here. You don’t know what else to do. You don’t know if you are strong enough. I assure you that you are.”
She begins to weep openly, raising her hands to grip his arms. There’s a faint buzzing in my ears, like everything around me is vibrating, humming with an electrical current. I see tiny blue flashes, but they are too small to be important.
“You are strong,” Cal says, brushing his thumbs under her eyes. “Stronger than you could ever know. And you are not alone, not like you think. Benji is with you. Your sisters are with you. I am with you. And God, my Father? He is always with you.” As he says this last, I hear the first waver in his voice. His breath catches on his words like he is having trouble speaking.
Like he doesn’t believe himself.
But my mother notices none of this.
“Who are you?” she asks quietly through her tears.
“I am Calliel,” he tells her with a small smile. “I am the guardian angel to Roseland and its people. And I am with you.”
“This… isn’t…,” she tries again, fighting against what she sees in front of her.
He shakes his head. “It is, Lola Green. It is what it is. I promise you.”
And then her eyes shift, and something else rises behind her sorrow, her disbelief. “Guardian?” she asks, her voice low. My heart sinks—I know where she’s going with this.
“Mom—” I say, starting forward.
“Where were you when my husband died?” she grinds out. “Where were you when Big Eddie sat trapped upside down in his truck? Where were you when the water filled his lungs? You say you are an angel. Where were you then?”
“I don’t know,” he whispers, dropping his hands and taking a step back. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. I wish….”
“It’s not his fault,” I say, though I don’t know how much I believe that. “He can’t remember much since I called him here. Certain pieces have been taken from him.”
“Get them back!” she growls. “You get them back and you tell me why you let him die!”
He looks confused, almost scared. “I didn’t… I didn’t know how to….”
“That’s enough,” I tell her. “This isn’t going to solve anything. Mom, you have to believe me when I say I’ve asked the same questions. I’ve wanted the same answers, but it can’t be forced. It just can’t.”
She turns on me. “How could you keep this from me? How could you even think that was okay? Benji, you could have been killed tonight!”
“I didn’t say anything because of this right here,” I retort. “I didn’t say anything because I was scared you’d have this reaction. Mom, he’s….” He’s what? What is he to me? I don’t know how to finish that sentence. I don’t know if I want to. My head is starting to hurt and I’m exhausted. I’m losing the ability to process any of this.
But he’s here, I tell myself. If I’m being honest, that’s the only thing I care about. He’s here. I’m angry, yes, and I’m freaking the fuck out, but he’s here. He came back. He came back.
“I care about him,” I finally say, knowing it sounds weak. “He’s my friend. I don’t… he’s my friend, okay? And he saved me tonight. I just….”
Mom doesn’t look convinced, though I don’t know why I think she should be. But she also looks worn, and heartbroken, much older than when I saw her earlier today. And maybe the real reason why I haven’t said anything to her yet is not because of this reaction, or because of what our future might hold. Maybe the real reason is because I don’t want old wounds to be ripped open for her, like they have been for me. I don’t want her scars to be split wide-open. Yes, he is my friend (let’s not go any further than that right now, I tell myself), but he is also a reminder of what we’ve lost. And it’s worse to know there are questions he can’t answer right now. Whether he’s being truthful about the convenient memory loss or not. Thinking of him as a liar feels wrong.
“Mom, just… just give us time,” I beg.
“Time?” she says incredulously. “Time? Time for what?”
“To figure out what’s going on here. There’s so much we don’t know, so much that I’m still trying to figure out.”
She shakes her head. “Benji, you have to see how ridiculous this is, right? Do you hear yourself? Do you hear him?”