“What’d you say?” I ask him, trying to keep my voice even.
He walks toward me slowly, as if he’s stalking me. He might very well be doing just that. I want to look away, sure he can see right inside my head and know what I’m thinking, but I don’t. Even if he is becoming more like the rest of us, there is still something unfathomable about his eyes, something not quite human, a certain awareness, almost alien in its intensity. I know if he asks me to tell him everything I am thinking right at this moment, I’ll tell him. I’ll give him all my secrets and ask for nothing in return. I’ll do anything for him because I lo—
Oh.
Oh shit.
“You okay?” he asks me as he stands in front of me. I look up at him, and for a moment I allow myself to imagine his wings behind him, blue and beautiful, the feathers like silk, whispering as they rustle against each other. Blue lights shoot everywhere and the feathers (like the one in my desk at home that is mine) rise as he stretches his wings. The feathers (like the one in my father’s dead, floating hand, because that one is his) rise to block out the overhead lights. But that’s not real, because they aren’t there, they aren’t in front of me. I don’t know if he can even pull out his wings anymore. No further threads have called for him, and where once that might have made him restless, nervous that he hadn’t been called, now he seems almost at peace. There is still strength there, exuding from him, a reservoir I don’t think has even been tapped, but it’s not the same as when he first arrived.
For some reason, he’s happy.
“I’m good,” I manage to say. “You okay?”
He grins. “I’m awesome.”
I should have never taught him that word.
The bell rings overhead.
“Oh, thank God you’re here, Rosie,” Abe drawls. “Gives me someone to talk to so these two can continue to gaze into each other’s eyes.”
Cal and I both flush at the same time, but it doesn’t stop him from leaning down and kissing me sweetly on the lips. I sigh to myself and wonder if it matters anymore, all the things I tend to think are important. Maybe all that matters is right here in front of me. Maybe that’s the thing I should be focused on. All the rest will still be here weeks from now, but Cal might not.
He pulls away and watches me for a moment. Then, much to my dismay, he says with a knowing smile: “You’re looking at me differently.”
Shit.
“I….” Have no idea what to say.
He shakes his head and kisses me again before stepping away.
Rosie is grinning at him like he’s the greatest thing she’s ever seen (to be fair, Rosie’s lived in Roseland all her life, so he just might be). “I am so very glad you decided to come to town,” she tells him without so much as a look at me. I don’t know if she’s saying this on my behalf or for her own nefarious purpose. I almost tell her to back off my angelic boyfriend but I think the reference would be lost on her, so I resign myself to the fact that I’ll be stuck in Cal’s shadow for the rest of the time I know him. This splits my train of thought two ways, the first of which is thinking there’s no place I’d rather be than in his shadow; the second is wondering just how long I will know him.
You can’t take him from me. You just can’t. He’s here for me, not for you. If you really are his Father, then you should love him enough to let him go.
Much like I love my father too much to let him go.
Dammit.
“Heard about that storm?” Rosie asks. “Or should I say storms?”
I nod. “Radio.”
“Sounds like a doozy! Haven’t had one of them probably since….” Her voice trails off as she realizes her faux pas.
But it’s not like I can blame her. It’s been almost five years. People are still sad, yes, and everyone knows the hole that Big Eddie left in our lives, but I seem to be the only one still fixated on it, the only one still drowning. I almost allow myself to feel anger about their perceived callousness, how quickly they were able to toss him aside like he was nothing, but that’s not