letting him continue, but that probably makes me a bit of a pervert, so I stop him, pulling the shirt back down.
“It’s okay for now,” I assure him, even though he’s trying to unbutton the jeans. I slap his hands away. “It can wait until you’re done shopping.”
His face turns red and he looks down at the ground and mumbles something.
“I can’t hear you,” I tell him.
He speaks up. “I don’t have currency,” he grumbles, glancing up at me before looking away. “I can’t buy things without it, right? That’s how it always is. You need money and I don’t have any.”
“You mean God doesn’t pay you?” I tease.
He looks horrified. “No! All I do is for him. He is the Creator; he is my father. His will is word and I must follow for he is divine—”
“Right, okay,” I cut him off before he goes into a sermon. “I’ve got money, no worries.”
He looks miserable again. “I haven’t a way to pay you back.”
I shrug. “We’re friends, right?”
He hesitates, but then he nods.
“And you’re going to be sticking around? At least for a while?”
He nods again, quicker this time. I ignore the relief I feel.
“Well, then, my friend, you’re going to need new clothes. And since you are my friend, there is no need to pay me back.”
He looks suspicious. “I don’t know,” he says.
“I’ll let you drive the truck into town today.”
His eyes light up. “You will? Wow. That truck sure is cherry. You’ll let me drive it and all I have to do is take your money that I can’t repay and go shopping, which I’ll probably end up hating because you don’t like it, to buy clothes like the ones I’m already wearing?”
Jesus Christ. “Uh. Sure.”
He grins. “Alright, hey, that’s great! Thanks, Benji. I sure do love that truck. It’s so cherry, right?”
I smile back. “So cherry.”
It’s four hours later and I’m regretting letting Cal out of my sight.
I sent him off with strict instructions ( You can’t go up to people you don’t know and spout off their names and birthdays and families and whatever else you want to say. Why not? People will just find it weird. But that’s how I remember everyone! I know, but if the whole idea is for you to remain incognito, then you can’t give yourself away on the first day. Let people introduce themselves to you should they want to. You act like I don’t know how to talk to people, Benji. Cal, you don’t know how to talk to people. Have a little faith, huh? Coming from an angel, that’s hilarious.) I found him an old wallet that I hadn’t used in years and gave him a wad of cash. I knew I was hovering when I asked him if he knew how to use money. “Oh, I don’t know, Benji; I’ve only watched humans for two centuries.” The bastard can be very sarcastic when he wants to be.
Which in and of itself is a paradox. Even after two days, I can see that there are so many sides to him. Maybe too many. There’s times he exudes such strength that it threatens to knock me flat. Push him into a corner and he will lash out. Make him angry and you will see it on his face, and God help you should it be directed toward you. Those are the times that I do believe he is an angel, that I do believe he guards us as he says he does.
Then there are his other sides, most specifically when he seems unsure, hesitant. While most of his insecurity has to do with things that I take for granted, it’s strangely amusing watching his attempts to adapt. His wonder is almost childlike in its mien. He sees things I no longer can because it is as if he’s experiencing everything for the first time. And what catches his eye seems to be inconsequential at first: marshmallows, a sunrise. The look on his face as the sun breaks over the horizon is one of pure wonder, and he closes his eyes as the sun’s rays first strike and warm his face. I try not to think about what his life must have been like On High. It sounds like it’s a cold, lonely place, even if he is working for God.
And then there’s the darker part of him. I will send you and yours into the black. I don’t want to think about that part. I don’t want