growing fainter. He hugs me tightly, his face going to my neck. He breathes me in and lifts me, my feet leaving the floor. He trembles again before he sets me back on the ground. The wings have almost completely disappeared, the blue lights flashing, but growing dim. A moment later, they’re gone completely.
“You had your wings,” I tell him, almost laughing at the absurdity of the sentence.
His eyes flash. “Your thread is very bright. And very loud. I heard you screaming my name. I was angry.” This last comes out heatedly, as if he’s getting riled up again.
“At me?”
He shakes his head. “No. At myself. I should have been here sooner. I got distracted. You must forgive me.” He reaches out and grabs my hand, clutching it in his own. His eyes search mine, pleading.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I say, entwining my fingers in his.
He looks like he doesn’t believe me, but I don’t know what else to say. Today has been a very weird day. Getting shot at can do that to you, I guess. I’m ready to go home and it’s not even two in the afternoon.
I look back out to the store. The gunman is gone.
“Looks like we’re about to have some company,” Abe says from the window, his voice thin. “People must have heard the gunshot or seen the guy running. Rosie’s marching her way down with a shotgun. She looks determined.”
“She probably just wants to make sure I made you eat the sandwich,” Cal says. “She was really insistent about that.” He looks worried at the thought of Rosie with a shotgun. Hell, I’m worried about Rosie with a shotgun.
“Abe,” I start, unsure how to finish.
He waves his hand at me. “Boy, I’ve known you since you weren’t nothing but a twinkle in your father’s eye. I may not completely understand what I just saw, and I may not even believe it, but it’s not mine to tell. Though, if you can, I’d like to hear more about it later. I think you’ve got one hell of a story.”
I hang my head in relief mingled with sorrow. “Thank you,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say.
“And you,” Abe says, pointing at Cal. “I don’t care if you’re angel or demon. Just promise me you’ll protect him.”
Cal stiffens next to me, and for a wild moment, I think he’s going to refuse. I look up at him and his eyes are almost black again and something crosses them, a shadow darker than the black. But then it’s gone and he nods and says, “I promise.”
Abe watches him for a moment, as if gauging his sincerity. He frowns. “All right, then. Look alive, boys. The posse’s almost here. We’ve got some explaining to do.”
the last time, the first time
This is the last time I saw my father alive.
He said, “I’ve got to make a trip to Eugene in the morning. Going to meet up with some old friends. I’ll be back in the afternoon.”
The way he said it gave me pause. For one, he did not say who the friends were, and though I didn’t think to ask, it would strike me later as being very odd. It was as if he was attempting to hide something, something he wasn’t ready to say. That was unlike my father, for hadn’t he taught me there was to be truth in all things? That, even at the expense of someone’s feelings, it’s better to be honest than to tell a lie? Lies, he said, could come back to haunt you, no matter how small, or how good your intentions might be. We were never to lie to one another, given that he was raising me in truth. That might be why I didn’t think anything of it at the time.
He leaned against the doorway upon making this announcement, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He seemed tense, slightly nervous, which caught my attention almost right away. Yes, I would think about why he said the word “friends” instead of saying who later, and I’d kick myself for not thinking of asking, but it was his stance that I remember the most. His shoulders were slightly hunched, his face lined. He looked older than I’d ever seen him, and I wondered if he was getting sick. I wondered if he needed sleep. I wondered if he shouldn’t just stay home.
But I said none of this. My biggest regret is that instead I said, “Do you need