Into This River I Drown (25 page)

The gunman:
All I wanted was a fucking hit, man! Traynor told me I could get it, that fucking bastard!

“Traynor,” I whisper. Was it something as simple as that? Drugs? Was that a connection? A hit of what?

“Benji?” Cal asks me, looking worried.

“Do you know a man named Traynor?” I ask. “Do you recognize that name? Is he one of yours?” I hadn’t recognized his name or his voice, so he didn’t seem to be a townie.

Cal closes his eyes, and they move quickly behind his eyelids. “No,” he says after a moment. “I don’t know him. I don’t know that name. He’s not one of mine.”

“But you would have to know him if you saw him, right? If he’s in your jurisdiction?”

Cal shakes his head. “Only if something were to happen to him. Only if I could see his thread.”

I didn’t know where to find Traynor, much less cause something to happen to him so Cal could track him. “Why should I stay away from Griggs, Calliel? What are he and Walken doing? What is going on in this town?”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t know.”

I roll off him and he doesn’t try to stop me. I sit up on the side of the bed and put my feet to the floor, my back to Cal. “I think you do,” I say bitterly. “I think some part of you knows and you’re just not telling me. I think you know far more than you’re saying. I believe you when you say it’s tangled up in you, that you haven’t pulled it apart. But I don’t believe you
can’t
. I think you’re scared and you’re hiding behind it.”

Blue lights begin to flash in the dark.

“That’s not—”

“How did you come here? You said you were the first. You told me you fell because I called you. How did you do it, Calliel?”

“Oh, Benji,” he whispers. The blue lights are brighter.

I stand up and look down at him, scowling. “You said that angels are tested. That all of you are tested. Maybe this is your fucking test, Cal. Maybe you don’t remember because you’re being tested. Maybe that’s why you exist. Maybe that’s why God needs angels and that’s why you see the threads. Because it’s just some fucking
game
to him. His tests are nothing but
games
. You see patterns. You see designs. But you don’t see what’s right in front of you. You’re being played, Cal. God doesn’t give a damn about you. He doesn’t give a damn about me. It’s all a fucking game!”

Cal leaps up from the bed, the flashing lights following him and starting to form behind him. “
Nothing
about this is a game,” he snarls at me, a look of pure fury on his face. I’d be scared by it if I wasn’t so angry.
Just an hour ago we were fucking,
I muse darkly. “I am here because of
you
. I came here because of
you
. All I want to do is keep you safe! To keep you away from the river!” The accusation in his voice is loud and clear.
You did this to me. You brought me here. This is all your fault. You tore me away from the only home I’ve ever known and now you’re pushing me away.

It only succeeds in making me angrier. “Can you say the same thing about my father?” I shout at him. “Where were you when he was drowning? Where were you when he was dying? Did he call for you? Did you promise to protect him too? What about
him
?
Why did you let him die!
”

The blue lights explode and the room is suddenly awash in a flash that causes my eyes to burn. Afterimages dance along my vision as I blink, trying to make sense of the darkness falling again in the room. My eyes start to adjust and I see Cal leaning over the opposite side of the bed, curling his hands into the comforter, great blue wings extending from his back, curling against the ceiling, dragging along the floor. Again, they take my breath away. They are surreal. My mind argues with itself, telling me they can’t be real, this is nothing but a nightmare I can’t seem to escape, but I hear them dragging on the floor, and that rustling sound can’t be anything but real. It can’t be anything but here in this room.

Wake up
, my father whispers from a fading dream.
You gotta wake up, Benji. He’s come down from On High because you called him and you’ve got to wake up. He’s been waiting, yes, but
you
still brought him here, down to this place. You’ve got to help him. He’s going to act big, he’s going to talk big, but deep down, you two are the same. You must remember this. You are the same.

“You’re right,” the angel Calliel says, standing. His hands are fists at his sides. His voice is something I haven’t heard yet before. Angry. Deep. Cold. His wings shift around him, the deep blue catching the moonlight. “I should have done more. I should have
been
more. You have every right to be angry. I will try to remember what I did and what was done. You will know as soon as I do.”

The wings begin to fade, as does my anger. Now, I’m just unhappy. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” I say quietly. “It’s not fair to you. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, but he won’t look at me. The wings are growing dimmer. “No need to apologize. I am a protector, and I need to do my job. I’ve allowed myself to become distracted. I need to be working more on remembering. On trying to figure out how I came to be here and why. I need to know who allowed it. The reason they did.”

“But… I thought you came here for me,” I say, backtracking, wishing I hadn’t said a goddamn thing. My chest hurts. “Don’t you….”

The wings are gone now. He slides into his jeans and shirt. He moves toward the door. I reach out and grab his arm as he tries to move past me. He towers above me, fully clothed. I’m still naked. I tremble at the heat of him. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” he says gruffly, finally looking at me. He looks sad. He looks like he’s been betrayed. “Away. I need to think. I need to focus. I need to make this right. Some of us have lost our Father too.”

The sting of those words overwhelms me. “Will you be back to watch the sunrise?” I ask quietly.

He looks like he’s about to speak, but doesn’t. He pulls himself from my grasp and I’m still standing there when the front door to Little House opens and then shuts behind him.

I wait
on the roof as the sun rises. He doesn’t return.

I’m still there when I see Mary and Nina walk out the door of Big House and get into the car, going to open the store.

I’m still sitting there when Christie leaves a few moments later, going only God knows where.

I’m still sitting there when an old Honda rolls up the driveway. It rolls past Big House and a minute later brakes squeal as it pulls next to the Ford. I’ll have to remember to check the pads next time. Abe opens the door and gets out. He looks up at me. “Benji,” he says.

“Abe.”

“Where’s our friend?”

I shrug.

“Is he here?”

“No. He’s gone.”

Abe looks around. “He left?”

I nod.

“He coming back?”

“I don’t know.”
I hope. Oh, how I hope. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please come back.
I’ve been praying like this for hours. Nothing has happened.

“Boy,” Abe says, narrowing his eyes, “what did you do?”

“I told him that God didn’t give a shit about him,” I say honestly. “I told him he might as well have been the one that killed my father, since he didn’t protect him. I told him I didn’t need him here.” Those words hurt. I ignore the way my voice cracks.

“Did you mean it?”

I shake my head. “He’s my friend. I was mad. He was hurting and frustrated and I took that and made it my own. I lashed out. I drove him away. I drove him away and I don’t know if he’s going to come back.”

“You’re going to make me climb that ladder, aren’t you?” Abe asks, sounding resigned.

“Had to watch the sunrise,” I tell him, hoping he’ll understand even though I know he won’t. “It’s kind of a tradition now. Abe, what if he doesn’t come back?”

But Abe doesn’t answer, he’s already moving toward the side of the house, to the ladder. I try not to think as I wait, but I fail miserably.
You’ve only known him nine days,
I chide myself.
Nine days is
nothing
in the scheme of things. Nine days is
minuscule
compared to how long you’ve gone without him. Grow a pair.

I almost believe my own lies. Almost.

Abe finally huffs his way to the top and comes to sit beside me, his knees cracking as he lowers himself. He doesn’t speak for a time, and we watch the morning take shape around us. It’s okay, this silence. It’s easier to drown when it’s quiet.

But I should have known it wouldn’t last long. “Wings, huh?” Abe finally says.

“Yeah. Angel, even.”

“That’s…. something new.”

“That’s what I said.”

Silence. Then, “Did you mean it?”

“No,” I say roughly. “I didn’t mean a word of it. It’s not his fault. He’s right. I’m the one who called him here. Even if he wanted to come, I still called him.”

“That light everyone was talking about. Last week? The meteor. Out by seventy-seven where Big Eddie… oh my God, that was
him
?”

I manage a weak smile. “You should have been there. He made quite the entrance.”

The blood has drained from Abe’s face. “I just never thought… not here. Not in my lifetime.”

“He’s a guardian. Supposed to be our guardian angel. The whole town’s guardian angel. That’s what he says.”

“Guarding from what?”

“Everything, I think. I still don’t know quite how it works. He’s… different. I think he’s even different than any other guardian angel. I don’t know why I know that. But I do.”

“Big Eddie? Does Cal know….”

I shake my head. “He can’t remember. Something happened to him. Something that made him forget. He’s not supposed to be here. Something broke when he fell and he doesn’t know how to fix it. And I just made it worse.”

Abe’s quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “You know,” he says after a minute, “we both hurt, sometimes more than I think we’d care to admit. I lay awake all night last night, thinking I would know what I would ask when I drove over here. You know what I was going to ask him, Benji?” He looks out into the forest. “I was going to ask him about Estelle. If he was an angel like I thought he was, I was going to ask him about my wife. I was going to ask him why she had to leave when she did. Why she had to go before I did. Ten years, it’s been now. We weren’t young when she passed, but she was young enough that it shouldn’t have happened. I’m told an aneurysm is like that. It’s one of those things that shouldn’t happen, but it does anyway.”

I bow my head, fighting back against the tears that threaten.

“I was selfish, you know. A long time after she died. Years. I was angry at her for being the first one to die, leaving me behind all alone. I always figured I would go first. I was older. She was in better shape than I was. I smoked for thirty years. She never so much as had a sip of wine. She didn’t do
anything
to deserve….” He trails off, watching the rising sun.

Eventually, he sighs. “So I was furious that she went first. That she was at peace and I was left alone here. I was so mad at her and I stayed that way for a long time.

“I was going to come here and ask your angel if he knew of Estelle. It sounds ridiculous, right? I told myself that all night as I tossed and turned. But I got up this morning determined to ask him if he knew her. If he could see her, because, boy, there are times when I swear to God that I can feel her near me. I was going to ask if he was there when she left me. Do you remember what happened? You might be too young, but that’s okay. She was walking across Poplar Street. Just a normal, sunny day. She was going to get her hair done. That’s all. She was going to get her hair done and instead she died in the middle of the road, her face pressed against the asphalt. I was going to ask Cal to give her a message for me. Do you know what that message was, Benji?”

I’m unable to speak.

“I was going to have him tell her I’m sorry,” he says quietly, putting his arm on my shoulder. He doesn’t pull me toward him, just lets me feel the weight of him. “I was going to say I’m sorry for being so angry for so long. That I missed her and I’m sorry for acting like I didn’t. Grief is like that, Benji. It masks the anger until anger is all you know. Until you’re buried in it. You’re not the only one grieving here. I am too. I loved your dad. Loved him because he
was
mine too. Love him still, even after all this time. He’s not an easy person to forget. Your mother grieves. Your aunties grieve. And your angel sounds like he grieves as well. And maybe it’s worse for him, because maybe he
should
have done something. Maybe he
did
fail. But it sounds like he doesn’t know, and you can’t blame him for that. You can’t blame anyone until you know the truth. Big Eddie would have expected more from you, boy. I do too, for what it’s worth.”

A watery laugh escapes me. “He would have told me to stop acting like such an idiot,” I say, wiping my eyes.

Abe smiles. “And he would have loved you no matter what. This man. This… angel. Cal. Calliel. Is he… do you care for him?”

I know what he’s asking. I can’t lie to him. I won’t. “Yes.”

“And does he feel the same?”

Yes, Benji. God help me, yes. I don’t want anything more than you. I want nothing less than you.

“Yes,” I whisper. “More than I probably know. He’s… watched me. For a long time.”

Abe nods. “Things like these always have a way of working themselves out. You’ll see. It’ll be right as rain before you know it. You just have to have a little faith.”

He might be right. And before I can think otherwise, I’m spilling the details of the argument Cal and I had, details I didn’t think I’d share when Abe had arrived. But it’s out and when I finish, he squeezes my shoulder. Relaying it out loud makes me want to kick myself for how ridiculous I’d been. I never should have pushed him. I never should have let it come to this.

“He’s right, you know,” Abe says after a time.

I snort. “About which part?”