My Everyday Angel: Short Story

   Hello. So, I wrote a little story.

  It's quite long, a little over 8,000

    words. Be warned: it has a bit of

  language, but that's basically it.

Enjoy!

   

The phone hadn’t been used to call anyone in over ten years. It rarely even got taken off the hook. Sometimes kids would play with it, this ancient relic that seemed of a long, long time ago. Sometimes adults would take silly pictures with it, post it to facebook with a caption like ‘Remember these?’ Very rarely, someone’s phone would die, and they’d be forced to enter the last resort, digging around in their pockets for a coin, dropping it into a slot, and attempting to remember a phone number.

Harry had been working at the train station long enough to remember a time when people waited in line to tell loved ones they’d gotten in early, or to call a taxi, or to get a refresher on the address of the hotel they were staying at. He’d watched the entire switch from the payphone on a wire to cell phones in the palm of a hand. It’d been a journey to be a part of, and he swore that every step would be the last. The payphone could never become truly obsolete, that’s impossible. Back when coins fell through the slot by the minute, Harry had initiated a bulletin board where he posted phone numbers of taxi companies, hotels, and car rental services. Soon enough, people started to offer him money to have their businesses put up on the board. He’d refused the money, there was no need, but hung their flyers and business cards nonetheless. As the phone got less and less use, fewer and fewer companies wanted to advertise there. Harry’d never took it down, so the bulletin board was like a time capsule into the capitalistic world of Union Station in 2007.

Harry was sure he would’ve noticed the man using the telephone even if it wasn’t for the angel wings. He approached the phone with such purpose, as if he had no other reason to live, sunk the coin into the slot -it was already in his hand- and ripped a paper from the board. The man then started to punch in the numbers rather aggressively. There was something about him that seemed off to Harry. He wasn’t in a rush, as most people here were. He had a sort of unearthliness about him, like he was above everyone else, but not like he believed it. That, and he also had large, feathery angel wings on, connected to him by two satin shoulder straps, the kind you might see as part of a halloween costume.

For all of his seventy years, Harry had prided himself on not judging anyone because you never know what they might be going through. However, this time only, Harry wondered what could possibly be going on in this man’s life to lead him to this. And he had a very serious curiosity on who he could possibly be calling.

El marched straight up to the phone. He’d noticed everyone around him seemed to have a very defined sense of purpose, and he wanted to try his best to fit in. He was glad there wasn’t a line for the phone, as he’d heard they could get pretty tedious. He was also glad that he’d been able to find a quarter on the ground to pay for his call. In fact, there was a surprising amount. El wondered if people left them on purpose for lost souls like him who needed it. Though his instinct told him that people weren’t that good, El smiled just at the thought.

He hadn’t been expecting to get as many weird looks as he had. For a moment, he was scared people could see his wings, but then he remembered that that was impossible, because they were not angelic beings. Humans would feel a slight tickle if they were to walk through them, but they couldn’t see anything. Remembering that let El breathe a sigh of relief.

A large advertisement for the Washington D.C. Evangelists was one of the most recent posters hung up, but it was still curling and yellow at the corners. El ripped it right off. The thumb tack fell to the floor. He scanned briefly for the number, then punched it into the keypad, very careful to get each one right. He hoped someone was still on the other side to pick up. After all, the flyer also advertised a meeting for April 22, 2007.

The phone rang a couple times, but someone eventually picked up, and answered with a somewhat surprised tone, maybe they’re not used to being the ones getting calls, “Hello. Thank you for calling D.C. Evangelists. What can we do for you?”

“Uh, yeah,” El stuttered, “I have a question.”

The line stayed quiet waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, they provoked it, “And what is that?”

“Oh, yes, um, I was wondering why an angel might be on Earth?”

“Angels are all around, protecting us, guiding us in the way of the light. They also may be sent down to right a wrong in the world.”

“Okay.” El said, gaining momentum, “Okay, that’s great. Thank you.”
He hung up before the line could say anything. He looked around, satisfied with his newfound mission. All he had to do was do good in the world and lead some people to the right paths. How hard could that be?

El looked around at the people rushing by. He noticed a piece of trash on the ground and picked it up and dropped it into the trash can. Satisfied, he looked around, and couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the lack of change that he, in hindsight, shouldn’t’ve been expecting. Reminding himself that he had to do something, he made his way to the exit. He found being in a train station a completely unique experience. You could be anywhere in the world but they vary so little. The first impression that some people get looks just like where they came from. Maybe it made them more comfortable in an unfamiliar environment. That made El happy. Nonetheless, he was excited to see the rest of the world.

It was lighter outside than he was expecting. The sun seemed to refract off everything around him right into his face. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. When he did, he wasn’t sure that was any better than being blind. People and cars rushed past and he wasn’t sure where he could walk without getting flattened. El decided the coast was clear after checking back and forth what he thought was an appropriate amount of times, and he took a step forward. He felt something grab his wrist and yank him backwards, just as a car sped past him. It skidded to a halt a few seconds later and the driver tumbled out and took a look around. He had a phone in his hand.

El looked around, then down at his wrist, which was still being held hostage by a very tight grip. He looked up at the owner of that grip. She was strange. She had messy hair and messy makeup. She wore a t-shirt with a large logo on the front and, though it was slightly cold outside, no jacket. She looked back up at him and, once they made eye contact, she realized she was still holding him, and promptly let go.

Ada knew she had two ways to play this. She didn’t really have time to debate each way, and when in doubt her hostile side usually took the wheel. “Jesus Christ, look where you’re going!”

“What?” El asked.

“You almost just became roadkill!”

“No. Why did you call me Jesus Christ? You don’t know my name.”

Ada looked at him quizzically, then a giggle escaped her lips.

El remained stone faced looking at her. When Ada had finished laughing, she collected herself for a brief moment and said, “are you going to be okay if I leave? No more stepping into traffic?”

El smiled, because she was smiling, and shrugged.

“Are you hungry? I was just about to get lunch and if I’m gonna have to babysit you-”

El nodded. He was grateful for what he hoped could be a companion that would help him achieve his goal. Maybe he was her guardian angel, he thought, before immediately pushing the thought aside because she’d done a much better job of saving him so far than vice versa.

It was a little past three, not rush hour for Freddy’s Burgers, but a few people came in and out, grabbed a greasy bag, and either sat at a table by themselves, or left. They all took notice of the man with angel wings and the messy girl who sat across from him. They were there the longest. They started by eating in silence. El ate meticulously: one bite of burger, one fry, one sip of the drink that made his mouth feel weird, and repeat. Ada ate like she was taking life as it hit her. Burger for as long as she wanted burger, a few fries, drink whenever she was thirsty. She was endlessly entertained by the angel sitting across from her, but a bit scared to ask questions.

“So,” Ada asked, trying to keep it casual, “I just realized I don’t know your name.” She wiped her hand with a napkin and held it out to shake over the table. Perhaps a bit of an over formal introduction for their relationship. “I’m Ada.”

“El.” El said simply, grabbing her hand but letting her do the up and down motion.

“So, not Jesus Christ.” Ada quipped under her breath. El smiled. “Where are you from? Because I’m guessing not around here.”

“Heaven.” El said simply, “And I need to get back by doing good.”

Ada quite nearly choked on her burger. “That explains the-” She motioned at the wings.

El’s face flushed and he looked horrified, “You can see them?”

Ada furrowed her brows. She began to say yes but changed her course when she noticed how much it seemed to be upsetting him. “So, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“I didn’t fall.”
“No, I mean-  It was a joke. I’m sorry.” Ada wiped her mouth with a napkin. Not so much because there was something there but because she needed something to do. “How are you going to save the world?”

El shrugged. “There are problems everywhere. I’m sure I’ll find one.”

Ada laughed and gestured at herself. She was still attempting to joke with this one, despite the failures in the past.

“Do you need help?” El asked, hopeful.

Ada was quick to shake her head. “I’m fine,” she assured, “The world needs plenty of saving without me.”

El accepted this answer. With all the talking it became apparent to him how much he wasn’t doing. He felt like he was on a time limit and he was wasting it. He wondered if he was. No one had told him the limits and restrictions to this ‘challenge’ could it be called. He’d kind of just awoken and known he had a purpose. Why else would he be here?

He stood up. Ada was surprised by this, and sat up, but did not join him in standing.

“Thank you.” El said definitively.

Ada still had some food in her mouth, “You going to be okay?”

El didn’t answer with words so much as with a glance over her head and around the quiet scene of people attempting not to stare at the angel man as they ate their afternoon burgers, and a look directly into Ada’s eyes that felt like he was cutting through her outer layer and seeing something beneath. She felt uncomfortable, and looked down. When she looked back up, El was headed towards the door.

Ada knew that the patrons of Freddy’s were interested in what would happen next on the Angel Man Saga, so she kept her head down, unwilling to appear as though eye contact was an invitation for questions. She didn’t want to leave quite yet. She’d had to get home to work on stuff, but now it was too late and there was no point, because she knew she’d just lounge around wondering.

El walked down the street, now with a more distinct sense of purpose but still as lost as ever. He noticed a girl, maybe fourteen, standing on a street corner. She scrolled through her phone but every once in awhile she would look around, like she was waiting for someone. She caught a glimpse of El and couldn’t help but stare. El smiled, like one does when a baby is staring at you, and the girl went back to her phone. Not knowing what else to do, El continued on his merry way.

He noticed someone with a table passionately trying to shove papers in faces. He approached them, and promptly had a flyer in his hand before he knew what was happening.

“Sir, sign this petition. We need to save the polar bears.” The middle aged woman demanded.

El was a bit taken aback. She had such a harsh tone to her voice it hurt his ears to listen. “Why?” He asked. Innocent enough a question, he believed. Based on her offended response, it was not.

“Why?” She scoffed, “So you don’t care about the poor innocent animals that are having their homes taken from them?” She jabbed at a picture on her computer screen of a bear standing on a piece of ice barely bigger than itself. The picture made El feel bad, and he thought that saving the polar bears was a good start to saving the world. He was still confused, however, about what this woman was trying to achieve by yelling at him.

“But what will this paper do?”

The lady looked at him like he was an idiot. “It will tell Congress to get off their entitled asses and devote some resources to keeping the arctic there!” Her voice and temper grew with each passing second.

“They’re going to go save that bear on the ice?” El pointed at the computer screen.

The lady, again, was confused by the idiocracy standing in front of her. “No, but they will regulate businesses more so climate change doesn’t continue to threaten them.”

“Why don’t you go save the bears?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, wouldn’t that do more than being mean to people on the street?”
The lady put her clipboard down on the table behind her and placed her newly freed hands on your hips. “Go.”

“What?” El asked. He’d thought he was motivating her.

“I want you to leave. You are clearly mocking me and I’m trying to do some good in this world, which doesn’t need people like you trying to counter everyone’s efforts.”

El was offended. All he’d wanted to do was good. He continued down the street.

It was darkening outside and people were looking at Ada weird. She couldn’t stay much longer, but the sun was going down meant it would be colder outside and she was so warm. She thought she’d buy something else to warrant staying a bit longer, but she wasn’t hungry and didn’t have enough money anyway. With a sigh and a grunt, she pushed herself up and walked towards the door. She could feel eyes following her, but didn’t care as much as she might’ve, say, yesterday. Ada was not a religious person, but she couldn’t ignore the “angel” that seemed to be sent into her life. She wondered what it meant, or if she should’ve gotten that man some help: he clearly needed it. But for some reason, she could kind of believe him. Maybe it was the purity in his eye or how genuinely amazed he seemed by everything.

She wandered to the bus stop, but didn’t bother taking a seat on the bench. There was a couple standing a few feet away and they seemed to need their space. Ada was all for romance and relationships, do what you want, but it seemed whenever they were in public they were either always violently making out or on the verge of killing each other. This couple was clearly the latter. She silently wished she might one day have the confidence to be so overly obnoxious in public. Like, these people were screaming. But Ada attempted to mind her own business as much as possible. She tried not to listen to them hurl insults at each other because, hey, that’s not my problem. She considered listening to music on full blast, but her earbuds were a tangled mess in her pocket and she didn’t want to get into that right now.

Maybe it didn’t happen incredibly fast. Maybe it just felt like it because she’d tuned in a little late. But rarely do these things ever span out longer than a minute. A loud noise. Ada couldn’t describe it if you asked her, but it made her look across the street because she was certain an accident had happened. A scream. She looked down the street in search of wreckage. Her first thought was terrorist attack. That’d been one of her biggest fears in moving to the city. A shout, “Hey!” And Ada knew exactly what it was. She didn’t want to look, but her head moved on it’s own free will.

El didn’t have time to think logically over his available options before acting, something he had thought he’d be rather good at. People always acted on emotion, but that seemed irrational. However, in an instant, his feet were flying and his fists were balled, even though his head had no idea what he was going to do.

He tried to rationalize it later. Punching someone in the face wasn’t exactly cover child behavior for Saving the World. He was protecting someone. That man had spewed nasty words in the woman’s face and, though he’d never seen it before, he recognized the look in his eyes, and knew she was in danger. El didn’t want to assume that he thought women were weak and couldn’t look after themselves; like he said, he didn’t know what came over him.

For a first punch, El’s swing at the jaw wasn’t so bad. Sure, he had the element of surprise on his hand, but he definitely surprised the guy enough to make him stumble backwards. El spun on his heels and turned to the girl, who seemed to be on the edge of saying, “what the fuck?!” but couldn’t find the words.

“Are you okay?” El said in a calm, gentle voice.

The girl, so overwhelmed by basically everything she hadn’t even had a chance to process the angel wings, stuttered out a nonsense response. El patiently waited for her reassurance but, before it could be granted, a strong hand gripped the back of his head and slammed it into the thick plastic-glass of the bus stop’s “walls.” The girl screamed. The guy yelled, “hey!” to shut her up; he didn’t need anyone to make a scene.

And, in a moment, the angel man was whisked aside. Ada responded badly to high pressure situations. Always had. So, when she pulled El out of that situation and looked into his eyes, trying to decipher a weird mix of fear, pride, anger, confusion, and more, all she could think to say was, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

The man shouted. Ada swerved her head to tell him to fuck off. She’s not sure if she did. Another symptom of high stress was not being able to recall certain moments. It happened once, weirdly enough, in a movie theater. She’d been told over and over to watch this movie and it was the greatest thing and she arrived ready to take in every detail to discuss later but, when she walked out, couldn’t remember a single detail about it. Her friends accused her of not having watched it.

She and El were walking down the street in a manner similar to an owner dragging their dog along when all it wanted to do was look back.

“What were you thinking?” Ada asked, more to herself than El. She sounded like a scolding parent. El didn’t answer.

Once they were a certain distance away, Ada stopped the two of them. She turned to examine El. He had blood dripping down his forehead and matted in his hair. Her hand reached up for it but El jerked away.

“You can’t just-” Ada began, before realizing it was futile. She couldn’t abandon him this time. Although, she reminder herself, that’s not what she did the first time. She had a long streak of blaming herself and was working on getting better at that.

Ada walked to the next bus stop. She was walking away from home and would have to take another stop but she was not going back where she came from.

It was past quitting time but not yet ‘getting home from dinner’ time, so the bus was quite empty. That’s not to say there wasn’t more than enough people to stare, but there wasn’t so many that El’s wings would be in the way and she might have to suggest taking them off. She wondered what that would do.

Though uneager to take her eyes off him, she had to send a quick text to her roommate. It’d be rude to walk in there with this man without any kind of warning.

Bringing a guy home. It’s not like that. He needs serious help. We have bandages, right?

Hazel, Ada’s roommate who was too chill for existence and got off early on Tuesdays and was probably already in sweatpants watching one of those medical dramas on demand, responded within minutes:

You’re constantly surprising me

Can’t wait to meet him ;)

First aid kit is stocked and ready.

Unlike Ada, who preferred getting everything out in one text, Hazel didn’t mind taking as many blue bubbles as possible to say one thing.

Not wanting to answer any questions from El, Ada made sure she marched up the stairs in a way that made it obscenely clear that she wasn’t in the mood.

Hazel was waiting on the couch with a bowl of granola when they arrived.

“Hello,” She said sweetly. Ada wanted to be annoyed at her right now but she was just too friendly.

Ada plopped El in a seat in what no one else would call a kitchen but it was all they had, and began to tend to the wound. He had a large bruise on his forehead that contained all the colors you wouldn’t usually picture a bruise having. She wouldn’t admit that she was just doing what she’d seen on TV shows.

“You can’t do things like that,” Ada tried to get across, “it’s not safe.”

“But I need to do good.” El sounded a bit like a baby in this instance. His eyes began to water and Ada had to look away because he was just too damn adorable.

“And you can. But you can’t put yourself at risk. That’s not solving anything.” She knew she could never quite get the point across, but she was going to keep entering at different points to see how close she could get.

Ada suddenly remembered that because of the progress she’d lost that day, she would probably have to pull an all-nighter, or at least get close. “Hey,” She turned her head to Hazel, “what kind of snacks or energy drinks do we have?”

“None.” Hazel said, not missing a beat. “It was your job to get them this week.”

“Crap.” Ada muttered, “You couldn’t have just picked some up because you clearly remembered?”

“Your mess is not my responsibility. Goodnight.” And with that, Hazel sauntered off, calm as could be. Sometimes Ada just wanted to wring her neck.

“What is going on?” El asked.

“What?” Ada responded, “Oh, yeah I just forgot to pick some stuff up, it’s fine.”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course, what are you talking about?” Ada laughed, but she was terrified of what he’d do.

“Do you need help cleaning up your mess?”

Ada laughed, “Oh, no. She just means- It’s fine. Get some sleep. You can take the couch.”

El didn’t respond.

“Big day of saving the world tomorrow, right?” Ada really just wanted to get rid of him.

El nodded slightly, and sat on the bed. The wings made it tremendously hard to get into a comfortable position.

“You can, um,” Ada interjected, “You can take them off to sleep.”

El stared at her until she left the room. When she was gone, he tugged at the straps a little. It would be a little easier to get a good night’s sleep without them. But he couldn’t just abandon what he was. It would be like throwing his mission in the trash. He resolved to sleep on his stomach, his wings splayed proudly over the edges of the tiny couch.

Four hours in without a lick of sleep, El angrily took them off and threw them to the side. He noticed light spilling from underneath a door.

He cautiously got up; he didn’t want to make any noise. He tiptoed his way to the light and gently opened the door. The door creaked open very, very slowly, so by the time the space was wide enough for El to peek his head in, Ada was already sitting back in her chair waiting to hear what he might need.

“Hi,” She said, audibly annoyed.

“You should sleep.” El answered.

“Will do.” Ada had already returned to typing away at her computer and occasionally checking and shuffling through papers.

“Okay.” El left. He knew she wasn’t going to follow his advice, but he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t going to be mean about it. He just hoped that after the door closed behind him she would wonder, ‘maybe he’s right.’ and click the little light off and hop into bed for an immediate, deep, and satisfying sleep, with more than a few interesting dreams she could share over breakfast. El wondered what was for breakfast.

Breakfast, it turned out, was a total letdown. Hazel, who was very nice to El when she got up, simply grabbed some cash when she walked out the door.

“Tell Ada I left early to get coffee.” She said, facing the hallway but talking behind her. El nodded, even though he wasn’t seen.

El continued to wait, patiently sitting in his chair dreaming about all the things he could do today, when Ada zombied out of her room, barely alive, with bags like raccoons under her eyes. She made eye contact with El and urgently tried to readopt a persona, before deciding it wasn’t worth it. She opened the fridge, looked around, then closed it and looked around, like she was looking for a purpose in life.

“Good morning.” El said.

Ada grunted in response.

“What are you doing?”

“Work.”

“What do you want to be doing?”

“What?” Ada asked.

“If you could do anything?”

Ada shrugged. “Skydiving,” she responded sarcastically.

“Professionally?”

Ada shook her head, getting a little invested in this conversation, although trying not to because she had stuff to do. What she needed to be focused on was getting this man out of her house. These thoughts did not occur to her at the time. “No, just for fun. I feel like if I could do anything professionally- uh, I don’t know. That’s a good question. What about you?”

El answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the planet, “Save the world.”
“Right.” Ada nodded, “I’d be a storyteller. I think I could be pretty good at that.”
El nodded, intrigued, “Like what?”

“I don’t know like a writer or a poet or a painter. Although, I could never actually do any of those things.”

“Why not?”

“Well-” Not wanting to make eye contact while explaining the deaths of dreams to one so innocent, Ada’s eyes floated upwards, and landed on the clock. There was less than ten minutes until her submission deadline. “Oh, I gotta go back to work. If you leave, take a key, but bring it back.” What was she saying? Was she seriously giving this stranger a key to her house? “And be safe.”

El was more than a little confused. Where could he go? But he’d figured out one thing: exactly what he was going to do today. He wandered the shelves and pulled things that looked interesting, as well as shuffled through the drawers and picked out the funnest looking pens.

He found a glittery purple one and etched his name into as many things as he could find because it was just so pretty. He found a book of with very few words printed on each page, but every single inch of paper was occupied by writing. Things were highlighted and underlined, arrows drawn and notes scribbled in the margins. It amazed El how much work went into this thing. He wanted to read every single bit.

He didn’t end up doing that. What El ended up doing was getting the key from the hook near the door and wandering out of the apartment with only a key, a few dollars he found on the counter, and the book.

It really was a little miracle that he found the bookstore around the corner. Most people that pass by don’t even register anything as being there, and there are people that can live above it their whole lives but still fumble when asked about it. El felt a significant pull towards the bookstore, like it was calling him, and he couldn’t ignore a sign like that.

It was empty, for the most part. Occupied only by strangely dressed people with mustaches or messy buns. A middle aged woman shoved books onto the already bursting shelves, and stacks of boxes, haphazardly labeled with titles like ‘Old but not classic’ or ‘new-ish’ occupied the corners. El noticed a large poster adorning a wall that looked like it’d been there for a really long time. It advertised that this place, Mickey’s Stories, was hosting an ongoing book drive, and donations were always accepted and appreciated. The woman shelving books turned to face El, who was standing at the end of her aisle. He noticed that she had an apron on, and in the corner it said, in a faded logo Mickey’s Stories. El decided that she would be a good person to ask.

Marta wasn’t the most hospitable of people. She’d never needed to be. She’d bought this bookstore because the people that came here didn’t want to be helped; they wanted to explore on their own. She turned down the aisle to continue her work. A church had organized a book drive and kindly gave her a numerous amount of their earnings. Even though she was already overloaded. No one ever bought books from this place.

There was a man standing in her way. Though he was fairly tall, he reminded her more of a child than any grown adult she’d seen. He had an awkward way of standing that she couldn’t quite place and giant angel wings spreading from his back. That still wasn’t the weirdest fashion statement she’d seen in here, so Marta tried not to judge.

“How can I help you?” She said, in a faux polite voice that did not sound like her own.

The Angel Man reacted like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. “I, uh- I have a book.”

“Donations go in the box.” Marta pointed at a box near the door with three or four books inside.

“No, um. I can’t donate this, I mean-” He took a breath. Marta tried to look less intimidating. “If someone wanted to tell a story, where could they go?”

Marta wrinkled her forehead, “You want to tell me a story?”
“Uh, no. Not me. If I have a friend. And they’re a storyteller, would you sell their story here?”

“Sure. Put it between two covers and give it here.” Assuming this was it, Marta slid past him to continue her work. She doubted she’d ever see this strange man again.

“Okay.” The Angel Man said. He seemed very satisfied, and Marta was proud of the job she’d done even though it really hadn’t been any work at all.

El really hoped that Ada was still home. He clutched the book close to his chest and felt that the key was still in his pocket. It was. El spotted a piece of trash on the ground and swiftly picked it up and tossed it in the nearest garbage can. He handed a dollar bill to a man on the street and apologized that he couldn’t give more. The man didn’t make eye contact, but he didn’t scowl like he did at every other passerby. El reminded himself that saving the world wasn’t about getting thanks.

El was really glad that he didn’t have to take the bus anywhere, or he never would’ve been able to find his way back home.

He remembered the walk behind the building and the climb up the stairs. He had a hard time fitting the key into the hole. Fumbling and taking it in and out over and over until finally he felt a click. El squeezed through the door, opening it as little as possible. Ada, who was watching, entertained, from the kitchen table couldn’t understand why he would do that. He seemed like the kind of person who would burst through every door he opened singing about the joys of life.

El turned around and jumped a little at the sight of Ada sitting there. She smiled that smile that showed no teeth and only involved the mouth and gave him a little wave. El didn’t know what to do so he smiled sheepishly. He tucked the book behind his back. He had an odd suspicion he wasn’t supposed to have it. An odd talent El prided himself on was being able to sense energies. He felt like he could tell what someone was thinking or feeling before they’d even have a chance to think it. It usually wasn’t much help, because the default for most people felt like a slight humidity, and he didn’t like that very much.

Ada had a talent for sensing bullshit and it wasn’t like she couldn’t see El very clearly jerking his hand, with something in it, behind his back.

“What’s that?” She asked, with a friendly, curious air about her.

“Nothing.” El responded a bit too quickly. He wasn’t good at acting not-guilty. It was never a skill he thought he’d have to learn.

Ada shrugged because she knew that in a couple seconds he would get distracted and place whatever he was holding on the table.

El was very relieved she didn’t ask more because he wouldn’t have been able to keep up his act. Building a sturdy wall is hard work.

“Where’d you go?” Ada asked, as El rehearsed over and over in his mind what he was going to say. Ideas like marbles skidded around, bumping and bouncing until one made it out.

“Do you have a story? Like, to tell me. Because you said you wanted to?” El said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Ada evaluated her options. Her option number one, which she wouldn’t resorted to in an instant had she not stopped to think, was to say, “I’m busy go away.” Her second option was to see what she could remember from any Dr. Suess book, but she wouldn’t be able to do the rhymes, which was the most important part. She could’ve said what had happened when she tried to submit her work: the computer had frozen and she’d nearly had a heart attack. Ada didn’t know what made her do what she did. What’s the worst that could happen? It wasn’t like he was going to be mean about it.

“Actually,” She said, standing up from the table and getting her phone. She clicked it on and, though she could get the video up in a number of seconds, she pretended to scroll around to extend the time, “I wrote a song. It’s not good but like, it’s fun.” She handed him the phone and started to leave the room, but she needed to see his face. It bobbed along slightly to the subtle beat. It was mostly lyrics anyway. And the lyrics were dumb.

El was amazed he’d actually been able to get something out of her, let alone something so good. He watched her on the little screen and she closed her eyes and a melody like syrup fell from her lips. He tried to pay attention to every little detail all at once. The lyrics told a story, but so did the little strumming, and the tapping. And every once in awhile it would get louder, only to fall back down again. El looked up and saw Ada, face red, but lips silently moving along to the words. He couldn’t help but smile

Once the song ended, Ada was glad to have shared something she never had, but way more glad that it was over. She quickly made up some excuse to leave the room, “I have work to do.” And left her phone on the table. El, sitting patiently until she left the room, was devising what he would do next. He hadn’t remembered to check the hours of the little store he’d gone to, although he was sure it was fine. He would just pop in and bestow them a little gift.

Sometimes, when one has a doubt, even if it is completely unfounded with no basis to lie on, it finds a way to nestle in one’s brain like a pest and grow into a spark. That spark turns into a flame that threatens to burn down all that one thought they knew. El was planning to wait a little longer until the coast was clear. A little longer so him just showing up and leaving wasn’t suspicious, but he wondered? Is it still open? It was a small business, maybe it can only afford to be open a few hours a day. Maybe, right after he’d left, Marta had gone to check the bank statements, only to realize that they were out of money, and would have to shut down immediately. Maybe they’d been robbed by an armed gunman, and the lifeless bodies of Marta and her customers were yet to be found. El snatched the phone of the table and flew through the door without saying goodbye.

He careened down the stairs in a way that, if he wasn’t worried about other things, would’ve made him terrified of falling. He basically flew out the door and down the street. Oh, no, he thought, as he entered the bright outdoors and people flew past him, all knowing where they were going. He rolled the dice and took a right. He reached the corner and looked, but it wasn’t there. He walked down another block. No luck. El was contemplating turning back and going the other way when he felt a sense of calm fill his gut, as if someone had put his anxiety on some serious drugs. He turned his head, and there was the little bookstore, in all its glory, a chalk sign proclaiming OPEN in fancy script.

There must not have been many customers while El was gone, or at least not many as notable as the one with angel wings because when he entered he was greeted by someone chanting, “He’s back!”

El, with a self-satisfied grin, approached Marta.

“Did you find a story from your friend?” She asked. She was only ever as nice as she needed to be with people, but something about this man made her happy, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

El nodded. Then, when Marta gave him an expecting look, he said, “It’s a song.”
Marta was both disappointed and overjoyed. She remembered part of her reasoning for buying this place was that it used to have live music every friday, from obscure bands that couldn’t get into anywhere else. She’d tried to keep this tradition going after the old owner had left, but it’d been too much work to pull together. She still had a pretty good sound system in the back, if anyone bothered to bring an instrument.

She considered telling all this to the man, but giving him information was basically the same as making a promise, she’d decided. Then again, she was thinking about closing shop early that night because no one had bought anything that day, and she could really use the curb appeal. This was all, of course, an afterthought, because what she’d said right away was, “Awesome! Be here by 6 and you can play for whoever shows up.”
El didn’t bother correcting her that he wasn’t the one playing, but he was too happy. He might’ve mumbled a ‘great’ or given a thumbs up before he exited the shop; he was focused on other things.

El wasn’t the best planner, but he also wasn’t that good at acting on instinct. That usually resulted in a few minutes of anxiety before doing things but as he stepped into the apartment he didn’t hesitate in announcing, “I achieved your dream!”

Ada, who was stirring a pot on the stove as she absentmindedly scrolled through her phone, jumped and, when her wooden spoon flew through the air, splattering hot soup everywhere. “What?” She choked. She’d been snacking on random stuff in the kitchen as she cooked.

El pulled a chair from underneath the table and sat down grandly, as if to begin in a wild storytelling adventure. “You said that you wanted to be a storyteller. And you’d already made something so fantastic, I helped you share it. I helped your dream come true.”
The ever so fluent Ada found herself at a loss for words, and each word stumbled off the other in a race to the finish, but every contestant was a chicken with it’s head cut off. After a string of stutterances, she calmed herself down enough to say, “what exactly did you do?” But every time she was confronted with half of the news, Ada had a habit of jumping to the worst possible conclusion. And, she hated to admit it, but she was usually right. Her heart was beating too fast for it to be healthy and adrenaline was pumping through her veins enough to get someone high.

El, sensing at least some of this, said, entering the defensive position, “I went down to a place, and told Marta about you, and she really wants to hear your song.”

“And why would you do that?” Ada breathed, anger breathing its way through her gritted teeth.

“Because I wanted to save the world!” El yelled, a bit too loudly.

Ada scoffed, understanding exactly what he was thinking, “I didn’t ask you to do anything.”

“But-”

“I didn’t want you to do anything.”

“But I-”

“I don’t even know why you’re here!”

El knew how to respond to this one. He had decided to let his rational thinking self go, and was acting on a fight or flight mentality, and his wings didn’t work. “I told you! I am an angel! I am here for a reason!”

“Maybe you’re not! Maybe you’ve just lost your mind and you have to jump from place to place screwing up people’s lives.”

“I wanted to save-”
“I’M NOT THE WORLD!” Ada shouted. She knew in the back of her head she should be worried about the neighbors, but they’d had their share of noisy nights and at this point they owed it to her to turn a blind ear. “What are you trying to do? What, do you think I’m so pathetic I don’t know what I want? That I need you to swoop in here and save me?!”

“I didn’t mean that-” El’s eyes began to glimmer with tears, and Ada had to look away, pacing a few times to keep her anger up, because she needed this.

“Why? Why can’t you just listen, and then be done?!”
“Because you deserve more. You deserve the world.”
Ada laughed in spite of herself. “Yeah, okay. And why do you say that? Have you met anyone else in the entire world? Trust me. There are like, what, seven billion people in the world? And you think I’m the one who deserves it? Think again.”

“I mean-”
“I know there are some shitty people in the world. But guess what? I’m a shitty person too!” Ada feigned a gasp. “Yeah, so why don’t you project yourself onto someone who actually deserves it!”

“You do-”

“Oh shut up.” Ada started walking to the other room.

“Listen-” El pleaded, beginning to follow her.

“No.” Ada said, stopping to face him, trying really hard to get the message across. “Leave me alone.”

She shut the door behind her. El stared at the white painted wood. It was chipped in some places. He turned, and thought he should probably just leave, but he was paralyzed by so many things that begged him to stay. He pressed his back to the door, and let himself slide down until his butt slammed into the cold, hard ground. He began to cry.

And this wasn’t noble, soft, brave crying. It was pathetic. It was whimpering. His face was spotted with red and contorted itself into a lemony wrinkle. He had to take breaks to breath in rapidly, then continue wailing. He tried to make as little noise as possible, but every so often a squeak would escape. After saving up some breaths, hiccups, and a place between the tears, he choked out, “I thought if I couldn’t save the world, I could at least save one person.”

Goddammit, Ada thought. She was mad at him. She had to get that across. She had to sit in this room and let him suffer because that’s what he deserved. Ada had had a long streak of giving in because she always assumed everyone knew better than her, and she was trying to get better at standing her ground. This, she decided, was an exception.

Ada opened the door. El wavered slightly and turned his neck up to face her. Ada playfully kicked him and said, though it turned out more like a whisper, “get up.”

El did as he was told.

Ada led him to the couch, and motioned for him to sit down. “This is the emotional support couch, but it’s also the get over your bullshit couch. Would you like to pick which one you want it to be, or do you want me to tell you what you need?”
El wasn’t sure how to answer, so he didn’t.

“So be it. Get over your bullshit. Sometimes it’s hard. It doesn’t seem like bullshit, right? It seems like the most rational problem anyone’s ever had but let me tell you: don’t think you haven’t done anything.”

“But I couldn’t even save one person-”
“Bullshit,” Ada sung. “What about that driver, who I bet will never text while driving again. And the girl who was looking for a sign that couldn’t just ignore the man with angel wings. And the boy at the fast food place, who finally had a fun story to tell. And the polar bears, who benefitted from that crazy lady changing her tactics. And the woman who was too afraid to fight back. And Hazel, who was really excited to think I had met someone for a few seconds. And Marta, who is probably confused as to where you are but found some life in her old store. And the girl who had been alone for a long time.”

“What was that last one?” El said, smiling bigger than his face could fit.

“Shut up.”