| Page One | Page Two | Page Three | I
like to think that if I had been human, we might have been
friends.
But I’m not human, and never was. And he never even knew I
existed. So the whole theory that we might have been friends is a
moot point. Moot. What an interesting word. Moot, moot, moot . . . Donovan struck a chord half-heartedly on the piano, then
stopped and let his hands rest atop the keys, sounding a few
discordant notes. He sighed heavily and brushed the sheets of
paper aside, watching them flutter slowly to the carpet. Ever
since his best friend’s death Donovan had simply been unable to
write anything, not even a measure of a song. She’d been the
only person he cared about after his parents died. An only child,
their sudden demise eighteen months ago had been especially hard
on him, as he had no one to share his grief with. He had moved
back to the old house afterwards, and found his old friend still
living nearby. They had struck up their old friendship and Donovan
had even felt something more than that towards her. Then she
revealed that she had end stage lung cancer and he had been
crushed all over again. The white sheets of paper became
Fighting
back the tears that threatened to rise again, he stooped to pick
the papers
up and stacked them neatly beside the piano. He walked slowly
through the house, turning off lights, and went outside to the
pool. Mechanically he stripped down and slipped into the warm
water. The moonlight glimmered on the surface, broken only by his
arms as he went through the routine
motions of swimming. Donovan turned
over onto his back and floated. Finally he gave in and cried, his
tears mingling with the water in the pool. I sat on the edge of the pool, my feet barely beneath the surface of the water, and watched him float. If I hadn’t known what was in his mind, it would have been a peaceful scene, this young man drifting across the dark waters. But he was in despair and I, naturally, felt his emotions as if I experienced them myself. I suppose here would be a good time to introduce myself. My name is Tuyen, and I am Donovan’s guardian angel. I have watched him throughout his life since he was born, always present but never seen. When he took his first step, I wanted to reach out and make sure he didn’t fall. On his first day of high school, I cringed as the seniors pushed him aside and kept on walking. I was there when he first—never mind. When he was rejected from his first choice—and his second choice—colleges, I sat with him as his friends held graduation parties celebrating their acceptances. (The jerks.) I went with him to his job every night as a bartender in college and learned how to mix several hundred drinks. And I stood by his side at his parents’ funeral. I have been with him all his life, and he has never seen me for even one second of it. | Page One | Page Two | Page Three |
|
|
Site contents © 2001, Josie Chang. All Rights Reserved. Graphics
© 2001 Moyra/P.E.R for The Untitled. All Rights Reserved. |