Fallen (51 page)

“Because you are my guardian? Then let me make it easy on us…
Y
ou’re
fired
.
”

“It doesn’t work that way,
Magdalene
,” he said, quieter but
still
resolute
.

“I didn’t want you to watch over
me, Eran. I never asked for it.
”

As if he’d become an entirely new person
,
his reply was flat
and
detached
. “You’re a messenger. You require a guardian. It’s as simple as that.”

“Then we’ve just solved the issue, didn’t we?” I said causing him to finally look up. “This will be my last message. It’s from me to you…
goodbye
Eran.”

Turning swiftly,
I walked awa
y
just before the tears came
.

When
I woke up
that morning, I was
crying.

The fact that the alarm was still
going didn’t register with me –
not even when Rufus came through the door and yanked the cord out of the wall.

“What the
…
”
he started to say
, b
ut stopped abruptly.

He must have noticed my face, swollen, red, and wet with tears
,
because he pulled the chair in from the balcony and took a seat in front of me.

He didn’t say a word, just
waited
patiently
until I was ready to explain
.

“
How…
how
can love hurt so much?
” I mumbled, slipping my hands up from beneath the blankets to cover my face.

My
body was shaking
uncontrollably as I sobbed.
I had gone weak as I lay there, involuntary muscle spasms
being
the only movement
s
my body
made.

Rufus did his best to comfort me,
clumsily
patting my head, sitting back so far his entire arm needed to be extended fully to reach me.
I appreciated it nonetheless, knowing it was uncommon for him to delve
into
his sensitive side.

Finally, after I had cr
ied until no more tears would come
, I sat up.

His face was apologetic
, harboring some level of guilt
.
“
Maybe I shouldn’t have told ya ta go easy on the wanka’…”

On any other day, his statement would have made me laugh. Today, there was nothing.
“It’s not your fault, Rufus,” I said, my voice sounding odd
.
“You were just trying to make me happy.” I sniffed long and loud at the end.

Rufus stood and hurried to the bathroom where he brought back an entire roll of toilet paper. “Here, think ya need this.”

I smiled gratefully at him and unwound a few squares to blow my nose.

Again, I realized how lucky I was to know Rufus…and Ezra
…
and Felix.
That realization started another bout of tears
,
knowing today would be the last day I would see them. It took every bit of energy to
close the floodgates.

When my sobs quieted h
e
patted me once more
and stood, saying, “Dry up. Felix’s makin’ ya
chocolate chip crepes special fe
r yer finals
this week…but don’t
ya
get too excited. They’re made from
coconut
milk and will likely give ya the runs.”

He disappeared down the stairs to tell
Felix what he was doing wrong in the kitchen. I waited at the top of the stairs
,
listening to them bicker and to Ezra’s intermittent “Now boys…
”
realizing just how much I would miss them.

I had never dared to allow anyone
into
my life, to get as close as they had
become.
Then I found loving them came easy and that I needed it, going so far as feeling like I deserved to
be
love
d
and to love them in turn.

It
was this love that I had for them that
told me what I was going to do today was not insane but an act of love – the most
indisputable
action love can inspire
.

I went back to my room and unzipped my backpack.
Removing
a piece of paper and
a
pen
,
I sat down on my bed and
prepared to write.
But
I couldn’t summon the words that would make them
truly
understand how much I cared for them. Minutes passed as I felt consumed by emptiness. I felt like a shell, hard on the outside and hollow within.

Finally, I scribbled in uneasy lines four simple, straightforward words
:
I will miss you.

I pulled out a second piece of paper and wrote: Aunt Teresa,
take care
of yourself
.

I
turned to make
my bed for the first time, straightening the sheets and comforter and taking extra care to pile the pillows just perfectly. Lastly, I leaned in and placed the note
s
so that
they
rested against the pillows.
My roommates
would have no trouble finding
them
.

When I
went downstairs
to the kitchen
,
a cup of coffee
was waiting
for me
, my textbooks
were
piled up in case I wanted to do any last minute studying, and
a surprisingly d
elicious plate of crepes was placed
at my seat
.

No one said a word to me. Whether they saw my red eyes or Rufus had told them about my weeping attack, I couldn’t tell. But, they each showed in their own way that they cared
.
Ezra
came
up behind me and
placed
a comforting hand on my shoulder and Felix
set
a small vase of flowers cut from the backyard beside my plate
.

I ate slowly, cherishing my time with them. I had so much to ask them, so much I wanted to learn about
them
.
Despite
the void of emotion I suffered as a result of last night’s argument with Eran
,
I felt a longing to stay here and be a part of
this
family.

When I left for school, the three of them each gave their own encouragements
:
Rufus
…
a hearty pat to my back which almost sent me sprawling, Ezra
…
with a pencil and pen set engraved with the
profoundly appropriate
words “choose wisely
,
” and Felix
…
who
stood
at the steps as I started my bike, beaming like a proud father.

I would have said my goodbyes but that would have opened a whole slew of questions that
would
not
benefit them
or
me
by
answering.
I he
sitantly decided
a
clean break would be best
.

As I headed in the direction of school, I knew I should have taken the streets tha
t led me to the Interstate. I watched
the
green sign
,
signaling
the onramp
,
as I passed
by. I needed to make one stop
before I left…
I needed to
find Gershom.

He was the only one I knew who could explain to me how the Fallen Ones worked, how they found me, and how I could draw them to me and distract them from my roommates.

As I entered
the school parking lot,
it was evident that
news of
yesterday’s explosion
was still spreading.
Students and teachers alike
avoided me
when walking
toward
the main entrance. I didn’t see a single
friendly face in the crowd.
As I entered the building, e
ven a few of my customers who I was supposed to deliver messages back to avoided me by slipping
into
the bathroom
or
nearby classrooms. In all honesty, I didn’t care. My heart had already been broken the night before
.

I had
no emotion left.

I entered
the
main office
to find Ms. Olsonite standing inside The Warden’s office, his door slightly ajar.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” she called out sweetly. She obviously had no idea it was me.

I moved quickly, unsure when she would return to he
r desk, choosing the tallest filing cabinet first. It had the most drawers and, I thought, might be where the student’s files were kept. As I moved around her desk, I caught a glimpse of The Warden through the door, his head bowed, shaking
it
back and forth.

“That can’t be,” The Warden
stated, incensed
.

Ms. Olsonite
refuted him in a weak, unsure tone. “It’s what the report says. I couldn’t believe it
myself
.”

I reached the file cabinet and gently pulled it open, holding my breath that it wouldn’t squeak against its hinges. To my relief, it came open easily.

“She was at the sink moments before it happened,” The Warden said, exasperated. “It
had to be
her.”

My hands, already skimming through the files for Gershom’s name, froze.
My attention was now on the conversation in the next room.

Ms. Olsonite replied encouragingly, “Mr. Warden, you’ll really need to read the police report yourself. All I can tell you is that they said there was no sign of the chemicals used in the blast anywhere on her desk or in her locker but that trace amounts were found on the professor’s desk.”

The Warden sighed,
flustered
and
exasperated
.

“Apparently,” said Ms. Olsonite
,
continuing, “
T
hey’ve already tried to contact
Professor Elam
and have been unable to bring him in for questioning. The phone numbers he gave us have been disconnected and his home address was fictitious.”