Chapter 2

I'm nervous.

I think this might finally be it! I'm getting my final assignment from the Big Cheese himself!

I run my hand through my hair, smooth out the wrinkles on my shirt, and breathe into my palm to check the state of my breath. Without warning, the giant ivory doors before me swing open.

"Enter." The Voice booms from within.

I make my way in, eyes averted, and await my orders.

Pages flutter as he thumbs through a file. The non-descript beige folder is then pushed towards me.

Okay. You've done really well, and it's almost time for your promotion. One final task. If you can fix this, you've earned your wings for sure!

I take the file between trembling fingers and begin to peruse the mission details. Bits of information catch my eye as I skim the file. I look up.

"Really?"

He nods, looking slightly bemused.

I let out a loud exhale and look back at the file again.

"I've certainly got my work cut out for me, don't I?"

He smiles. "See what you can do."

I look at him meekly. "Seattle, huh? Couldn't have been someone in Hawaii or Barbados to save?"

The Boss just smiles and shakes his head.

"What happens if I fail?"

"Just do your best. I have faith in you."

I nod. "I won't let you down."

I look at the file. I won't let him down either.

Without another word, I turn and leave to get ready for my mission.

Seattle.

I'm going to need an umbrella.

. . . . . .

Christian shivers. The precipitation that falls over him is a frigid mix of rain, slush and ice. He pays it no mind, but remains at the bridge railing, head on his hands, weeping. He suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder.

"Say, Friend. Do you need some help?"

Christian jerks away and looks up to see a stranger with a black umbrella standing beside him. He's a tall man in a beige overcoat, thinning, sandy blonde hair, a pleasantly lined face, and bushy eye-brows framing warm, hazel eyes.

"Nothing to see here, buddy. Move along." Christian mutters.

I hold the umbrella over both of us and try again.

"Looks like you're not doing so well. How about I get you a cup of coffee and we can talk?"

"No thanks."

"Tea?"

"No."

"How about a sandwich?"

"Look buddy, all you can do for me right about now is to fuck off."

I sigh and look skyward. Oooookay. Let's try again.

"I can't do that Christian."

Christian looks up again, trying to focus.

"Do I know you?"

"No, Christian. But I know you. And I know you're in a tough spot right now."

Christian eyes me warily. "What's your deal, buddy?"

"I'm your guardian angel."

"My angel."

"Yup. Only an angel second class, though. See, I've got one more mission, and then I finally get my wings. I've just got to help you out."

Christian continues to stare, dumbfounded.

"I assure you, this isn't a trick or a hallucination. I'm not crazy. Oh, and neither are you! You need help, and if I can help you, I get my wings!"

"Is that like a boy scout badge?"

"Um, yes. Sure."

"And just how are you supposed to help me? My life has gone to shit. What could you possibly do to help me right now?"

"Well, you were contemplating jumping, were you not?"

Christian remains silent.

"Just now, you wished you hadn't been born. That life would be better for those you love if you just weren't in the picture."

Christian cocks an eyebrow, then nods confirmation.

"So let's do this then!"

"Do... what, exactly?"

"You wished you were never born. I'll make that happen and we'll see if that solves your problem."

"What the hell have you been smoking? Holy fuck. I think I've had too much to drink."

I take Christian gently by the arm.

"C'mon, friend. We've got a lot to see and only a limited time to do it in."

Without another word, I take my umbrella and tip it forward in front of us. I give it a quick spin and then lift it back over us again. As I do, we're both temporarily blinded by sudden mid-day sunlight. Our surroundings have changed – considerably! We are now no longer on the pedestrian walkway of the bridge in the middle of a rainy night, but instead, on a busy street corner, mid-day. The buildings are unfamiliar, the air is warm and hazy with car exhaust.

"Jesus! Where are we?" Asks Christian, turning around to take in his surroundings.

"Detroit."

We spot a young couple walking by. The man is in acid-wash denim and a leather jacket with metal studs. The girl is also in acid-wash jeans, pegged and folded at the ankle. She is wearing a short t-shirt that bares her mid-riff. Her hair is in a high ponytail, and bright plastic bangles adorn her wrist. Christian surveys the other people walking about and notices everyone is dressed pretty much in the same, dated manner.

"Uh... WHEN are we?"

"1988."

We hear a man yelling at a young, petite, brunette woman, and notice the arguing couple just ahead.

"Fuck you, Ella! Get in the god-damn car."

"No, fuck YOU! I'm not going anywhere with you!" She pulls away and runs past them.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, bitch!" the man screams after her.

Christian gapes. "Is that..."

"Yes." I reply. "That's your mother."