Skyscraper Angel - September 19, 2010

I could do it. I knew I could. My feet were already at the edge of the cement that led to the twenty seven story drop below. All I had to do was take a step, a hop, or a leap, and it would be done. Finished in a matter of seconds. My eyes watered at the city breeze that stung them, bits of smog caught into the swirl of air. It whipped past my clothes, shaking them in a futile attempt to push me back towards the roof's door. But I wasn't going to back down, no matter how much it pleaded for my safety. Months earlier, I had decided this fate, and slowly come to terms with it being the end. Of everything. At least, I thought, this will end my misery. I allowed myself one last memory, before I would take that condemning step. It was the memory I was trying to rid myself of, for eternity.

Only six months earlier, I had been a healthy, happy, teenage girl. Lead actor in the Theater department of my high school, loving girlfriend of the second hottest guy in school, and devoted friend to all my classmates. It was a life that seemed perfect in every way. Maybe a little too perfect to be completely true. It was March, blustery and cold. Fingers of ice and snow melted everywhere I looked, dribbling casually onto the ground. My red rubber boots sloshed through the sleet of melting snow and mud, too new to even allow through the strongest attempts to wet my socks. I was meeting my boyfriend behind the high school. He usually always came earlier than me, so this time, I would surprise him. My mitten-ed hands were pressed to my mouth, while I huffed steamy clouds of warm air into them. It really only succeeded in making them damp, and even colder once the air set upon them with its fierce chilly claws. The cheeks of my face were beet red, almost the same color as my galoshes. My head was kept, thankfully, warm by the Eskimo type hood attached to my winter jacket and the tomato red scarf constricting around my neck. All in all, I looked like a cherry in my winter getup, but I knew Shane didn't mind. That's my boyfriend, by the way.

Our high school was huge. At least, back then it seemed to be, seeing as I was still very small, even as a junior. If you didn't know how to navigate the inside, you were doomed to be lost. Or swept away and crushed by rampaging upperclassman. Either way, it wasn't pleasant. Going around the school was no small matter either, especially with the soggy snow banks piled in every odd place. I shuffled quietly towards the small alley in the back of the school, between the gym and the main building. The stones on the wall were always warm for some reason, too, which made it an even more desirable place to be. Five feet away from the opening of the alley, I stopped. Shane was there, sure enough, but he wasn't alone. I could just barely hear what he was saying, in between the kisses exchanged with Meloney Kline, our schools co-head cheerleader. "I've gotta go soon, Melly. My girlfriend's going to be here soon. I promised we'd go on a date today." Another kiss, then Smelly Melly spoke too. Her voice, to me, was as irritating as nails on a chalkboard. "C'mon, Shane. Why don't you just dump Emma already? You already said you'd rather have me than that little girl." Shane's turn again. "Well, it's not that easy. I mean, she's super cute, but not hot. She's a great girlfriend to keep up my image as the cool, nice guy. Can't I just have you on the side too?" Meloney frowned, stepping back a bit. "I'm not a second, and why wouldn't I be an okay girlfriend with your image?" Shane put his hands up in defense of himself. "Sorry, sorry. You're right. She doesn't even let me go any farther than kissing. Not even a french. I'd rather have you." And it was at that precise moment that I hurled a stone from the ground, right at the side of his head. It missed, of course, but slammed into the roof loud enough to startle them both. He saw me. I saw him. He opened his mouth. I flipped him the bird . . . Then I ran. In the end, we stopped speaking to each other. As far as I know, he's still dating Smelly Melly. His name is taboo in my circle, though. So I don't know much.

What really pushed me over the edge after that, was when my Father passed away, leaving me with my Mother. Before his illness, she had been a lively woman I would be proud to call my Mom. But, through the months of being in the hospital with my Dad, she had withered and died away down to a husk of her former self. I was left living with her, and taking care of her. She barely had the strength to go on, so I had to be her crutch. My friends told me I was too responsible for my age, thanks to my Mother, but all I felt was this deep depression setting in. The stress was unbearable. Bathing, clothing, feeding, it was like having an overgrown baby or more like a living doll. The neighbors helped out as much as they could whenever I was in school, but I always had to come home right afterwards. Obviously, theater was out of the question. There was always the option of putting Mom in a home, but I had no idea if we could afford it. And, in the back of my mind, I wondered if someday she would just snap out of it and say," Sorry, Emma baby. I was gone for a while. But I'm back now." But she didn't. Every day felt heavier and heavier, it was harder and harder to get out of bed. By the end of June, I had orchestrated my plan. I would wait until September, and then I would jump off of a building in the city. I had always liked the idea of flying . . .

A scent, like lilacs in the heat of summer, drifted past me. It was carried on the wind, the kind of wind that mussed my long, choppy, auburn hair. I loved the smell of lilacs, ever since I was a child. And it calmed my raging thoughts. If I was going to jump, now would be the time. One foot lifted over the edge of the building, and I allowed myself to tilt ever so gently over the edge. A hand, warm and strong, clamped down on my shoulder, pulling me backwards, onto the rooftop once again. I stumbled, my sneakers catching on a crack in the floor, but I didn't fall onto my butt as I thought I would. No, my back collided with a solid object, one that had the feel and warmth of a human body. My head turned to the side, my eyes searching for what could've stopped my attempt. Warmth flooded my body, and I forgot everything that had been that moment. All I could think to say was," oh my . . . Daddy . . ."

His smile was the sun for me, right then and there. It was the sun that, no matter what, I couldn't find in the earlier months. His giant hands clasped tightly over my shoulders, cupping them in a familiar gesture of pure love. He wasn't the man I had seen at the funeral, a grey, sickly looking frail man. He was absolutely radiant, his skin almost glowing in the faint sunlight of the chilly autumn day. The towering, strong, smiling man that I had known as Daddy was back, and he looked as kind as ever. The creases at the corners of his mouth synched it, it was him, and he was back. "Emma, honey. What are you doing up here?" He asked, his voice the smooth consistency of melted chocolate. And just as sweet. Guilt poured in from the corners of my mind, causing me to look to my feet in shame. I didn't know what to tell him. There were words that seemed fit, but I couldn't open my mouth enough to say them. His hands turned me so that we faced each other, fingers rising to cup and lift my chin. "Oh, sweetie. It's alright. This isn't your time, okay? Just go back down." It was then that the words came out. "But, Daddy, I don't want to go back! It's . . . It's so hard!" As if by reflex, my hands enveloped his waist as he pulled me close in a comforting embrace. "If it were easy, there wouldn't be heartache like this, honey. No matter how hard things get, you can't think that this is a way out. It's never a way out. Ever. Please listen to me, Emma. You have to live; you still have a purpose that you need to fulfill. I want to see you grow up, have kids, grow old with your husband. And during all that, I'll be right there with you. When you leave, I'll be right there too.  Live, sweetie. Live like I never could." My eyes watered, stinging with the salt of tears threatening to fall. He was right, this was no way out. I needed to be there for mom, and my friends, to be there for whatever future lay in front of me. "Oh Daddy, I know what you are . . . You have to promise, alright? You have to promise . . ." His embrace grew tighter, and I could feel the small splash of water on my neck and in my hair. "I promise sweetheart." The warmth, the lovely warmth I had been searching so long for, was there. And then it was gone, leaving me with a fleeting sensation of loss and shame. Instead, those feelings were replaced with pure love and forgiveness, warm hands of comfort holding me tight as the rain started to pour. My blue eyes looked at the arms that had only moments before held something that seemed so real, and then they shifted to the clouded sky. For a moment, I thought I saw a face up there, but it must've been my imagination. Thoroughly soaked, I had to leave.

I pushed open the door of the building, exiting with a few curious glances from the people working in the lobby. They didn't say anything, but I knew what they were thinking. My feet carried me down the sidewalk; I hadn't brought money for a return trip. Obviously, I would not have had any need for it. As I turned the corner of Loleca Street, I paused. On the curb, was a blue Cadillac, just like the one my Dad had owned. It brought back the scene from the earlier, which was still fresh in my mind, and made me smile. My feet carried me further down the sidewalk, only stopping when I reached a crosswalk light. "Emma! Emma where are you!" I whipped around, hair sticking to my tear and rain streaked face. My Mom was there, covered in the same brilliance as my Father had been. She was blooming with health. Her eyes seemed out of place, with her strangely angelic looks. They looked panicked and scared. "I'm here Mom!" I yelled, running towards her. Relief flushed into her eyes as she collapsed onto her knees on the sidewalk, arms outstretched. I fell into them. "How'd you know I was here?!" She smoothed hair from my eyes, grief, relief, and love all evident on her face. "I just felt like I needed to come here. And there was this voice saying the name Emma in my head. If I didn't know he was already dead, I would've thought it was your Father's voice." Drenched, sobbing, and totally relieved, we both sat there until we were able to pull ourselves into the Cadillac and zoom home. To this day, I'll never forget that Angel who pulled me from the wreckage of my own head, and showed me that love can heal as well as save. I grew up and married my college sweetheart, Grant, and had one beautiful child, Thomas, who looks just like my Dad.
 

-Terra Evans