Chapter Two

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     After my mother says the name, Father Andrew says to the whole church something about how having faith will make your angel come to you, then he asks us all to return to our seats. I can't believe my mother just said that. She's insane. Has to be. That's the only explanation for her actions.

     "Are you crazy?" I whisper to her when we're back in our seats.

     "Celeste, we'll talk about this later," she whispers back, keeping her gaze forward.

     "No, we'll talk about this now! Is my father dead or something?"

     "No," she says.

     "He's not dead, yet he's a guardian angel?" I'm whisper-yelling at this point. "Do you realize how completely insane that sounds?!"

     "Celeste!" She says just above a whisper. A few people around us look in our direction. Mother lowers her volume again. "We will talk about this later."

After the service is finally over, I stand by the door waiting as my mother chats with a few people just as she does every single Sunday. My back rests against the large archway before the door while my arms sit crossed and my legs and patience tire. Everybody knows everybody in the church. A few people say goodbye to me on their way out. I wish I could leave with them. Mother has glanced at me a few times now. She knows I want to leave. She must be buying herself time to think of how to explain herself. Why she thinks my father is our guardian angel even though he isn't dead. And how does she know that he isn't? Has she been speaking with him behind my back this whole time?

An eternity later, my mother passes me and we exchange a silent glare. I follow her out the doors and into her car. After she starts the car and we've left the parking lot, I speak.

"Now are you going to tell me what the hell that was all about?" I ask.

"Language," she growls.

I mimic the voice of stereotypical bible thumpers. "Oh but Mother, hell is not a swear. Hell is a place." My voice fades into my normal low and angry voice as I say, "A place where men and women of little faith go to burn for all eternity."

"That's enough!" Mother shouts. "I have had it with your sarcasm! Why do you constantly mock our religion?"

"Because it's not real!" I shout back. "None of it! Angels, demons, God, Satan, none of it exists! It's all just lies someone told their children forever ago to make them behave!"

She's hurt by my words. I always knew she would be. "How could you say that? You have no idea what's really out there, Celeste."

"You're right, I don't know. Because I've never seen any of it! How can you expect me to believe in all that crap when I've never seen it?"

"Because I have!" All is silent for a moment. "I've seen it."

"When?"

"Your father! He is my proof."

"How?" I ask. "How is my scumbag father proof that Heaven or Hell exists?"

"Scumbag?" She repeats. "Is that what you think of him?"

"Well yeah," I say in a 'duh' tone. "He left you when you got pregnant, and he never had any interest in me. What else am I gonna think?"

Mother looks at me as if I'd just told her that my dog died. Her tone is much more sweet and pitying now. "Honey, that's not true. Of coarse he's interested in you. He wanted nothing more than to be part of your life."

"Well then where the hell is he?" I yell. I feel tears start to pool in my eyes. "Where has he been? Does he even know my name?"

"Of coarse he does! He knows everything about you. He watches over you."

I laugh. "Right! Right, because he's my guardian angel."

Mother fidgets in the driver's seat. Her knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. "Cel," she starts. "I've been trying to tell you for a long time now." She pauses.

     "Tell me what?" I say flatly. I already know what she's going to say. Some gibberish about angels and Heaven and blah blah blah.

     "Your father is an angel," she finally says. Called it.

     "So he is dead?" I say more as a statement than a question.

     "No!" She argues. "He's a real angel, a live angel!"

     I can't take this anymore. She always says things like this. "Right, and I'm Angelina Jolie."

Mother sighs. "Celeste, I'm ser-"

"Mom!" I cut her off. "This isn't funny anymore! This is serious, you need help!"

"Help?" She snaps.

"Yes! Professional help!" There is a long moment of silence before she speaks again. I imagine she was going over what I said in her mind.

"You think... You think I'm crazy?"

I scoff. "To put it mildly." My opinion hurts her, I can tell. I can see the emotion in her eyes that are fixed forward, but she takes a deep breath and moves past my statement.

     "Celeste, please," she gently says. "You have to at least try to believe me."

     I sigh. "Why?" I look at her. Her eyes stay forward. "Why should I believe you? Give me some kind of proof."

     Mother shifts in her seat again. "Fine," she says. "I have your proof at home."

     I don't know whether to laugh or be scared. She couldn't possibly have proof. If she did, then why not give it to me sooner? And what could it even be? A fluffy feather from his wings? A piece of his broken halo? Please. Any of that can be faked. There is absolutely, positively nothing she could have that would be proof of an angel. Nothing.

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