As I Breathe (One Breath at a Time: Book 2) (7 page)

Eventually, I grew to love the songs from this era, too. Some more than others…”Green Eyes” by Bob Eberly and The Tommy Dorsey Orchestra was one of their favorites and, after playing it several times, mine too. Of course, I think this was because my eyes were green. I can hear the song playing now in the corners of my mind. The angels hummed along sometimes. Thank God, I could tolerate their humming.

After the other two voices vanished I called the one who remained,
Storm
. It was just a name that I’d come up with because he reminded me of a storm. He came into my head like the sound of roaring thunder and then disappeared for days at a time before roaring in again.

“
I heard you talking to that old man in the church parking lot today. You shouldn’t talk to strangers.” Storm scolded me.

“
What? He’s our new preacher,” I retorted in a piercing tone.

“
I know. I heard him up there pounding his fist and raising all kinds of hell. He could be a devil in disguise...you never know. Remember what happened the time you thought—”

I loved to talk to everyone and anyone. This drove Storm nuts. He was overly protective when it came to me, and it seemed that nothing got by him. There were many times I wished Storm would just pop out of my head, so that I could kick him squarely in the shins for being so controlling. In spite of my desire to cause him pain, I learned the hard way to trust Storm. Still, this took a while. Years, in fact. Who could blame me? I was young and really didn’t know what the hell he was—an angel as my grandmother had claimed, or a curse, as my mother would insist.

“I know, Storm. I remember what happened. By the way, you better quit cussing. You are going to be in big trouble with God.”

“
He’ll forgive me,” he confidently said.

“
Yeah, I hope so for your sake. Why are you so bossy?” I asked.

“
I’m not. I was just reminding you to be careful.”

“
I get it. Between you and my parents it’s all I’ve heard every day since”—the lump in my throat caught the words I couldn’t say—“but seriously, why you feel the need to warn me about our preacher?”

“
He’s a man...isn’t he?”

“
Yeah...a man of God. Just like you, right?” I questioned him with a worthy note of suspicion.

Storm muttered a string of grouchy words. I couldn’t make out what he said, and then he added,
“Speaking of which...it’s time for me to check on something.”

“
Go on, go...leave. That’s what you always do when I ask you questions,” I nonchalantly said as if I didn’t care, but I did.

I had a lot of questions that Storm refused to answer. He promised me that when I was old enough, he would tell me great secrets.
Secrets?
Were they greater than the ones Grandmother told me? I didn’t think that was possible, but still, I had a suspicious idea he knew something worth learning.

I hated it when adults, or even Storm, for that matter, played the “wait until you’re old enough” card as an excuse to keep things from me.

All of my teachers claimed that I was very precocious for my age, and that I could handle some things most adults couldn’t. Storm brought out the best and the worst in me. I behaved defensively and acted like a spoiled brat when he kept things from me, especially when it came to his true identity. This was something that he never wanted to discuss, which gave me one big reason to distrust him. I didn’t have time to sit around waiting on Storm to tell me the truth about who he was. My impatience waned as the years dragged on.

It’s funny how time seems to drag when you are a kid. I remember it took forever to go from our house to my grandmother’s house, and it seemed as if the month of December, waiting for Santa to arrive, was the longest month of them all. However, this all changed the older I became. Everything changes, as we get older.

Science says time is retroactive. When you are four years old, one year is 25% of your life...so one year to a child drags on. The chronological distortions we suffered as children were not due to impatience; they were truly long periods of time to endure. As for adults, let’s say for someone who is forty years old, one year is only 2% of their lifetime, hence, the years fly by much more quickly for adults.

For long periods of time, my life moved slowly, it seemed as if it were Storm and me against the world. Despite the fact that Storm had an arrogant attitude every now and then, we still bonded in a weird way. I knew that he had my best interest at heart. Of course he did, after all he was my angel, but his over protective ways were making me crazy. At times his behavior reminded me of that of a stalker. He was disruptive and showed up whenever he wanted to, regardless of whether or not I wanted him around like the time I was grounded.

I liked how you told your teacher today that she shouldn’t wear all that make-up,”
Storm said.

“
You liked that? I got suspended, and I’m grounded in my room for a week!” I bellowed and threw myself onto my bed. “I was only trying to help her!”

“
Yeah, now you and I can hang out all day long.”

“
Hum...really? You mean until I start asking you questions about who you really are, or where you came from, and where you go when you disappear? Right?”

“
I will tell you one day...when the time is right.”

“
The time is right now! I will be fourteen in two days. You promised—”

He interrupted me and said,
“No. It is too soon.”

“
Fine! Be an ass...”
I whispered.

“
Hey, where are you learning to talk like that?”
Storm demanded.

“
I’m teenager now if you haven’t noticed. It’s how we talk. Besides, I’ve learned a lot of bad words from you,” I stammered back. He didn’t respond, how could he?

I glanced at myself in the mirror above my vanity as I pranced by. Not bad. I was thin, tall and my bosoms were growing nicely. My hair wasn’t as curly as it once had been since it now hung down past my waist. I suppose the weight of it pulled out the curls.

I climbed to the center of my bed, digging through my mother’s make-up bag. I’d snuck it out of her room earlier that day. I didn’t think that she would miss it; she hardly wore any make-up as it was.

“
What do you look like, Storm?”

“
Why? Does it matter?”

“
Not really. But, if you’re like...hmm, super ugly...it might.”

“
I’m not ugly,”
he laughed.

“
So, do you have wings?”

“
No wings,”
he confirmed.

“
Really? No wings, huh. How about horns and a tail?”

“
Hum, maybe,”
he said and chuckled, arrogantly.

“
Gross,” I said as I applied a slick layer of lipstick on my full lips.

“
What are you doing? You’re so quiet?”

“
Making myself prettier.” I puckered and viewed my lips in the small compact mirror. Up close, my lips practically filled the entire space of the mirror.

“
Why? For whom?”

“
Myself. I was wondering, since I’ve never asked you, can you see me?”

“
Sometimes, but mostly though, I see shadows of you, and of others who are near you. But, I do not see you clearly.”

“
Hum. Well, from what you
do
see...do you think I’m beautiful?”

“
Why are you asking me this?”

“
Well, if
you
think I’m pretty, then maybe other boys will too.”

I heard him sigh loudly, mumbling under his breath,
“Who cares what boys think?”

“
I do,” I stammered. “Answer me or get out of my head.”

“
I don’t know.”
He paused, leaving me hanging for what seemed entirely too long of a time, especially for what should have been a simple answer.
“You’re pretty on the inside,”
he laughed loudly.

“
Storm, that’s not funny.”

“
Okay, I will tell you a secret.”

“
Really?”

“
Are you clothed?”

“
Yes. Why?” I exclaimed.

“
Then go stand in front of a full length mirror.”

Although I was hesitant to do so, I stood up and opened my closet. There was a full-length mirror hanging on the inside of the door.

“Here I am.”

I looked at myself up and down appraisingly. My narrow hips jutted out to one side, it was my favorite pose. I was wearing low-rise faded jeans rolled up at my ankles, a pink v-neck tee and black ballerina slippers. My thick blonde hair was secured back in a loose ponytail that hung just beyond my waist. The tiny little rhinestone bobby pins that were holding back my long fringe sparkled nicely. In full-faced make-up—lipstick, eye shadow and all, I looked much older than I was, maybe even eighteen.

“What are you thinking?”
Storm interrupted my personal examination of myself.

“
I don’t know, Storm. My forehead is too big, my eyes are not big enough, and my lips are taking over my face. I look like an alien,” I whined.

“
Brielle, you’re an angel...and you are becoming a very beautiful young woman.”

“
What! You can see me?”

“
Yes, that’s the secret. When you see your own reflection, I can see you very clearly.”

I fell to the floor on all fours. “Oh my God! You mean all these years you could see me when I looked into a mirror?” I gasped and quickly slammed the door shut. I crawled to my bed, making sure I dodged the mirror that hung above my vanity. Even though I’d never given much thought to whether Storm could see me or not, I wasn’t prepared for this. His confession hit me hard.

“Brielle, I would never invade your privacy. I always shut my eyes when you look at yourself—when you are, uh, you know—”
Storm stuttered, seemingly embarrassed.

“
You better, Buster!”

“
I would never look at you when you are, well, getting undressed, or dressed, you know, things of that nature.”

I wanted to trust him. The thought of Storm seeing me naked was overwhelming.

“There are things happening—growing under these clothes—private things that you don’t need to be looking at. Got it?” My body was changing in places that even I didn’t look at; I would have to take extra precautions before just stripping down. Great, this revelation left me with no privacy at all.

“
Don’t worry. I promise not to look.”
His tone sounded extremely sincere and for some reason, I believed him. After all, angels don’t lie. Enough about my body, we’d come to a cross road, I needed the naked truth about him.

“
Where are you? I mean...I know you’re in my head but where are you, really?”

“
I am with you.”

“
So, does that mean that you don’t have a body?”

“
No—I do—Sort of...”
His words were suspicious, and I could tell that he was stalling. I feared that he was not going to tell me what he really meant.

“
Then, why can’t I see you?”

“
It’s complicated.”

“
I can understand complicated things. Jeez.”

“
Like I told you earlier, I will tell you when it’s time.”

“
When?”

“
I don’t know yet.”

“
Why?”

“
Because I don’t.”

“
Why?”

“
Brielle, stop it.”

“
Stop, what?”

“
What you are doing,”
he quipped.

“
Why?”

“
Because.”

“
Because...why?”

“
Because. I said so!”

“
So, what should I sew for you?” I burst into maddening laughter and put my headset on before he could make a comeback. I loved having the last word. This made him crazy. I used to love making him lose his mind. It tickled me to no end.

***

My trust in Storm swayed like a pendulum, back and forth. We had good days, and then we had the bad ones. At times I wanted to cut off my head and roll it like a bowling ball in hopes that he would fall out of the holes of my ears, nose or mouth. This was desperate thinking on my part. Then again, there were moments that I shuddered at the thought of
what if
—what if Storm had never come into my life—my head?