There it was- mom’s new glass cabinet. Mr. Calhoun might have been the one who bought it, but it was still mom’s cabinet; so I had to check it out. I walked past mom’s new glass cabinet that was one foot above me. So curious about what was in it, I stepped on a high chair and laid my eyes on the figurines. I noticed how beautiful each of them looked. Each figurine had a detail that made it different from the others; I saw one with a harp, one with a trumpet, and another one with a lyre. Something entered my mind, so I made my way to the kitchen through the pool of toys I left lying on the floor. There was my fire truck that had a screaming siren, my toy robot that had a bright laser, and my Superman action figure that had a draping cape.

“Hey, mom, do you remember when I asked you like two years ago about angels? A few months after... dad passed away,” I asked, feeling a bit of nostalgia.

“Yeah, sweetie,” she replied curiously as she chopped the onions. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing, I just remembered.”

...

“Mom, are angels for real?” I asked, wondering about almost everything in the whole wide world.

“Why?”                Mom said with a sweet voice as she stroked my blond hair. “Don’t you believe in angels?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking. Our teacher told us about them.”

“Well, I believe in angels,” she started.  “Your dad is actually watching over you now... like an angel.” She went on as she looked at my eyes as charming as the clear, blue sea... or at least, that’s what she said.

“I know.” I replied, feeling reluctance in my own answer.

“Besides, I think anyone with a good heart is an angel.” Mom smilingly said.

“You think so?” I curiously asked.

“I know so,” she assured me.  

...

“Hmm... Alan,” she teasingly said. “Did you check out my glass cabinet?” She asked as I snapped out of my memory.

“Well, sort of. How did you know?”                  

“Logan told me, he said he saw you getting fascinated with the angels and all...”

“Really? Well, where is he?” I asked uninterestingly, trying to sound as if I preferred doing my Math homework than talking about Mr. Calhoun.

“He’s at the front porch, watering the plants.”

So Mr. Calhoun- mom’s new ‘evil friend’- told her about me, huh, I thought. I never liked him, nor did I ever understand why mom did. They talk and laugh about a lot of stuff and make goo-goo eyes with each other- something I would never do with Mr. Calhoun.  

“So, mom, Mr. Calhoun isn’t an angel, right?” I continued.

 “Why wouldn’t he be?” She disappointedly asked.

 “Because he’s not nice,” I declared.

“Oh, sweetie, Logan is very nice.”

“Well, if he is nice like the way you describe him to be... then angels aren’t real.”

“And where did you get that conclusion, Alan?”

“You see, if ‘nice people’ like Mr. Calhoun could pass off as angels, then anyone could. So... angels aren’t real.”

“Okay, I didn’t quite get that, Alan. Logan is an angel in every way,” she insisted. “Besides, you shouldn’t be stressing yourself out because of him,” she reminded me. “By the way, Alan, you’re gonna have to accept the fact that Logan’s your new dad,” mom continued.

“But I don’t want Mr. Calhoun to be my dad.” I said, trying to refuse the fact that he already was.

“Well, you’re gonna have to accept that, especially because we’ll be moving to New York with him.”

“What? But, mom, I don’t want to live with Mr. Calhounatic. He’s evil!”

“Oh, honey.” She sighed as I left the kitchen.

As I lay down in bed that night, I thought of my doom. I didn’t want to live with the evil Mr. Calhoun. I didn’t want to move to New York. And I didn’t want him to be my new dad.

I figured that even though I’m only nine, I’d rather spend the rest of my life walking alone on the streets than to spend the rest of my life with Mr. Calhoun. So I began packing.  

 I turned a left at the edge of the street, crossed the block, turned right, and there it was- the park. I thought I could spend the nights there, long enough to miss our plane to New York. Just a night or two, I told myself. As I readied the park bench for sleeping, I turned my back and saw him.

Oh, come on. How on earth could Mr. Calhoun possibly be here? I asked myself.

Well, of course, evil Mr. Calhoun took me home, forcefully, actually. He carried my stuff, held a tight grip on my hand, and pulled me all the way to our house. The next thing I knew was that he was talking to mom about it. What an evil jerk, I thought.

The day I have always dreaded finally came. As we drove to the airport, streaks of lightning flashed in the sky. The air outside was so cold that I had to wear four shirts to cover myself up. But I guess nothing would ever stop mom from taking me to New York with Mr. Calhoun.

The thunders were as loud as our old washing machine that made noisy sounds whenever we used it. Sighing as I gazed at the clouds, I sat next to the window on the plane. It was a long trip, I thought. So I went to the room where people could sleep. I talked to my dad for hours in my dreams as I slept. And for once, I felt safe and okay, as if I had my own angel.

 When I opened my eyes, my mom was there. Tears rapidly rolled on her cheeks, her eyes almost swollen. Her hands felt as if they’ve been frozen as she held my arm.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Seemingly unaware of what was happening, I asked.

I sat up when mom didn’t answer. She hugged me tightly, with tears falling from her cheeks as she took gasps of breath. I could hear her heart beating, throbbing, and pounding anxiously. As I looked around the plane, I saw everyone doing the same. They were all sobbing endlessly and hugging their loved ones. It took me a long pause to take it in... Something was definitely wrong.

“Mom, what’s happening?!” Holding both of her wrists with my shaking hands, I demanded. Soon, I found myself crying too, though I had no idea about what was happening.

“Alan, sweetie,” breathing heavily, mom replied. “The plane is about to crash.”

Mom did everything to explain. She told me everything- from the part when the staff of the plane discovered that something was wrong to the part when they told it to everyone else. But I didn’t care about that; I only cared about how all the people on the plane would be able to survive.

The noises blocked my head. Everyone was running around in circles. Everyone was crying. Everyone was praying. Everyone was about to die.

Mom took my hand and led me to the corner. Mr. Calhoun, seemingly calm about the situation, was there. Mom sat at the other edge of the seat and made me sit between them. I felt Mr. Calhoun’s warm body next to my frozen one, his skin tenderly brushing mine. Mom placed her arms around me and gently held my hand. I was complete.

“I love you, mom and dad.” I whispered.

..........................

 I woke up on a hospital bed. My mom, all covered in huge wounds, was there too. But her condition seemed to be better than mine.

“Hey, sweetie, you’ve been sleeping for so long,” mom said with tears in her eyes that showed joy and sadness at the same time.

“I was?” I asked.                                        

“Yes you were, Alan. Your heart even had to be replaced because of the accident.” A doctor said behind me.

“My heart... replaced?” I asked, confused with everything that was happening,

“Yes, Alan, you’re in fact very lucky, the doctor said as he left.

“You were brave out there, honey.” Mom proudly said.

“I was? Well then, where’s Mr. Calhoun?” I asked after noticing his absence.

“You see, Alan,” mom paused, took a deep breath, and went on. “He’s not here anymore.”

“He’s gone?” I asked as if I lost my favorite toy.

“He’s gone, but his heart will be with you, Alan, forever and always.”

..........................

And with mom’s words, I knew that angels, whether on heaven or earth, are for real.