Even Angels Fall
by Jessica Riddle
You found hope
You found faith
Found how fast she could take it away
Found true love
Lost your heart
Now you don't know who you are
She made it easy
Made it free
Made you hurt till you couldn't see
Sometimes it stops
Sometimes it flows
Baby, that is how love goes
Chorus:
You will fly and you will crawl
God knows even angels fall
No such thing as you lost it all
God knows even angels fall
It's a secret no one tells
One day it's heaven
One day it's hell
It's not a fairy tale
Take it from me
That's the way love's supposed to be
Chorus
You will laugh
You will cry
No one knows why
Behold the thrill of it all
You're on the ride
You might as well
Open your eyes
Chorus
Even angels fall
Even angels fall
January 1, 1901
"Happy New Year! Happy birthday!"
Meggie Lewis grinned at her father. She loved being born on the New Year…It made her birthday feel so fresh, so alive.
"I'm off ta woik," her father continued.
"Have a good day," Meggie replied, grinning as her father left. Singing softly to herself, she prepared for her day.
January 1, 1902
Meggie cracked open an eye and rolled over in bed - and immediately regretted moving.
"Ugh," she moaned, pressing a palm against her forehead in an effort to reduce the pain.
It had to be - what? Noon? Shaking her head, Meggie decided it didn't matter…Thinking would probably make her headache worse anyway - damn hangovers!
A bitter laugh escaped her dry throat when she realized what the date was. Her birthday. What a joke. Birthdays - ha! They were for children who didn't have to make their way in the world alone.
With a resigned sigh, she got out of bed and prepared to face the world.
January 1, 1901
She had just finished cleaning the apartment when a knock sounded at the door - how odd. She wasn't expecting anyone, except for perhaps her father, who was due home from the factory soon. She hurriedly walked across the length of the small tenement to the door.
"Yes?" she asked softly, cracking the door open only slightly. Harlem could be a bit…rough. Having lived there her whole life, she knew not to take any chances.
"Excuse me, are you a Miss Margaret Lewis?" She nodded silently, and he continued. "Is your mother - one Margaret Jane Lewis - at home?"
Surprised into silence, Meggie involuntarily stepped away from the door, her curiosity evident in her bright blue-green eyes. "No, sir, she ain't…She's been dead fah several years, ya know." She tried to be as gentle as possible, but - well, the man couldn't have known her mother that well if he didn't even know the woman had died 15 years ago giving birth to her one and only child - Meggie.
The man looked briefly concerned, but then he seemed to conclude that whatever he was worried about wasn't actually his problem. "Well, Miss, I regret to hear such sad news. I also regret to inform you that your father - one Robert Michael Lewis - has been lost in a factory accident this morning."
If Meggie had been surprised at the mention of her mother, she was downright shocked at the knowledge of her father's death.
"You…must - you must be mistaken, sir," she cried, grabbing his arm as he turned to leave. "It wasn't - wasn't - my fathah - couldn't have been! Ya'h mistaken, sir! Mistaken!" She realized with a start that she was screaming at the poor man. People were pouring out of their tenements into the hallway, and suddenly she knew, perhaps by the sympathetic faces of her neighbors, or perhaps the utter calmness of the messenger, but she knew that her father was dead, and she was all alone.
January 1, 1902
Tears streamed down Meggie's face as she ran blindly away - as fast as she could run, anyway. She couldn't stay - couldn't! She could never go back.
In her hurry, she nearly ran past her apartment building. About halfway down the next block, she noticed her surroundings and after muttering a quick curse, ran back in the other direction. Up the stairs, down the hall - why was it taking so long? - and then through her very own door after a short struggle with the key.
She stood there, her back to the door, for several minutes, panting heavily after the long run. How could she have been so stupid? How could she degrade herself like that?
Sinking to her knees, Meggie wondered how long it would take for her to die.
January 10, 1902
Knock, knock, knock.
"Miss Lewis, I need da rent!"
Knock, knock, knock.
"Ya'h two weeks behind, Miss Lewis!"
Knock, knock, knock.
"Please, Meggie, don't make me evict ya! I must have da rent!"
Silence.
Meggie glanced towards the door as she heard the footsteps of her landlord commence again, only they were getting softer now, as opposed to the general increasing in volume when he had walked to the door. She hadn't left the tenement in - what, a week? More? Since her sixteenth birthday, but she had no idea how many days ago that had been.
She heard the keys jiggle in the lock, and she struggled to a standing position. She hadn't moved in hours - days, weeks, did she really know? - and felt the stiffness as she tried to move her limbs. The filth was thicker on her body than it had perhaps ever been before…In the week or more since she'd locked herself in her apartment, she had not stopped her weeping, heavy thoughts, or drinking long enough to cook or bathe. She didn't care.
Or wouldn't, if she weren't about to have company.
"Miss Lewis," the landlord said as he gingerly opened the door and stepped inside. "Meggie, my dear, this place is a mess! Yah mothah - "
"Is dead," she inserted coldly, not wanting to hear another story about her wonderful mother. Slowly, she limped over to where he was standing in the middle of the room. Margaret Elizabeth Lewis - named for her mother and her paternal grandmother - had been born with one leg shorter than the other, resulting in a very obvious limp that, while not painful, did tend to drain her energy. Of course, her energy was a completely different story. According to her grandmother (father's mother, of course) she was "as sickly as that mothah ah hers." And then Papa would say that he had loved Margaret, despite her bad health, and loved his child perhaps because of her delicacy rather than in spite of it.
"Margaret," the landlord said mournfully, shaking his head. She stared coldly into his eyes, her own features revealing the quite obvious truth - if she wasn't drunk, she was hungover. It was a story he was beginning to know well.
Rap, rap, rap.
The new sound at the door surprised Meggie to the point of falling down, but she managed to crumble to the ground almost gracefully.
"Meggie?" a voice questioned from the doorway. "Mistah Raines?" The boy's eyes fell upon Meggie's body on the floor, and he immediately realized that she had been drinking.
Mr. Raines turned around, not unconcerned for his young tenant but simply not knowing what to do for her. "It's the rent, Daniel. Two weeks - I cain't keep lettin' her stay heah outta da goodness ah me heart!"
"Yes, sir. I undahstand. She'll be out soon." Daniel Sanderson barely looked at his landlord as he, the younger of the two men, herded the older out of the room. His eyes remained on the young girl curled into a ball before him as he shut the door and walked over to her.
Meggie was not asleep. She was dizzy.
"Meggie, dahlin', we gotta get ya outta heah…Ya'h comin' ovah ta Mama's," Daniel tried to reassure her as he stooped to pick her up.
She shook her head gently, as only small movements would keep the food in her stomach - but she hadn't eaten. It would keep her from vomiting, anyway, whether there was food in her stomach or not. "Leave me be, Daniel," she said softly, pushing herself out of his reach and closing her eyes once again.
Daniel wasn't a magician. He hadn't the slightest idea what to do for the slight wisp of a 16 year-old girl laying near him. No matter that he had known her since he had moved into the tenement building six years ago…Meggie Lewis confused him more with every day she lived.
Not that she would care if he told her that.
But back to the current problem. She had to either be sleeping or passed out, he decided as he studied her intently, his eyes sweeping from the straight sandy blond hair to the long lashes and full lips to the short, thin figure of a girl who hadn't ever grown much or eaten well enough to make her grow. Then he realized she wasn't - wasn't sleeping or unconscious, that is. She was crying. It was a surprise to Daniel, who was used to anything, but not crying. Not emotions. At least, not since her father had died more than a year ago.
His brain had no time to function - he just reacted. As soon as he realized she was crying, he wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace and just held her.
Or tried to. Perhaps no one had told Meggie her part in all this - she was supposed to let him comfort her, he thought almost crossly.
And just what were Meggie's activities during all of this? Well, Meggie, being herself, shrieked as loud as she could as soon as Daniel's very fingertips grazed her ragged clothing and yanked herself away from him, standing quickly as she backed away to the far side of the room.
"Get away from me, Daniel," she ordered unsteadily. She turned and yanked the window behind her open and climbed out, slamming it down behind her before quickly disappearing down the fire escape.
Daniel muttered a quick curse and quickly crossed to the window. She was gone. After over a week of worrying about her, waiting for her to come out of her apartment, she was just gone.
He'd have to wait. Wait for her to come back, wait for the answers she would have to give him. Surely she'd be back soon. Of course.
Stay tuned! More to come!
