"Mercedes, what's wrong with you tonight? Why can't you just loosen up and try to have some fun?" "I'm sorry, Marissa," I sighed as I turned and spoke to my best friend. "I'm just so upset about what those guys said earlier." "Mercedes! You have to forget dweebs like Chad Dupayne and Britt Bowman. Just because they don't realize a great person when they see one doesn't mean all guys are that way!" Marissa countered. Then my other friend Angel turned to me and began her lecture. "You shouldn't let those turkeys get you down. After all, it's a Friday night, we're all single, and we're on the prowl!" she laughed. I couldn't help but smile again. My two best friends in the whole world never failed to cheer me up a little. "You're right," I said, "I shouldn't let those jerks spoil my fun." "That's right! You need a more positive outlook on the situation!" Marissa said as she thumped me companionably on the back. "Hey, I got an idea," she said, a mischevious look on her face. "Yeah, and I bet it's not a good one," Angel cracked. "Hey! I've had some good ideas in the past!" Marissa protested. "Yeah, and all of them were in the far past." "Would you shut up a minute! I say we go over to Booster's, that new teen club over in town." "Hey, Mercedes," Angel said, laughing, "for once she's got a decent idea. That sort of thing only happens once in a blue moon. What do you say? Should we take advantage of it while it lasts?" I actually laughed out loud at that one. Nothing cheered me up faster than to hear my best friends argue over something. "Sure. It sounds like fun," I said, and let them lead me toward the door. It still kinda bothered me, thinking I had seen that guy, but after glancing around, I decided he had just been a figment of my imagination. The way he stared at me...it was almost creepy. But I was still thinking about him even as I was caught up in the music and conversation at Booster's.
Looking around, I realize just how much things have changed. It seems like only a matter of hours since I died and went to be judged, but I guess those hours to me were years on Earth. I learned the hard way that time moves fast, and while your time stops, it doesn't for everyone else. It's really hard to keep track of time when you're dead, I guess. Listening to Mercedes, however, I thought I knew just what I would have to do. I just have to help her realize that she has self value, and that she's not worthless. So I guess I'll have to follow my instincts. They've always helped me before! I followed the trio to the club they had been talking about. The music was horrible! Whatever happened to great bands like Jefferson Starship and Simply Red? The music the kids listen to today is like garbage, amplified a thousand times. I mean, I was only 18 when I died, but now I can understand why my mother yelled at me! In spite of my discomfort, I could tell the girls were having a good time. I kind of liked Marissa and Angel. They were nice, and had infectious personalities, never letting Mercedes stay down for a minute. Mer, as her friends called her, even lost some of her constant sadness as she was caught up in the music and companionship of her friends. She looked so mature. She looked close to my own age, to be exact. I found myself wondering about her, as I watched her and listened to her friends' conversation. She seemed so lively, so full of life. It reminded me of my current state and made me sad to think that I may never see my friends and family again. Then I thought of something Jesus had told me. He had said she had tried to take her life before. I watched her closely to see any of the tell-tale signs or scars. She was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, yet when she rested her chin upon her hand, the edge of her sleeve rose up on her arm a little, allowing me to see the livid pink scar encircling her small wrist like a bracelet. I watched her self-conciously pull down her sleeve, after looking around to see if anyone had noticed. I was glad I was still invisible from her view. I watched her other arm, and sure enough, there was a matching scar around her other wrist. I wondered just what had happend to her to make her want to take her own life, soemthing so infinitely precious. I guess you just get more philosophical when you're dead. I followed my new charge home before I decided I would reveal myself to her. I just wanted to make sure she got home safe. I came in through the door with her, flinching when the door missed my face by a scant inch before remembering it wouldn't have hurt me. She stopped by a small door set into the staircase, opened it, and hung her coat on a hanger inside and shut the door. She yelled, "Mom, Dad, I'm home!" and then proceeded to jog up the stairs. I followed, and listened to her parents greet her and ask her if she had a good time. "It was okay. We first went to Cammy's to eat and hung out for a while, then we went over to Booster's. Then I came home," she said. "What's Booster's dear?" her mom asked. "It's that new teen club over on Broadway, Mom. No one over 21 can get in. It's a non-alcoholic club where kids can go and have a good time without getting drunk." she answered. "It's about time they did something for you kids. How was it, sweetie?" "It wasn't too bad. Marissa said we might go again sometime, if you guys didn't care," she said, leaning against the doorframe of her parent's room. "Well, of course it'll be all right," her father said. "You need to get out more, spend time with your friends. You stay at home entirely too much for a girl your age." She yawned loudly before answering. "But I'll always have my music to keep me company. Well, Mom, Dad, I'm awfully tired. I guess I'll just go to bed." She turned to leave, and her dad said, "I worry about you being home by yourself so much, sweetheart. I know you like to play your clarinet, but the music is so sad. You never play anything fun or happy. You need to be out, having fun. You're 17 for goodness's sake, not 70!" "We'll see," she said, and called goodnight over her shoulder. Then she went into her room, closed the door behind her, and started crying. I watched Mercedes go into her room, but I couldn't resist peeking. I told myself that I was just going to see if she was all right. I found her changing, sobbing as she undressed. I felt a pang in my heart for her tears but I felt a stirring in my soul as I watched. She had a body straight from a Playboy magazine. I couldn't see any reason why guys found her unappealing. I sure did. As I stood starin at her while she was disrobing, I realized that this would probably be frowned on by those above. So I quickly left the room while she finished changing, but the image of her golden skin and flawless body was burned indelibly on my mind. I waited until I thought she might be finished putting on her pajamas, and found myself praying that she didn't sleep in the nude. I don't know what would have happened if she had. But she was safely clothed, crouched in a huddle on her bed, weeping softly. I had to fight an overwhelming urge to go to her, hold her, and dry her tears. Just to touch her would have been a taste of heaven. I shook my head to clear it and tried to concentrate on my mission. I walked close to her bed, then made myself appear before her. Softly, I called her name. She looked up, frightened, her tear-streaked face flushed. I thought I had never seen anything more beautiful. That's when I knew I was in trouble.
I looked up from my pillow and saw him standing there. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his faded blue jeans. He was tall, about 6'2" or so. His was absolutly gorgeous. His eyes were like pools of the Caribbean sea, a warm and deep blue. Those same eyes regarded me with such an intensity that he frightened me. He seemed so familiar, but at first I couldn't place him. Then I realized where I had seen him before, at Cammy's, standing in front of the door, gazing at me with the same intense stare he was now. He wore a green flannel shirt striped with dark green threads the same color of his eyes. His blonde hair was slightly long on top, to form a kind of spikey style that suited him. He was well-built, but not too muscular. When he called my name, it was like a sweet love song. His voice was low-pitched, but with a gentle cadence that made it pleasant and musical. But what was really scary was the fact that I had seen a waitress walk right through him. When I remembered this, I crouched back against my headboard and asked him in a trembling voice, "Who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want?" "Hello, Mercedes. Don't be afraid, I'm here to help. I won't hurt you. Right now I just want to know why you're crying." His voice was low and soothing, and it quieted me. He walked around to the side of the bed, and wiped the tears from my face with absolute tenderness. There was such gentleness and kindness in that touch that it almost instantly calmed my fears; I knew he wouldn't hurt me from the moment he touched me. I could have sworn I was dreaming. He sat down on my bed. I heard the mattress springs creak under his weight as he sat down and took my hand in his. "My name's Barry. You could say I've been sent to help you. Someone thinks you're very special and sent me to help you with your problems. Tell me why you're crying." I took a deep breath before answering, unsure of myself. I always cry myself to sleep. I just get so depressed when I'm alone. I just start thinking of my past, and how I'm treated everyday, and it just . . .closes in on me." I lowered my head, waiting to be scoffed at or made fun of. "I'm not going to make fun of you, Mercedes." A gentle hand lifted up my chin. His warm blue eyes regarded my with curiosity. "Do you want me to make fun of you?" he asked, a half smile curling up the right side of his face. It took me a second to understand he was teasing me. I smiled back, and hurridly wiped my face. I was feeling better already. "How did you get here? When I saw you earlier at Cammy's, I could have sworn that I saw a waitress walk right through you!" I laughed when I thought of how stupid I was, to think that I'd seen him vanish like a ghost. It never occured to me to wonder why he was here, or how he knew who I was. It also never occured to me to ask what a strange boy was doing in my bedroom, or how he got in. It was just enough, I guess, to know then that he was so kind, and so different from other guys I knew. "Well, Mercedes, you were right. You did see that waitress walk right through me. Look, only you can see or hear me. God saw that you were having some tough times and sent me to help you. I guess you could say that I'm your Guardian angel."
I rached forward quickly to catch her when she fainted. I hadn't expected her to
take it quite that way. But then again, I reasoned, I would probably act in a similar
fashion had I been told that by a total stranger. But I felt I had accomplished a
small victory. For a while at least, I had stopped her tears. I held her in my arms,
cherishing the feel of her and the smell of her hair. Her head rested beneath my chin
and she lay against me, sound asleep. I really couldn't blame her. She's had a hard
day. I stayed up all night, holding her safe. Since I was dead, I had no need of
sleep, yet I closed my eyes and let my thoughts run their course. It was almost dawn
when I left her side. I kissed her forehead softly, and made myself invisible to wait
for her to wake up.
Click here for Part III
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