[ Read Part 1 here, Part 2 here ]
~ January 2012 ~
"Hello, Mr. Blue," says Penelope. Anson hasn't accepted the nickname but it's an appropriate title for he always wears navy blue from head to toe. When she first started calling him that, she had glanced at his biker boots and said, "Someday, I'll get a pair of boots like yours." A certain thrill had ran through him but he dismissed it. He doesn't try to remember all that she says but somehow her words stick in his head.
"Why aren't you up there with her?" says Penelope.
Anson keeps his eyes up at the five-story building. The falling rain blocks most of his view but he senses the lady's hesitation. Even after all these years, he is still unused to knowing what his charge is feeling and thinking. He lowers his eyes toward the ground.
"Oh! I get it! It's only after she suffers does she realize she wants to live. But isn't it cruel? What if she breaks more than a leg? But that's life, right?" Penelope's constant queries irks him and yet, he likes her curiosity.
"Quick, Mr. Blue! Move that truck so she can land on it! You can save her some suffering!" Penelope is waving her hands wildly between the truck and the falling lady.
Without thinking, Anson lifts a finger and swipes the air. The gray truck moves and she lands on the roof but the sound is drowned out by the rain. Anson appears on the roof of the truck. The lady's soul sits up from her body lying on her stomach. He taps her shoulder and her soul seeps back into her body. Just a fracture bone in her left leg and yet, for this one decision, she will pay for it in her future.
What have he done? A guardian's job is to keep the soul safe and not to interfere with their lives, not even to save them some suffering - this Anson reminds himself. He likes to believe every decision is judicious but is it? He looks up at the gray sky. What limitless pain humans give themselves. The danger isn't always outside but what's within. He looks back at Penelope. She is grinning up at him and waving two thumbs up. As he turns away from her, he notes she has grown taller in the past five years.
As he returns to the ground, Emanuela's voice speaks in his head. "Poor child. Sadly, it matters little where she lands. But you are to extend your guardianship for a bit longer but time matters little to us." Her voice fades away. Anson considers her words. Does time matters when you aren't living?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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