“You can ‘do’ things?” I asked quickly. I was no longer so sleepy.
“What kind of things? Like miracles? Magic? Can you change things?” I rattled off questions rapid fire.
“Don’t get too excited. GA’s, if I may abbreviate, work in the background. Think of us as agents…like the CIA…we have powers but we have limits.”
“So,” I said. “No miracles. No magic. No changing the world…right? ”
“Right.” answered Fred.
I thought for a few moments and then hesitantly asked, “Can you make it possible for me to visit Heaven to see Iris and Rain? Just a short visit…or can they come down here?” Unwanted tears were forming in my eyes. I missed them so much.
“No, Tobey, I can’t do that.” Fred said softly and I sensed a comforting warmth on my arms that made me feel less sad. It was like a tender hug.
“Is that what you do? I asked.
“That is what we do mostly. But sometimes we add extraordinary amounts of a laxative to a very mean boy’s punch when he is treating one of our ‘people’ badly.”
“OMG!!!…like Albert Simmons, my creep date to the 11th grade Snow Dance?”
“Precisely.” said Fred.
“He never lived down the embarrassment of that night. He had to go to a different school for his senior year…someplace where he wasn’t called ‘Poopy.'” I smiled broadly and then yawned.
I finished off the Jim Beam, looked at my kitchen clock and saw that it was almost 3:30 a.m.
“I’m going to bed, Fred. I need to sleep.”
Imagine this, I thought…talking to my guardian angel at 3:30 in the morning just like I would talk to my cat Emma…or even a real, live person.
“Sure, I understand.” said Fred as he floated across the living room and down the hall.
I followed behind, turning off the lights as we went…so abnormally normal.