Ryder's Angel

Chapter Nineteen: Years Go By: Danny

Chapter Nineteen: Years Go By: Danny

Ethan Daniel Ryder, born January fifth.

I loved my son very, very much. Ethan, that was the name Angeline and I gave to him. He was not only the product of our love, but of a grave mistake. If you trace it back from Kendall’s urge to save us, the brainwashed mutant’s shadow-knife with the power to give people the appearance of death – it was the humans’ fault. At first, I was furious, but who could feel furious when you look at that tiny pink face? I never thought I’d be thankful for the existence of humans, or my beloved angel.

The orphanage threw a big party, but neither three of us made an appearance. Everyone brought their own piece of congratulations, whether being advice or a slice of cake. And Kendall’s smile was brightest in that little hospital room where we stayed.

But Ang and I shared the same thought: could life get any better?

Who knew, it did.

*

The months went by fast. It seemed only yesterday Ethan was born.

He had my black hair, only it was curly like Angeline’s, and Ang’s big green eyes. His skin was rough like mine, but light like hers. He cried often, but when Ang sang him to sleep – as an angel does – it was as if he was under a spell. The first word he learned, at age one and a half, was “No.” Second: “Momma,” and third was “Daddy.”

We quickly learned over the first year that he loved jigsaw puzzles and knocking down blocks that we gave him; he hated when no one was holding him; and he always slept on his right side. But most of the time he was curled up between Ang and I in the bed at night. All three of us slept better when we were together. But Ethan loved his mother just a little better than his father, for she spent longer time with him. I didn’t mind, for I loved both of them no matter what.

Ethan also thought it was funny when he snuck out of our room, out the open door, when we weren’t looking. Twice he was found sticking his hand in the toilet, giggling.

Each person got their own piece of my son; however, whether it was holding him, showing him their tricks, or making him giggle, Ethan won everyone’s hearts. No one could resist him. Kayla was constantly making him laugh and clap his hands when she turned invisible, and he loved it when I morphed into a puppy for him. He would squeeze me in his arms until Angeline stood in front of him, flex her wings, and tap his shoulder with her wing from behind.

Of course, everything wasn’t all that great. There were the smelly diapers, the throw up, the shrill crying in the middle of the night, etcetera, etcetera…

Besides having the time of our lives with Ethan, Angeline and I were getting restless. We were both tired of the orphanage, no matter how good it was for awhile. We missed the fresh air, the freedom, being just with family. We both preferred leaves or open sky to a brick roof. We felt so claustrophobic here, despite the fact we were protected from anything. We wanted to explore, and there wasn’t much here. If we were to leave, we would go as fast as we could out of the city. I found myself sometimes watching outside: the cars going by slow because there were so many, the hundreds of people that go by, not taking so much as a glance for the abandoned bookstore that really was a powerhouse of powerful mutants. There were tons of buildings – some so high they seemed to go past the clouds. But they sky looked unhealthy – not very blue, it was always grey, with an almost visible sheet of smoke from the buildings. It was very dreary to me, for I didn’t like the city; I liked forests and our tree house. But we couldn’t go to the forests. We couldn’t leave at all because of Ethan. He was only a year and a half. We would be here, at the Hawthorne Orphanage for Mutants, for at least five more years.