Free Until Angels Close My Eyes by Lurlene McDaniel

over to networktelevision. Crowds of people were partying in Times Square. Leah found a bottle of sparkling grape juice in the refrigerator. Neil and her mom often liked wine with their dinner, but with Neil’s chemo he couldn’t drink alcohol, so her mother sometimes served the bubbly grape juice instead. Now Leah filled two of her mother’s good wineglasses for her and Ethan.
    “Watch, watch!” she said as the great, glowing ball began to descend and the crowd began the countdown.
    “They all seem very happy,” Ethan observed.
    “The start of every year means starting fresh. People like that.”
    “I am starting fresh, too.”
    The ball hit the bottom, an orchestra played “Auld Lang Syne,” and Leah clicked her glass to Ethan’s. “Here’s to us.”
    He sipped the juice while gazing at her over the rim of the glass. “Now what?”
    On TV people were hugging and kissing. “We’re supposed to kiss for good luck. And wish each other Happy New Year.”
    He set his glass down and pulled her into his arms. “Happy New Year, Leah.”
    “Happy New Year to you,” she whispered as their lips touched.
    “This is a good custom among you English,” he said.
    His wording jarred her.
You English.
For a while she had forgotten their differences. She warned herself not to forget again. “Well, back to our movie.” Her hand was shaking as she clicked the remote. She settled into the heap of pillows and blankets still strewn in front of the fireplace.
    “Maybe we should go to our beds. The electricity has warmed the house.”
    “Maybe later,” she said stubbornly, not wanting their time of togetherness to end. “We’ll watch some more films—we’ve got a bunch more.” She gestured toward the stack on the floor.
    “We would have to stay awake all night.”
    “So what? We can sleep all day tomorrow.”
    “Sleep through the day?” He sounded scandalized.
    “Okay—half the day. At least until you need another feeding.”
    He laughed. “It is different not to havecows to feed, chores that must be done. I’m not used to this.”
    “We have goldfish,” she said. “Want to get up at five in the morning and feed them?”
    “No,” he said, stretching back against the pillows. “I want to watch movies all night with you. It is a brand-new year, is it not? We can begin it however we please.”
    Leah had faced the start of other years before, but never had she felt that one could hold so much potential for happiness along with so much room for tragedy. The possibilities whirled in her head. Would her cancer remain in remission? Would Neil win his battle for good health? Would Ethan love her enough to stay in her world? She chased away the list of questions and punched the Play button.
    Leah woke with a start. Electronic snow filled the TV screen. It was daylight, but the day looked cloudy, the skies dreary. Beside her Ethan was on his stomach, fast asleep. Groggily she reached for the remote and clicked off the VCR. What time was it anyway?
    She heard a noise. With a start, she realized it was a key in the front door. “Oh,
no!”
This wasn’t the way she wanted to be found. “Ethan! Wake up!” Leah shook his shoulder.
    “Leah! Honey, we’re home,” she heard her mother call. “Where are you?”
    “Hurry!” Leah urged Ethan.
    Leah scrambled up. Ethan rose beside her just as Leah’s mother and Neil came into the room.
    Her mother stopped dead in her tracks. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes swept over the pillows and blankets in front of the fireplace. Her gaze halted on Ethan. For a stunned moment, no one spoke. Finally, in her frostiest tone, her mother said, “Just what is going on here, young lady? I want an explanation, and I want it now.”

T WELVE

    “I —I can explain,” Leah stammered.
    “I’ll just bet,” her mother snapped.
    Neil stepped forward. He looked shocked, as if Leah had struck him. His look cut her deeply. She’d rather have done anything than upset Neil. “Is this