Spring Angel

It was such an enormous park. Had to be two miles from end to end. Walking all the way through it was a hell of a job – in full costume and with thousands of Spring Fair participants milling around, it was next to impossible. But Gerry made it, waving to the people the whole way and daydreaming about the dirty martinis waiting for him when this shift was over.

Three children raced over as he got started, shouting his character's name - “Buddy! Buddy! Buddy!” And slammed full-speed right into his legs. Nearly knocked him over. He patted their heads with the paws over his hands, as the instructions for buddy told him to do. “His, little buddies.” His character's line.

No, no. If his trainer heard that, he would be in line for a chewing-out. “Hi, little buddies!” Almost screaming, but that was just about the only way to be heard through the big furry head. And pat, pat with the big furry gloves on their heads.

And sure enough, some of the little brats kicked him in the shins and stepped on hi toes and on and on.

Gerry bit his lip and managed to keep his mouth shut. The company frowned on breaking character, even when the lousy punks made you feel like pounding them into the ground. Three years work at this fair and the kids' behavior hadn't improved a lick. Bad enough to put up with the physical abuse, worse when you put on the outfit in the morning and realized that once again it hadn't been washed.

Hot days in a smelly mound of heavy cloth with twerps bruising the shit out of you. Christ.

Then he caught sight of a young mother holding a boy of about four by the hand approaching him. Her face was lovely, her light brown hair seemed to float in the wind, her long white dress did the same. Gerry fell in love on the spot.

As they approached, the boy shouted “Buddy!” and charged at him, throwing himself at Gerry's legs. The kid's weight nearly snapped Gerry's knee right in two and did knock him to the ground.

The thick fuzzy outfit did its job and Gerry found himself unkilled, but the back of his head did pound against the padding on the back of the outfit's head. His blood began to pound. The little mother...

He felt a tug on his arm, pulling him to a sitting position on the pavement. “Oh my God, I'm so sorry, are you okay, can you stand up?” It was the woman who had been holding the boy's hand.

Gerry got up without noticing. It was like he floated to his feet.

He so wanted to talk to this lady, but rules. No talking while in character, no removing the head when a civilian can see you. He settled for a thumbs-up.

She smiled at him until his heart stopped, then turned to the boy. “Lawrence, are you all right?”

The boy, looking at the ground with an embarrassed expression, nodded.

The woman knelt and scooped Lawrence into her arms. Gerry thought about those arms around him.

“Now, Lawrence,” she said, “we've talked about this. You're bigger and stronger than you think, so you need to control yourself. And I know you can.” She pulled back to look Lawrence in the eye and gave him her brilliant smile.

Lawrence still looked embarrassed. “Mmkay,” he muttered.

“Good boy,” the lady said. “Now tell Buddy you're sorry, okay?”

Lawrence wriggled out of her arms, walked over to Gerry – still looking solemn but determined – and said, looking up at him. “I'm sorry, Buddy. Do you still like me?”

I was about to pat his head with the thick glove, like we're supposed to do.

Not good enough. The kid felt bad, but he'd learned something. I got down on my knees and gave him a big warm Buddy hug. He buried himself in the thick soft outfit. Through the headpiece I thought I could hear him hum with contentment. It moved my heart.

Gerry, holding the child, looked at the woman. He'd never seen a mother like her before, correcting the boy gently. His own mom could have learned a thing or two from this lady.

He couldn't.

He stroked young Lawrence's head again, raised his arm and pointed to the cast gate where all the workers went. Pointed at his wrist and held up two fingers.

The lady smiled. It tugged his heart again. “Over there at two? Sure thing.”

Gerry thought he'd cry.

At 2:00, sweating from the heat of the day under the costume, bruised and tired from dealing with excitable kids, Gerry walked back to the cast gate. There was the woman. A breeze made her white dress and long hair float. Angel.

“Hi,” she said, smiling wide.

“Hi,” said Gerry. “Be right out.”

“Aww...” she pouted. “Can't I come in? I'd like to see what goes on behind the scenes.”

“Sorry, I'd get fired.”

She looked up, thinking. “Well, okay,” she said, “then you have to take off your head.”

Gerry stared at her.

“Otherwise I won't know who you are when you come back out here, silly.” She winked.

“Well...” Gerry looked around as best he could with the giant head on. “I'm not supposed to, but it doesn't look like anyone's around.” He grabbed the head and started to pull. “Just promise me that you won't run like hell when you see how sweaty I am.”

“I promise,” she laughed. “I've seen plenty of sweat when I'm babysitting Lawrence.”

Gerry paused. “Oh, I thought he was your son.”

“Nah, he's my nephew. My sister's kid.”

Gerry's heart lifted. “No kids?” He swallowed. Now for the nerve-wracking part. “Boyfriend?”

She smacked the shoulder of his costume. “If I had a boyfriend, would I be standing here right now?”

Oh. Wow. Gerry reached up and pulled the head off. Damp hair fell into his eyes.

The woman brushed his hair back. “Well, hello there,” she said. “I'm Angel.”

Of course she was. “I'm Gerry.”