The memory of your angel has long since faded from your mind. God doesn't want you alive, you're a degradation to society. The only reason he hasn't killed you himself is that he doesn't want you in heaven either. So you can do it yourself. No big deal. But then you find out you are pregnant again. Perfect timing, huh? Just what the world needs, another kid to grow up into another you.

So right then things change. Looking back on your life you can see that moment, holding the test in your hand, remembering the finality of that decision in your mind. Your kid was not going to become you. Your kid was not going to live like this. You could do better for him. You would do better.

And yeah, working at McDonald's sucked. But it paid, and money could get you a place to live. Which, you know, you desperately needed. You find a crappy room to rent in some old lady's house; she wasn't real happy to have you but she needed the money. Seems like everyone needed money from you, including the guys who stopped you on the street one night and took everything you had, money, buss pass, everything. You couldn't pay your rent that month but it didn't matter, she was kicking you out when your baby was born anyway. It's a miracle those guys were only interested in your money or you might've lost your second child.

You don't understand it, but God must have wanted something different for you. Maybe it just took you realizing that for it to happen. Not only did he give you one angel (which you promptly forgot), he gave you another angel. This angel was handsome, and he seemed kind. He said he was in the hospital looking for someone, but he didn't know who. He said God sent him. But you don't trust people. You don't trust him. Sure, you'll accept his money and his help . . . for your baby's sake. If he wants to pay the medical bills, let him. You think you know what he wants. Don't all men want only one thing?

And yet . . .he seems different. He is never cruel or harsh to you. Even in his generosity he is never condescending, never patronizing. He loves your baby, your Noah. He is polite to you, helpful. But he knows you don't trust him and he acts instead as a sort of father to your baby. God knows Noah will need one.

One day he buys you lunch, brings it by the restaurant you are now waitressing at. It's not an ideal job, long hours, rude customers, exhaustion and tired feet . . .but it pays enough to support you and Noah, just barely. You just hate the food you can now get for free. Which is unfortunate, you could save so much money. So he brings you lunch, he and Noah. Noah's three now, and the most adorable bundle of energy ever. You all walk to the park on your break. You think, Is this what it's like for normal people? Do they take walks together with their families, have picnics in the park, and forget about their troubles? You want that, you decide. You are so sick of your life, as hard as you try to get into better circumstances it seems impossible. Except on days like this. And right then, you start to trust him a little more.