Angels

My head rests upon the soft cushion of her breasts, every beat of her heart counting a precious moment we have together. Her fingers caress my back, barely brushing my skin as she runs them up and down my spine. I run my hand up her arm, following the smooth curve of her shoulder. I grip her tightly with my fingers. She makes no sound of complaint as my fingers dig into her delicate flesh. I don’t want to let go of my angel.

I look up into her face. I know every feature of her symmetrical face; the soulful hazel eyes, the full lips, all framed by her soft auburn hair, but that is not the face I see. Before me is the face of a cadaver. Pale, sallow flesh, flaking from the bone, lifeless eyes sunken into the skull, thin dry lips pulled back exposing rotting teeth, clumps of the once beautiful hair lie upon the pillow…

With an anguished cry, my eyes fly open and I sit bolt upright in my bed. My breath comes in short ragged grasps, my heart beat sounds like thunder, my stomach feels tightly twisted into a knot and the bile starts to rise.

I throw the covers to the floor and hurry through into the bathroom. I reach the toilet just as I begin to throw up. It feels like I’m leaning over the toilet for an eternity, tears streaming down my face, mixing with my vomit in the toilet bowl.

When the heaving finally subsides, I fumble upwards and flush the toilet. At the sink I wash my face, rinse my mouth out before cleaning my teeth. I look at my reflection in the mirror. My skin seems pale and there are dark rings around my eyes.

Without looking at a clock, I know it is the early hours of the morning, but there is no chance of me getting anymore sleep. I know every time I try to close my eyes that ghastly vision will infect my mind. So I step into the shower, letting the powerful stream of steaming water massage my body, wiping away the last vestiges of sleep and wishing it could wash away the recollections of my nightmare. I towel myself dry and dress for the day ahead. The first thing I put on, as I do every morning, is a delicate gold chain on which hangs a platinum ring set with a heart shaped ruby, within a cluster of small diamonds.

With a mug of tea, I stand looking out of my apartment’s window onto the city below. Night still lays across the city, but there are the first signs of life returning to the streets. The occasional car glides past, returning home after a night shift or maybe heading to an early start. Trucks rumble by, on their way to deliver the essentials that keep the city moving.

Today is full of ritual for me. It has begun much as I expected with my nightmare. With a fresh mug of tea and a couple of slices of toast, I sit myself in one of the easy chairs in the lounge. I will always think of it as my angel’s chair. The toast is barely buttered, as butterflies continue to flutter about in my stomach. I pick up the book I had laid on the arm of the chair last night, The Wizard of Oz. It was one of her favourites.

The sun rises, flooding my apartment with its warm light. There are still several hours before I have to be at work, but today I have an important task to do before then. I slip on the jacket to my suit, pick up my old, worn work bag and the bouquet of a dozen red roses. I can’t help but inhale their rich, sweet fragrance, bringing back memories of better, happier times. A time when I could deliver my gifts into my angel’s hands.

By the time I reach the street, the sun has been hidden behind leaden clouds, the air is heavy with the threat of rain. Even this early, I have little difficulty hailing a taxi. After giving the driver my destination, I settle back into the seat and my thoughts.

The cab passes through the filling city streets, but I barely notice the building traffic. Only the cabbie announcing we’ve arrived at my destination, brings me back to reality. I pay him and climb out of the cab. Right on cue, a gentle rain begins falling as my gaze trails to the cemetery gates. The heavy, black iron gates with their interwoven vines already stand open. A weather worn angel, the stone strained with rust and lichen stands upon either side, backs to one another their wing tips touching to form an arch.

I follow a familiar path through the cemetery, while the rain continues to patter down softly, it’s cool and gives a scent of freshness to the air. I enjoy the feel of the rain falling upon my face, so I don’t bother rooting in my bag for my umbrella. I know it won’t be long before my tears will mingle with the rainwater upon my face. I prefer to come to the cemetery early in the morning, its quiet, apart from the chatting of the bird, granting the privacy I desire.

I stop before a black granite headstone. Atop its graceful arch, stands an angel, her wings spread protectively over the monument. Unconsciously, my fingers seek the engagement ring I gave my angel that now hangs from the chain about my neck. My eyes look down to the gold lettering of the inscription, slowly I read the elegant script, even though every word is forever engrave in my mind…

Tears stream down my face as I read these words several times to ensure I never forget them, not that I ever could. Bending down, I carefully place the bouquet of red roses at the base of the headstone, beneath the inscription. Amanda always loved red roses. Reaching into my bag, I carefully pull out a package; a small pink teddy bear, wrapped in a clear cellophane bag, tied with a pink bow, which I place by the roses. On the card tied to it I have simply written…

I stay at the grave side for some time, dredging up memories of the time me and my angel, Amanda had together. Quietly I talk, as if she is here with me, reminiscing about all the happy times, the fun and the pleasure. I feel her with me, standing behind me. For a moment, I am sure I feel her fingers lightly rest upon my shoulder, then gripping me as if to tell me everything will be alright. I’m tempted to turn, but my eyes remain fixed upon the headstone.

In the decade since Amanda was cruelly taken from me…us, it has felt as if my life was devoid of joy. The few friends who I’ve remained in contact with, say I have changed; that I rarely smile and they never hear me laugh anymore. The only time I’m happy now is when I think about Amanda.

I kiss my finger tips and put them to the lips of the angel upon the top of the gravestone. Tears flowing anew, in a soft, trembling voice, I say “Sleep well, my love. I’ll come visit you again next year. I promise”. Maybe things won’t hurt so much then…although I have been telling myself that for the last ten years. I walk slowly back through the cemetery, the rain eases to a stop.

I start walking back to the heart of the city and towards work. I have only gone a short distance, when I manage to hail a taxi. I have the driver drop me at a café a short way from the office, where I stop in for a cup of tea. Normally I would have breakfast, but today my stomach still hasn’t settled. I exchange pleasantries with the owner before heading on.

Most of the day passes me by in a blur; small talk with colleagues, barely remembered conversations about business and the lunch time discussions about sports, politics and news stories. I get a phone call during the morning, one that I expected. A woman’s voice greets me, sounding sad and weary “Hello, Robert.”

A half smile creeps onto my face “Hello, Sue.” I answer. Sue is the last link I have to my angel; she’s Amanda’s mother. For the last ten years, we’ve supported one another, trying to move on from our loss.

“I see you’ve already visited my baby’s grave.” I hear a sob, down the phone Sue failed to hide. We always try to be strong for one another, but we don’t always succeed.

“Yeah, I went before I started work.”

A quiet chuckle comes over the phone “As usual, Robert. You must never sleep the night before…?” Sue’s voice is edged with concern.

“No…not very well anyway…” My voice trails off as visions of my nightmare fill my mind. I have never told anyone about my nightmares, especially not Sue.

“Well,” She continues “I was just calling to make sure you were coming to dinner tonight. I’ll be cooking Amanda’s favourite.”

I smile, recalling happier times; the three of us eating dinner together, Sue fussing after us in her motherly way. “Of course I’ll be there. I should be with you between six-thirty and seven. I’ll be sure to pick up some wine.”

As I leave the building at the end of the day. I notice a small group of co-workers, clustered nearby. I know several by sight, only one by name, a secretary named Jess; a brunette in her early twenties, maybe a little plain but always friendly and cheerful. Being a Friday night they are probably heading off for a drink. I’m about to head on to the local store, when a cheerful greeting is called out to Jess. I glance round to see a petite, young woman rushing over. A broad smile stretches across her pretty face as she approaches the group, her short blond hair seems to bounce with a life of its own as she approaches the group with an energetic bound in her step. For a moment, I find myself captivated by the attractive young woman. Then, with a shake of my head I head on to the store.

At the store, I’m particularly pleased to find a bottle of Amanda’s favourite wine. I also buy some flowers for Sue, as I always do when we meet each year. This year I select a dozen roses which are a delicate shade of pink fading to white in the centre and have a wonderfully sweet scent.

The taxi drive to the suburbs where Sue lives is slowed by the evening traffic, but I still arrive only just after six-thirty. From the sidewalk I look over the house, noting the fresh coat of paint it’s received since last year. A row of rose trees have been planted in the flower beds on either side of the path. Each is dotted with vibrant red blooms that nod in the slight breeze. As I walk between them I am enveloped by their rich, heady fragrance.

I ring the doorbell and hear it chime somewhere inside. The door is opened almost immediately by a short woman of sixty, her greying hair fixed in a neat bun, her hazel eyes have long lost the shine they had when we first met, now they are tired and weary. She’s neatly but plainly dressed in a cream blouse and black slacks. We embrace, without exchanging a word. We both have a lot to say, but for now words are unnecessary.

Easing out of my arms, she looks up at me, a small smile comes to her lips and her hand softly touches my cheek “You look well, Robert.”

“Thank you, and you look as lovely as ever, Sue”

“Thank you. Well, come in.” I step into her home, which is clean and well organised. The smell of meat, cooking in a rich, tomato sauce assails my nose.

“I managed to find this.” I say holding out the wine.

Sue’s face brightens as she recognises the label on the bottle. “Amanda always love this wine. She loved its fruity, vibrant flavour.”

“And these are for you.” I say passing the bouquet to Sue.

“They’re beautiful. Such a wonderful colour.” Inhaling their scent, she sighs “Oh, and what a lovely fragrance. Thank you, Robert.” She hugs me again. “I’ll go sort these out, you make yourself comfortable. There’s still some of that whiskey you like in the cabinet.”

Sue disappears into the kitchen, while I wander through to the lounge and head straight to the drinks cabinet. I find the whiskey; Sue keeps it for my annual visit and I pour myself a large measure. Then I get Sue a glass of brandy, setting it on the table beside her easy chair. I lower myself onto the sofa, shrugging off my jacket and loosen my tie. Briefly my fingers wander to the ring hanging upon its delicate chain.

Sue comes in, spotting the brandy she smiles “You’re always so thoughtful Robert” She says “That’s one of the things Amanda always said she loved most about you.” For a moment she looks thoughtful and distant, as if she’s recalling an old memory. There’s a lot of that going on today.

We touch our glasses together and I take a sip of my whiskey, I saviour the flavour as the fiery, amber liquid slips down my throat. We start talking about what we’ve been doing since we last saw each other. The normal sort of small talk, of friends who haven’t seen each other for a while. I talk about work and my sister, my only family. Sue tells me about trips she has taken with friends and what she’s done in the garden. I mention the rose trees she has planted and how Amanda would have loved them.

Over dinner we continue to talk but our conversation turns to Amanda. We start reminiscing about happier times when my angel blessed us with her wit and charm. Sue often mentions Amanda’s childhood and her time at university. We both laugh as I remember being terrified the first time I met Sue. Birthdays, Christmases and holidays spent together all full of joy and happiness. We laugh and smile together, but always there is that sadness that the one who gifted us with all these memories is now gone.

As we clear things away; I insist on helping despite Sue’s protests, the stories continue to flow. Then, I fix us both a drink and take my accustomed seat on the sofa. Sue surprises me by sitting down next to me rather than in her easy chair. For the first time one of us has broken the rituals of the day. I wonder at this change, but say nothing. It is soon forgotten as we begin once more to talk of Amanda. Frequently my eyes drift up to a series of photographs that decorate the wall. They are all of my angel, Amanda from when she was just a baby cradled in her mother’s arms to a beautiful woman encircled by the arms of her lover, me. This last photo always brings a lump to my throat.

As the night draws to a close and I’m thinking it’s about time for me to call a taxi, Sue unexpectedly places her hand upon mine. “Robert…” She says softly “…every year when we meet you tell me the same things. Works good, your sister’s fine…you never tell me anything different. You always sound so sad and lonely. Don’t you ever go on holiday, go out or look for a girlfriend…?”

Sue has caught me by surprise, she has never spoken to me about these things before. Her sudden concern for me leaves me unable to find my voice.

Maybe she realises I don’t know what to say or maybe she has rehearsed this speech, ready for when I arrived today. “I know you’re a wonderful, caring man; my baby wouldn’t have loved you the way she did otherwise.” She smiles and squeezes my hand. “You have always been so thoughtful and such a gentleman towards me. You’re handsome…any woman would be lucky to have you, so why do you insist on being alone?”

“My heart still belongs to Amanda.” My voice trembles with emotion. “How can I love another woman?”

“Do you think this is how Amanda would have wanted you to live your life?” She says sternly. “My baby would want you to live! For yourself and for her! She would understand you finding a new love. She would never forgive you if you spent the rest of your life sad and lonely.”

I stare, wide-eyed at Sue. The words sting me to my core. My throat seems tight and dry leaving me unable to speak. Amanda would always be in my heart, but I know her mother’s words are right. Amanda was full of life and energy, she had an infectious, adventurous spirit that was impossible to resist.

“Robert…” Sue says softly, breaking into my thoughts “…please…for me…for Amanda…for yourself…go out…meet people…do things…just don’t waste your life. Please.”

I wonder what has suddenly brought on Sue’s concern. True, she has watched out for my wellbeing before, but never like this, never so openly. My eyes search her face, her brow furrowed with worry, her lips pressed together with determination. Finally, softly I say “I’ll think about what you’ve said. I promise.”

Sue’s face brightens and she seems to relax, releasing the pressure on my hand. She smiles “Don’t just think about it…do it!”

“Okay” I reply.

Without missing a beat, Sue starts talking about her plans for the coming year; travelling with friends, more changes to the garden, doing some charity work…. I listen thinking about my plans. Well, I don’t have any, since losing my angel I’ve just lived one day at a time.

The time comes for me to leave. With my taxi waiting, Sue walks with me to the door, we embrace, Sue seems to hold on to me a little longer than usual, or it might be my imagination. She steps back, placing a hand on my chest, her fingers touch the ring I wear about my neck, the engagement ring I gave Amanda. She smiles. “I have something for you.”

She chuckles at my look of surprise. She hands me a neatly wrapped parcel. The paper is pale pink, with white angels decorating it. A dark red ribbon binds it together. Seeing my uncertainty about accepting this gift, she places it in my hand, wrapping my fingers round it.

“I found the courage to go through my baby’s things this year.” I hear the emotion in her voice. Sue had struggled as much as me to come to terms with her daughter’s death. It took her five years just to go into Amanda’s room. Before she had just stood in the doorway, unable to go any further.

“I know she wanted you to have this.” I hear her take a deep breath “Please don’t open it until you get home…Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And please, Robert, think about what I said.” A broad smile comes to Sue’s lips as a thought occurs to her. “When you’ve found yourself a nice girl, I’ll want to meet her.”

I hug Sue once more “Sure.”

We say our goodbyes, I kiss Sue on the cheek and walk to the waiting cab.

By the time I get home it’s close to midnight. I drop my work bag just inside the door. Going to my desk I carefully put down the package I have kept safely in hand for my entire journey home. Going through to the bedroom, I hang up my jacket and take off my tie and shoes. With a freshly brewed cup of tea I return to my desk and ease myself into the chair. I feel nervous, excited and maybe a little scared as my fingertips touch the gift…

Peace

Fixxgiggle