Angel's Decree

chappy 3

It was late as Monica and Andrew strolled along the pier together, mostly in a comfortable silence. Dinner was the same as they both ate and made small talk, her nibbling bits of bread and vegetable, him sipping water between bites of meat and potato. It was difficult to explain why things felt so strange and yet so familiar. After being with him for a longer period of time, Monica was now convinced that she knew him from before, but the sensation only served to frustrate her because she was positive she never met him before now.

“Are you cold?” he finally asked, taking her out of her reverie.

She looked at him and shook her head. “I’m fine.” Her dark eyes seemed so inquisitive to him, but she didn’t say much. Instead she smiled and spoke in small phrases. She seemed content just to be with him, but he wanted to know more about her, about where she came from, her likes and dislikes.

“It’s weird,” he finally broke the silence again. “I can’t remember much about my past before coming here. Maybe I woke up out of a coma or…” he shrugged. “.. I don’t know.” he turned hazel eyes on her. “What about you, Monica?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes, I feel like I’ve always been here. Sometimes… I don’t know…”

“I know what you mean.” he smiled.

“Sometimes,” she continued, “I don’t know what to think about anything. My roommates, my life, it’s all so sketchy – like everything just came into being.”

He felt a jolt up his spine at hearing her words. It was all so familiar. “I feel the same way.”

When he dropped her off in front of her apartment building, they stared at each other a long time before she extended her hand towards him, the night making her hair seem almost black as the wind played in it.

“Goodnight, Andrew.”

“Goodnight, Monica.” he said softly. “I had a good time.”

She could only nod as he turned and walked away, the moonlight at his back.

Inside his truck, Andrew sat for a few moments, thinking about her. It was nearly time for his night job, but he didn’t feel tired at all. He didn’t rest very well at night because sleeping came so difficult for him. His third shift job as an EMS technician kept him busy but somehow Andrew felt suited for it.

He saw a lot of sickness and death and he handled it all very well, and patients considered him to be a calming spirit. Old ladies reached up for him with their last bit of strength, children clinged to him as they lay frightened on a gurney, and others simply stared into his eyes as he held tight to their hands, a lifeline… or a death line. At any rate, Andrew tried not to let the really tough cases get to him, but occasionally they did. During those times, he’d spend the rest of the early morning hours alone, brooding inside his one room apartment, wondering what life was really all about.

Now that he met Monica, it felt like she was always in his life. Her sweet little smile, her voice, the way she spoke with her hands. She was slight and beautiful, and her hair was endless waves of dark red that he knew he could get lost in, drown in, if only he had the opportunity. But somehow, something was holding him back from it. He didn’t know how to proceed with her because he sensed it from her end too, but he did know that he didn’t want to miss one single chance to be near her again.

The next morning, Monica woke up late and was greeted by her roommates’ grinning faces.

“You were out late.” Caryn, smirked. “Let me guess. Andrew?”

Monica made a face as Jaime snorted. “So, did he stay over?”

Monica was too embarrassed to answer straight away. Instead she murmured a reserved, “Of course not.”

Caryn elbowed her. “Pig! Monica isn’t like you. She does have some morals.”

“Morals my ass.” Jaime, reached underneath her arm to scratch her hairy armpit. “She needs to get laid. Then maybe she won’t be such a stick in the mud.”

Ignoring Jaime, Caryn turned to Monica. “Did you have a good time.”

Monica nodded. “Yes. It was very nice. We went to dinner. Then we walked along the pier downtown. He’s a very nice man.”

Jaime huffed, brushing past the two women. “Good. Maybe you’ll marry him.”

As she exited, Monica followed her with her eyes. “Do you think she’s angry?”

“She’s always like that, Monica. You know how Jaime is. Last night, while you were having a wonderful date with a good and kind man, she was here arguing with one of her gay lovers about some missing dime bag.” Caryn shrugged a shoulder. “Same old stuff.”

“Is she alright?” Monica asked, her innocent tone surprising Caryn, not for the first time.

“Monica, didn’t you hear what I just said? Jaime is a loose canon. She has no place to go but down.”

The thought of that sent a pang through Monica so sharp that she felt herself welling up with emotion. “I should go talk to her.”

She stood outside the door to Jaime’s room and raised her hand to knock. She couldn’t explain the sense of guilt that she felt at having someone suffering right in front of her face and she could do nothing but watch and be a bystander. It felt unfair somehow. “Jaime, can I come in?”

“Go away, Monica.”

“I only want to talk. Please.”

There was a moments pause before the door opened a crack and Jaime glared out at Monica, her eyes icy and blue as an arctic snow drift. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Why not?”

Jaime rolled her eyes and sighed. “We got nothing to talk about.”

Monica lingered there, a small smile playing at her lips. “I think we could be friends, Jaime, if only you’d give it a chance.”

“No, why would a goodie two-shoes like you ever want to be friends with me?”

Monica shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because you have a good heart underneath it all. And maybe you’ve got a wee bit of a soft spot for me as well…”

Jaime blushed and averted her eyes. “Go away, Monica.”

“If you tell me why you’re angry with me, then we can talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk. Just go be with your new boyfriend, Andrew.” she slammed the door in Monica’s face as Monica simply stood there, stunned.

“But, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just… a nice plumber. A friend…”

Just then Caryn came past, yawning. “Give it up, Monica. She’s a lost cause. She’ll only bring you down.” She patted her on the back and hummed. “I’m going to bed. Nite.”

Monica nodded. “Goodnight.” Then she trudged off towards her own bed and fell into a deep sleep. As she tossed and turned, she found herself dreaming of an angel again, but this time it was a different angel, a man this time, on a tree limb and dressed in white. She couldn’t see his face, but he was majestic and yet so sad. Below him was the body of a fallen soul. Monica woke with a start, frightened of the dream, but she couldn’t resist the urge to paint him.

Her hand was driven by some unseen force, and she couldn’t stop until the painting was complete. At the same time she put the final strokes to the canvas, the sun was peeking up over the horizon. In the morning, she was so exhausted, she could barely remain standing. Her hair was wild about her head, thick reddish locks tangled about her shoulders.

When Caryn emerged from her bedroom, dressed and ready for work, she gaped at the painting. “Dang, that’s one hell of a print.” then at Monica. “Are you okay? Have you been at it all night?”

Monica could only nod. It was as if she’d lost her voice.

“Well, you better get some rest. Don’t forget to set the alarm.” she called over her shoulder as she went out the door.

Monica stood there in the middle of the room, feeling out of place. Painting always sent her to far off places, but this time, she didn’t know where she had gone to – or if she’d yet come back.

Jaime came out, dressed and wearing a frown. “Shit, you look like hell.”

Monica stared at her, her lips moving slowly. “I…”

Now Jaime looked closer at her. “Hey, um… you okay?”

When Monica stumbled forward, Jaime came and caught her. It was strange; Monica was like a feather weight, but Jaime felt nothing but concern as she hoisted her up and took her to her bedroom. All the ill feelings vanished in lieu of this moment as she lay her on her bed, on top of the comforter. She waited around to see if maybe she should call someone, but when Monica’s head hit the pillow, she curled up instantly and fell asleep - just like a little child.

It was evening by the time Monica woke up again, and she felt revitalized. The roomies were seated at the kitchen table, Caryn sipping tea, Jaime drinking a beer. Both of them looked happy to see her.

“God, we were worried sick about you.” Caryn gestured for Monica to sit with them.

“She was worried.” Jaime said, ever the tough guy. “And you overslept for work again.”

“Oh no.”

“I think your health is more important than that crappy job.” Caryn made a face at Jaime. “And your friend Andrew called. He’ll be over in a bit.”

Monica looked surprised. “He will?”

Jaime got up and trudged to her room. “Yeah. Now you can have him kiss it and make it all better.” the loud crash was the sound of her door slamming shut.

Monica looked confused as she whispered. “She hates me, doesn’t she?”

Caryn shook her head. “Nah. The opposite. She likes you so much she can’t even see straight.”

“Oh.” Monica smiled, her innocence clouding her reaction. “That’s nice.”

“I don’t mean as a friend, Monica.” Caryn tried to make her understand without being blunt. “You know Jaime likes… um… boys and girls.”

“Oh, well, that’s a good thing, right? God made everyone, so…”

“You don’t get it,” Caryn patted Monica’s shoulder as she headed towards the door, going to the club to meet friends, “but you will.”

Caryn smiled and said ‘hello’ as she passed Andrew in the hall. “She’s waiting for you.”

He nodded and then knocked on the door. When Monica answered, they stared at each other for a long moment before she moved aside to let him enter. He couldn’t get over how beautiful she was, even disheveled in an oversized shirt and sleep pants and with her hair so flyaway. She looked bohemian and somehow angelic at once. Her brown eyes glistened in the dim lighting.

“How are you?”

She smiled. “I’m fine.” she looked at him, into his hazel eyes. She had painted him earlier and hadn’t even realized it, but she wondered why she had imagined him as an angel. It was the oddest thing…

“You look well.” he said, resisting the urge to push a long lock of her hair out of her face. He thought it might be the silkiest thing he ever felt, then he hated himself for thinking of her this way. It felt, somehow, wrong to have these private thoughts.

“No, I’m such a mess. I’ve been sleeping at odd times. Then I wake up with the strangest dreams. I don’t understand it.”

“Maybe there should be a club for us.” he blurted it out. “For those of us with odd sleeping habits, I mean.”

“You too?” her eyes were wide.

He nodded. “Anyway, I didn’t want to barge in and then overstay my welcome. I just wanted to know if you wanted to go out again sometime. It doesn’t have to be dinner. It can be anything.”

“I like most things.” she smiled at him, then felt her cheeks warm. “Or… I should say… I like going out with you.”

His expression looked pleased. “Good. I have tickets to a show. A co-worker of mine had them and now he can’t go, so I thought…”

“A show sounds like fun.” Monica’s eyes lit up with wonder. “What kind of show?”

“Well, have you ever heard of The Countess?” his words turned liquid in her ears as he said them, and even though Monica knew she never heard of The Countess besides the day she stumbled upon the old theatre, she was also quite certain that she had heard of her. In fact, she would have bet her life on it.