Angel's Decree

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chap 4


Monica woke the next morning to the sound of Jaime and Caryn arguing. Through the walls, she could hear broken accusations and fragmented swear words clashing like titans.

She felt too weary to intervene, but it also felt wrong to do nothing. She took her time getting out of bed, prolonging it as long as possible. She went to her dresser and picked up her brush and began dragging it through her long hair, brushing away the tangles. She wondered what they could possibly be arguing about. For weeks, it had been pretty peaceful around the apartment, but Monica had also noted a bit of tension, as of late. Jaime was increasingly edgy and Caryn stayed out a lot more lately. Monica only knew when she was home by the sound of her singing coming through the bathroom walls.

Finally, she emerged from her bedroom and walked into the center of the conflict, a brave soldier, and was instantly attacked.

“Monica!” Jaime screamed, “I know you and Caryn are like a little clique, and I know she’s been stealing my stuff! Admit it!”

Caryn made a face like someone in pain. “Jaime, leave Monica out of this. You just want a reason to blame her.”

“Blame me?” Monica looked perplexed. “For what?”

“Just for being you,” Caryn said, a note of suggestion in her voice.

“Just shut up!” Jaime shouted, her eyes like daggers of ice. “Both of you just shut up!”

“Why don’t you say what’s really on your mind?” Caryn glared at Jaime.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Jaime dragged a hand through her disheveled blond mop.

“Tell her you love her.”

“Caryn, I’m warning you…”

Monica chanced a look at Jaime. “Love…”

“Yes, Monica.” Caryn glared at Monica, fed up with her innocence, at the end of her rope. “She loves you. Not as a sister. She wants you. She wants you like a man wants a woman. You get it now?”

Jaime’s face slowly began to fill with color as her eyes filled with water. “I fucking hate you, Caryn.” she whispered it as she turned away from them and grabbed her coat off the hook near the door.

“Where you going?” Caryn asked, concerned.

“To buy a lock for my room – since you can’t keep your hands off my things!” and she slammed the door on her way out leaving Monica stunned and Caryn regretful.

“I’m sorry, Monica.” she said in a soft voice. “I am such a…”

“Is it true? What you said about Jaime?” Monica’s face was warm as well, from embarrassment and worry and so many other emotions she couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

Caryn nodded. “You saw how she reacted. She’s had a crush on you for weeks.”

“I don’t understand… I mean…” Monica shrugged. “I don’t know anything.”

Caryn sat down at the kitchen table. “You know, I don’t get it. Sometimes, its like you’re not even from this planet, Monica. You’re so clueless… or so innocent. And the way you’re always so selfless and so helpful and caring. I never met anyone like you. It’s like you’re some kind of…”

Monica looked at her, her dark eyes expectant. “Like I’m some kind of…”

Caryn brushed the thought out of her head. “Nothing. Forget it.” she pushed a few of her dreadlocks out of her face and forced herself to look Monica in the eye. “Anyway, as long as we’re sharing, I should tell you the truth. I… I took Jaime’s jewelry.”

“Caryn, no…” Monica felt hurt by the admission.

“See, I needed to pay some loan sharks…”

“You mean, you’re gambling again?”

Caryn shook her head. “No, it’s not like that.” She frowned. “Okay, I might have… put a few dollars down on a greyhound or two. Nothing big, though…”

“Caryn, you have to stop.”

“I know, Monica. And I plan to get Jaime’s stuff back. I thought she wouldn’t miss a few little trinkets, but…”

“But they weren’t yours to take.” Monica sighed softly.

Caryn nodded. “And now you hate me.”

Monica placed her warm hand over Caryn’s and smiled. “I could never hate you. In fact, I think you’re my only friend – and I’ll help you however I need to.”

Caryn nodded but looked embarrassed because she knew she had failed Monica, but she planned to make things right again.

Later, after both roommates were out of the house, Monica got ready and walked to work. She didn’t know what to think about Jaime or Caryn right now. It felt like the two of them were turning the world upside down. Nothing was the way she understood it to be. Then again, maybe she was being insufferable because she didn’t understand how it was supposed to be in the first place. According to Caryn, this was nothing strange, but it all felt so foreign to Monica.

At work, she tried to apologize to her edgy boss who was already at the end of his rope with her for having missed two days of work in a week. Then again, he couldn’t stay angry at her for very long. He simply told her to try and be there for her shift or he’d have to give her job away to some else who actually needed it. Truthfully, he didn’t want to fire her because he liked having her there. She was a calming spirit to have around and she was a talented artist, loved by all the customers and other employees alike. What she lacked in job performance, she more than made up for in disposition.

Near the end of her shift, she had gotten back into the swing of things and nearly didn’t notice when a familiar face showed up and stood at her counter.

“Hello, angel face.” he said in his pleasant voice, and Monica turned and smiled at him.

“Andrew.” she caught his eye and pushed a loose lock of her hair behind her ear. “What brings you here?”

He shrugged. “Coffee, I guess. I hear its all the rage.”

Monica tried to appear nonchalant. “It’s a wee bit good, yes.”

“Only a wee bit?” he grinned at her. “Maybe I should try a cappuccino?”

“Alright.” she said it in a soft voice. She felt warmth spreading from her face outward. His tone of voice did that to her, a sort of flirty, chivalry. Only Andrew could pull the two off at once.

He took a seat at a little table in the corner while she went and got his order. When she returned, he took the hot mug into his hands and looked up at her expectantly.

“Will you join me?”

She shook her head. “I can’t, but I will be done in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll wait for you, then.” he looked down at the foamy top of his beverage. “In the meantime, I’ll figure out how to attack this.”

Monica smirked at him. “It’s not a dragon, Andrew. Just take a sip.”

His hazel eyes glittered, but he obeyed, and when he did, he brought his face back up and smiled, the foam having formed a thin white mustache above his lip. Monica covered her mouth so he wouldn’t see the small smile on her lips. She didn’t want him to think she was having a laugh at his expense. The truth was, he was so charming, she couldn’t help but be fond of him.

When she clocked out, the two of them walked outside together, her hands at her sides, his shoved in his jean pockets. The wind played in his blond hair, and she tried not to notice how lovely he always looked, how clean and how wholesome. She wondered what he did when he wasn’t at work, what he did for fun.

“What do you like to do, Andrew?” she asked, tying her hair back with a white ribbon.

He shrugged. “I like to talk to you.”

“Besides talking to me.”

“I don’t know. I like to read a lot. It’s kind of strange, but I like to read biographies. I like reading about people’s real lives, about how they lived and why they did the things they did. Sometimes, I feel like I knew them…”

Monica nodded, intrigued. “I’m looking forward to the concert.”

“Me too.” he looked down at the sidewalk as they walked. He liked to concentrate on the sound of her voice, the melody of it. Her accent was beautiful to him, but not only that - she just had such a pure, kind spirit; it made him want to be a better man.

“Do you know anything about The Countess?”

Andrew thought for a moment about what he had been told and about what he felt. He had heard of her, but like Monica, he was positive he should know more about this Countess. Something just drew him to her. “She sings a kind of nondescript jazz. It’s very bluesy and old school.” he considered it. “I think there may be elements of gospel as well. I’m not sure.”

Monica nodded. “Do you know anything about her personally?” she didn’t know why she was so desperate to know more about the Countess. It just seemed urgent, somehow.

Andrew said he didn’t, but inside he felt that he did. He felt that he knew little details like that the Countess didn’t drive often, but when she did, it was a large red Cadillac and that she was a formidable woman of faith and she didn’t take any nonsense from anyone. He felt that he knew these things, but he didn’t mention any of it to Monica for fear of sounding odd. Especially considering that he never even met the Countess. Instead, he mentioned something about having overheard that she was a big art collector, which was true actually because it was in one of her small bios.

As they walked together, the two found themselves venturing out through the park. It was dark here at night and mostly secluded except for the occasional young couple, hugged up on a park bench or snuggled under a tree. Monica averted her eyes as did Andrew. As attracted to each other as they were, they also were determined not to lose themselves to it. Monica felt so close to him that it made her want to resist all the more. Anything that felt this wonderful couldn’t be right. She had learned that too many earthly pleasures were probably bad or would lead to trouble, so it came as a surprise when Andrew reached for her hand.

She stopped and looked at him. “Andrew, I…”

“I know what you’re going to say.” he interrupted. “And if you truly don’t want to then… I understand. But keep in mind, Monica, that it’s just a hand.”

She laughed softly at herself for being so foolish. He was right, after all; it was just a hand, and he only wanted to hold it, not elope with it.

He reached for it, slowly, thinking she might change her mind or run screaming into the night, as far away from him as possible. But she stood her ground. She let him take her hand, let his fingers link with hers. The sharp intake of breath she heard was her own.

“Are you alright?” he whispered and she nodded, not trusting herself with words. This new feeling was gritty, raw. Her heart thumped inside her chest, a mallet banging a drum. It was only a hand, so why did it feel so good?

Andrew, for his part, was doing well, considering he thought he might die if he had to let go of her, her tiny little hand that felt so right inside his own. He shivered, and she felt it, inquisitive brown eyes focusing on him.

“Are you cold?”

He shook his head, “No. Not anymore.”

And they walked on in comfortable silence, each with their own private thoughts.

By the time the night began to close in on morning, Andrew started walking Monica back towards her apartment building, but she was hesitant. She didn’t really want to go back to the turbulent climate brewing inside the apartment. She didn’t want to go back and deal with Caryn’s sad guilty brown eyes or the destructive force that was Jaime. The thought of facing them tonight was making her stomach turn knots. Andrew must have noticed her reluctance because he stopped and looked at her.

“What is it?”

She shook her head, unwilling to burden him with this. “Nothing.”

He exhaled and looked into her face, so troubled and yet still so lovely, always so lovely. “You know, Monica, when I’m having trouble dealing with things, I try to talk it over with a friend.”

She made a face. “My troubles are about my friends…well… roommates.”

“Then, you should bring it to God.” he studied her face for a reaction. They had never spoken about faith before, but it felt like neutral ground to him. Something about her seemed open to it.

“Well, I have prayed before, but I don’t know if I really know how to talk to God.” she whispered. “What would I say?”

“You just say what’s in your heart. Tell him what’s on your mind. Ask him for advice.” he looked down, feeling like he was maybe being preachy. “I do it all the time.”

“You do?” when he nodded, she continued. “But you seem so well rounded, Andrew. I can’t imagine you needing much advice about anything.”

“Well, I need plenty of advice. Especially lately.”

“Oh yeah?” her eyes were glittering with mischief and curiosity. “Tell me.”

He shook his head, the tips of his ears warming. “No. I shouldn’t.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” she tugged his sleeve, prodding him. “C’mon, Andrew.”

“Okay then,” he paused, his throat tightening with caution, “it about you.”

She looked at him, curious. “What about me?”

He shrugged, terrified to say anymore, afraid of pushing her away but desperate to tell her how he felt. “It’s just that… I think… I may be falling in love with you…”