Angel Love

The sun seems ready to resign for the day, the wind singing a lullaby with its dimming light. Maree stares at the horizon as dusk takes over the day. A huge sigh escaped her chest, and she closes her eyes to escape her surroundings. People walk past her, going about their business as if she isn’t there. It’s nothing new to Maree- to be ignored. To not exist on anybody’s axis. She hears their laughter and their exciting conversations. It’s Friday, and it’s Christmas Eve after all. Even the chilly winter cloaks San Francisco with a joyous embrace. But all the merry-making is lost to Maree. She just finished her part-time work at Sugar N’ Spice and is glad to be out of the busy store. Her manager asked her to put in extra hours, but poor Mrs. Turner is waiting for her. It takes a ten-minute bus ride to get to Mrs. Turner’s house, but Maree decides to take the half-hour walk. She likes to walk because it saves her money and gives her time to ponder about her sorry life. Slowly, she makes her way as she builds a bubble around her, protecting her from the gleeful outside world. Maree has no memory of any Christmas where she’s happy. Her mother was always too drunk and high to make anything special of the occasion. After she left her when she was nine, her memory revolves around jumping from one foster home to another. Her foster siblings were horrible and made her life more miserable than it already is. Christmas is a dismal season for Maree. She chooses to ignore it rather than hate it though. As the world goes crazy about buying gifts and baking sugar cookies, she works herself to oblivion. For someone like her, there is no room to sit by the fireplace while drinking hot cocoa with a fragrant tree all lit up with gifts at its foot. In the elevator of Mrs. Turner’s building, Maree fidgets because she has an innate dislike of it, of any closed spaces. Why does Celeste have to live on the thirtieth floor? A question she always ends up asking every time she comes to quell her anxiety. She stares at the two sides of the metal door panning slowly to meet each other to close the elevator. But with just a two-inch gap, the movement stops. A set of fingers slides between the doors. Another luxury in life that Maree doesn’t indulge in- is gawking at handsome men, especially one with jet-black hair, curled on top of his well-chiseled jaw. The dark gray eyes nestled under the thick brows. With nose slightly crooked and a full pair of lips. But now she does. It might be because she has no choice about being enclosed in a small space. He towers over her by about five inches, but he looks much taller than her five-nine. Someone perfectly created him so that Maree can’t fight the urge to examine him. “Breathe,” he says in a low voice. The first few seconds, his words didn't register to Maree. She hears him but it sounds distant. “Breathe.” He repeats. This time Maree realizes she is shamelessly staring at him with her mouth slightly open. Painfully, she takes her eyes off him and purses her lips together. “It helps to take slow, deep breaths,” he adds. His eyes meet hers for the first time and a smile spread across his face. Maree’s knees suddenly feel weak. He must have these encounters often that he knows when women can’t breathe because of him. It’s kind of arrogant in ordinary circumstances. But he isn’t ordinary, and he seems to know it full well. “I don’t like elevators either,” he says. The smile doesn’t leave his face, only it got wider. He put his hands in his pockets and turn to face forward. But Maree feels his eyes on her. “Uh, right,” Maree finally mumbles a response. “Thank you.” She wants to hit herself on the head or something for acting like an i***t. The best she can do is to give a tiny smile and nail her eyes on the floor, staring at her worn-out white Converse shoes. Seconds drag between them. Maree keeps praying that the door will finally open and one of them can leave. Then she can start breathing again. Maybe. Her prayers are granted and the elevator dings. She looks up, and it’s her floor. In her mind, she has turned herself into a tiny ball of nothing and slips out of the elevator as soon as the door opens. She wants to look back at the man for the last time, but she decides not to dare it. Throughout her life, she has faced lots of humiliation and, after a while, she has gotten used to it. But now, all her practice and callousness go out the window. “Merry Christmas!” She hears him behind her. She looks back, but the elevator is on its up. Gathering herself, Maree takes a few deep breaths with eyes closed. She doesn’t have time to have a crush on some guy, especially someone who is clearly out of her league. With much effort, she shakes off the thoughts about the stranger and takes out the key to Mrs. Turner’s condominium. Maree breathes in the smell of old money she likes after two years of working for Mrs. Turner. She locks the door behind her and places her bag on the beautiful mahogany console in the hallway. “Maree, is that you?” a feeble voice calls out and Maree smiles. She knows the eighty-year-old lady looks forward to the nights Maree comes as much as she does. “Yes, it’s me!” she answers happily as she enters the extravagant living room. Expensive vases and paintings everywhere. The furniture looks like they are transported from when people lived in castles and mansions at least one hundred years ago. But among the all the beautiful things in the house, Celeste tops them all. She sits in one of the Victorian chairs facing the glass window. Even as the day ends, she looks pristine, not a strand out of place in her coiffed gray hair. To her best, she sits with a straight back and her chin tilted up. Celeste told her that she came from a Romanian royal family and, by blood, a princess. But her father decided to leave Romania and bring their family to live in the States a long time ago. Sometimes, Maree tries to envision the old lady in her younger years in an elaborate gown and a sparkling tiara. The vision always brings a smile to her face. Their hands meet, and Maree gives Celeste a hug. As Celeste hugs her back, Maree marvels as the warmth embraces her body. She has no memory of another human being embracing her, much less the one that Celeste gives her. “How are you feeling today?” she asks as they let each other go. Maree looks at her face and her beautiful deep blue eyes. There’s always that layer of sadness that makes her own heart ache. “Nothing out of the usual,” she answers. That’s a lie, Maree tells herself and she has a good idea why the sweet old lady is sadder tonight. They have planned to decorate the tree that now stands in the corner of the living room. It took Maree hours to make the space for it and even that looks less festive now. Last week, she also went to shop for sweets and candies. Alberta, the cook, made meals that are ready to put in the oven for Christmas day. And her daughter, Julie, cleaned the house up to the last dust. Celeste was happily married until three years ago, when Mr. Turner passed away. They have three children- Sonya, Clara and Matthew. They are all too busy to visit their remaining parent. But when December came, Celeste excitedly told Maree that her children and five grandchildren were coming for Christmas. The joy on the old lady’s face was priceless. Judging from her hidden pain, Maree surmises Celeste received a last-minute cancellation. She hurt for her and wishes that she can make it better for her. Of all people, Maree understands the true meaning of being alone and lonely. That’s all she ever knows. But she doesn’t miss something she never had. Celeste seems to have had everything- a beautiful family, a happy marriage and lots of money. But now, she is alone in a big house. “Would you like to eat pizza and watch movies with me tonight?” Maree’s plans for Christmas consist of two catering jobs in Palo Alto, one in the morning and one at night. After that she planned to get a quarter pounder from Mc Donald’s and go home to eat and sleep. The salary from those two jobs will make up for her rent and some groceries for the next two weeks. What is not part of her plan is this- eating pizza and watching Elf. But she looks at Celeste laughing and everything is worth it. She will figure out how to make the money later. “Do you want to go out tomorrow?” she asks Celeste. Celeste’s face lights up but doesn’t respond. Maree works for Celeste twice a week. Tuesday mornings for a couple of hours to take her to do errands or any doctor’s appointment she may have. Friday nights is checking what she needs for the following week and coordinating with Alberta and Julie. If Maree has free hours, she comes in to check on her for free. “Where are we going?” Celeste asks. “Anywhere, we can go to the wharf or the bridge,” Maree suggests, because she knows those places will be alive with people. And Celeste loves being among other people. “I would love that.”