his angel

love trance

As quickly as that stream of moonlight appeared, it faded away. It was chased away by the shadows that slip into my room yet again. I was blind to everything again.

There was a bubbling hysteria in me, and it took my mind off of Lia. "Lia, my sister. Is she okay?"

A pool of light appeared on the wall beside me, and I realize it was showing me something. I saw Lia lying on the couch, exactly as I'd left her. "How did you-" My doubts began to melt despite my disbelief.

There was just too much happening.

"I go by guardian angel professionally but I've heard fairy godfather and that works too, I guess i if you prefer that," his reply was so nonchalant, you'd hardly believe he just showed off a pair of wings that just came out of his back.

But then I realize the real question at hand. "...you've actually been called fairy godfather?"

A few beats of silence pass as I try to shake the image from my mind, but I decide to play along with well, whatever you could label this situation with. "If you're my guardian angel, aren't you supposed to be omnipresent and not reveal yourself to me? You're not even following the clichés."

"It doesn't really work like that," he says, "it's more like when a person's at the lowest point of their life or need help, a guardian angel is sent their way to kind of provide comfort, set their life back on track, make sure they don't fall into a ditch or something. Typical stuff," after a moment, he adds, "I'm here to just listen your problems and help you. That's the point of the whole not-showing my face. It's to have that Freudian free association effect. And of course this isn't a cliché, it's real life."

"That's why you're not showing your face? I'm still getting some serious serial killer vibes though. Your Freudian excuse isn't really working too much for me."

"I'm not allowed to, as stated by Angel law and plus, my face is too amazing for human eyes."

I ignore his answer as I move on to my next question. "Also if you're an angel, why do you have a Greek accent?" I blurt aloud, and then it finally hits me what actually came out of my mouth.

I'll be now face-palming for the rest of my life. And wearing a hazmat suit for all the embarrassment that will follow me soon after.

"I don't know," he replies uninterestedly, taking a seat at my desk and putting his feet up to get comfortable.

"I don't know?? That's really your answer? How are you an angel by the way, Greek Salad?"

"By fate and the gods' will," he replies almost monotonously again like it's a mantra. "And, Greek Salad, really?"

"I decided Greek Salad sounds better. Suits you too," I say imitating his nonchalant tone and very matter-of-factly as I lie back against my headboard, feeling around for anything that could get me out of this.

Greek Salad chuckles and it sounds like chocolate melting and honey being poured. "I know you're looking for something to knock me out with, but you should know I already cleared your room out for any potential weapons. Not that any of them will affect me."

Even with all the bullshït coming out of his mouth, his voice could still impregnate an entire crowd of women.

"That's so- but- when did you even have the time to?"

I imagine he's shrugging like it's no big deal. Just took a sweep of my room and that's not creepy at all. f*****g great. "When I came in."

"Okay, where are the cameras? Did I just get pranked on national television? Show's over, you can start real life now. I actually prefer the shíttiness of real life." I'm desperate for some sign that this is one whole colossal joke or that I'm dreaming this disaster.

He sounds like he's telling me a hollow joke. "If the one who's playing the joke is the gods then sure, you're being 'pranked.'"

Even the gods know my life is a mess, apparently. They saw the loneliness I tried to hide by flooding my liver with alcohol and going to shitty parties? They saw the panic I was in from the mere prospect of the future? Of my life, my career? I was making myself anxious just thinking about all this.

"What a time to be alive," I mutter to myself. "What a fücking time to be alive."

Greek Salad doesn't hear because his next words are, "Before this Greek Salad name sticks permanently, my real name is Eros. You know, in case you decide to ditch Greek Salad."

"Like the god of love?" I say aloud like an afterthought.

His words are bright with a smirk. "Yes, like the god of love."

.

(tessa swaying those hips )

"So am I going to just sway my hips and fall into your love trance?"

"Sure," he pauses almost like he's uncomfortable and amused at the same time, "By all means, continue if that's what you want."

"Yeah, wouldn't you enjoy that?"

He clears his throat "So, Tessa Calvin, what ails you? What seems to be making your life horrible?"

He sounds like a Walmart version of Shakespeare.

"Sexists, racists, shitty people in general." Like I'd pour out my life story to this asshat.

"In addition to that," he presses on, as if he's trying to reach for my soul or something.

"Why don't you tell me, Greek Salad?"

His answer is reluctant. "This could take a while then."

"Are all angels dïcks like you? Or are you just special?" My mouth is running at a mile a minute to hide the inner turmoil raging on inside my mind. And I can't seem to stop.

The logical part of me doesn't want to believe that anything outside this world exists. But I also can't deny what I saw- a pair of wings popping out like weeds from Eros's back.

There's laughter in his words. "I like to think I'm special."

"If being dickish is being special, then sure you're special, sweetheart."

"Thanks for the reassurance."

"What can I say? I live to brighten d**k-faced guardian angels' days. My sole purpose in life."

"I thought being a notorious pessimist was your sole purpose in life."

"In a world that's notoriously shïtty, I can't be anything but a pessimist," I reply truthfully. There's nothing I believed in more.

"Optimism is born out of darkness, dear Tessa," he says almost as if he had been talking to himself.

"Optimism is for those who want to hide from reality; and reality is, life sucks. You can work hard and still not achieve your dreams. You can study from dawn to dusk, and still not get into your dream school. You can pray for years and still be stuck in the same goddamned place. It's fücking horrible but it's just the way life is. Sucks to be human. And thanks for coming to my TED talk."

"Motivational speaking is definitely not in your future," Greek Salad mutters but since he forgets we're the only ones in the room, it comes out quite loud.

"Look, Greek Salad, I'll pretend this never happened and you can return to heaven and find some other charity case to fix. So, Adios, goodbye, or whatever 'bye' is in Greek."

He sighs, like he's given up. He's not the only one. "Goodnight, Tessa."

And the sound of wings flapping is the last thing I remember.

•

Sorry for the super long wait...ACT studying is killing me and finding time to write is nearly impossible. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!