My Angel

My Angel

When I woke up I remembered two things: one, that I had an angel tied up in the basement and two, that I really did not care. I stared up at my bedroom ceiling as I tried to convince myself to get up.

Mornings were the worst part of the day. Not the waking up part, the getting out of bed part. My body insisted it needed at least another hour. A glance at my bedside clock told me I had already slept in two hours later than on a regular work day. Heaving a sigh because my to-do list would not wait forever, I sat up.

After swinging my legs out of bed my feet rested against the cool floor. Tiny tingles surged through the soles of my feet. When I stood the tingles hardened into sharp needles stabbing through my skin. Shifting my weight from foot to foot, the needles abated after a few moments.

Slowly, as if each of my movements were weighted down by a lead suit, I dressed and prepared for the day. When I checked my appearance in the mirror it looked normal enough. Clothes two sizes too big hung on a thin frame, the pants cinched tight using a belt which bore three extra holes to make it smaller. Long ago I gave up on make-up. Covering the dark blue-black circles under my eyes never fooled anyone. Short limp hair, so thin my white scalp could be seen, clung desperately to my head. Once again I considered saying to heck with it and shaving my head bare. But it was too much trouble. And I would have all that hair to clean up. Instead I pulled on a knitted cap to hide it.

Next I made my way to the kitchen where I forced myself to eat a whole bowl of cereal. If I expected to complete my to-do list I needed energy. Feeling bloated and a little dizzy, I had not finished a whole bowl in months, I needed to sit for a while. As I waited I ran through my list in my head. I ought to write it down otherwise I might forget something.

If I forget it then it must not have been that important, I reasoned. Plus I did not feel like searching for a pen. No matter how many pens I bought I could never find one. I firmly believed my junk drawer ate them. After eating my ballpoints it tended to regurgitate grocery receipts and pencils with broken points. Since I never bought pencils it seemed a reasonable deduction.

Although it appeared bright and sunny through the window I pulled on a sweater. Each day felt colder than the last. The weather had been crazy this spring. During the last thunderstorm no less than eight people had called to check up on me. As if a little thunder would knock my house down.

Today I had business to conduct at the bank, grocery store, food bank, and homeless shelter. Once checks were written and forms signed I could go home.

Home sweet home. At least for a little while longer. I made it back with ten minutes to spare. Hopefully my favorite television program would not have one of those cliff hanger endings. Normally I loved those but today it would not be appreciated. As I gathered my favorite quilt to snuggle up on the sofa I heard a loud banging from the basement.

Oh. Him.

Checking the time again I wondered how long he might keep me down there arguing. Nine minutes before my show. If I missed the introduction credits, which I hated to do, I could give him about twelve minutes. Maybe I would not have to miss much.

The top of the stairs to the basement were dark but a bright light illuminated the bottom half. I flipped on the stairwell light as I descended the steps. Soft carpeting muffled my footsteps. When I arrived almost silently in the basement I could see my prisoner from the back. Bare broad muscled shoulders thrashed from side to side. Black wings with a sheen like oil on water glinted as he tried to escape. Wild dark hair surrounded his head like a menacing thunderstorm. I felt a little disappointed no lightening sparked with his efforts. Weren't angels supposed to be able to throw lightening? Or was that Zeus?