The boy in the red down jacket did not come to class for the rest of the week, nor the week after that. March bled into April; I had not seen him in over a month, not even in passing. I wondered if he had dropped out.
I went to the Temple and scheduled an appointment for Wednesday at noon, which I figured would be an unpopular time. Alone in the annunciation chamber, I opened my eyes and saw the angel, towering yet contained, its alabaster wings folded like twin peaks. From its every pore exuded liquid light, but I was not blinded, not even by its eyes, which turned on me like headlights swimming in mist. It was a manifest miracle, but one to which I was accustomed.
I got down to business.
"Why are there earth-angels anyway?" I asked. "Why would God make them of woman if they were meant to be of Heaven?"
The angel spoke in a voice that seemed to come from all sides.
For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. They are without excuse.
I tried to hide my frustration.
"Okay. So everything God makes is perfect as it is. I get it. But what is perfect about a soul placed in the wrong body?"
Before I formed thee in the belly, I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.
I puffed out my cheeks.
"So it was intentional, then? It's not the wrong body after all? I've seen the pictures, okay—I've read what they've got to do to themselves to become angels, with the Tincture and the pain. Gutting and rewiring nature. That's not God's plan, is it?"
The angel swayed.
This is my comfort in my affliction, that your promise gives me life. The insolent utterly deride me, but I do not turn away from your law. It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes. Your hands have made and fashioned me; those who fear you shall see me and rejoice, because I have hoped in your word.
I lit a votive and stomped out of the Temple.
YOU ARE READING
Transfiguration
Short StoryA mysterious boy who never takes off his jacket. A temple where men talk directly to angels. An extremely boring college economics course. Curiosity gives way to confusion as our nameless, genderless narrator learns the reason behind their classmate...
