Angélique

 

 

 

Italy November 27, 2001, was marked by a cloudy and melancholic atmosphere. As the bell rang, it sent a wave of ecstasy through the students as they rushed towards the glass door. Among them was me. I learned neither her name nor her voice until today, before then I  only saw her art which was often on display in the halls of the school. I learned her name today, Angélique. Her art had always been displayed as I mentioned, never had I known her name, only her initials were printed on the paintings and beautiful gothic architectural designs, each castle long lines of jet black and colorless contrasting to herself. I love beauty, nothing ever spoke to me, not my mother’s death, nor any poems as it did with beauty. The thing with beauty is when it gets too complicated it can get ugly, that’s why I prefer it simple. I enjoy seeing beautiful people but not getting to know them. I don’t see myself as beautiful, I’m 5,8 and have layered hair or a short wolf cut with hair covering my left eye, and a plain face. I’m blind in one eye because of eye trauma with a screwdriver. I stop my mind from wandering any further and vault my thoughts to a white room with a simple bulb, I imagine them getting stored away into files.   Class ended abruptly today. 

“Maybe I should talk to her,” I thought to myself. “Hello Im Dante, I’ve always loved your artwork I’ve been looking for you for so long, would you like to walk home together?’’ I spoke, politely.

“Oh hello, you can call me Angel. I’m delighted and honored” She smiled stupidly the whole time she spoke. We end up walking home. After more talking, we reached my restaurant.

 “Dante, come help me with the shop” my father calls out.

 “ Okay I got to go help my father, would you like to come inside?” I ask to be polite before going to assist my father. 

“Alright!” she says excitedly. We head inside. My father is talking to some customers, one with long straight black hair and bangs and another who appears to be her husband with medium black hair and sharp eyes. He looks tired.” Mum, Dad, what are you doing here?” Angel calls out. No wonder they were her parents, they had similar features as well. The woman looks shocked for a second and then returns to herself. 

“Ah Angel, Darling you’ve discovered our surprise! We were just buying pizza for you!” the woman began quickly.

“Huh? But your lactose intolerant “Angel began. 

“Ahaha… What are you talking about Angel?” Angel’s mom quickly spoke. “Uh, angel… Ah, your clothes! Why are you dressing like a ghost? Let’s get you home and changed” the lady said while quickly grabbing her hand and leaving with her husband. That was odd..

“Dante, I don’t want you hanging around that girl.. Her parents seemed suspicious; they were asking me all sorts of weird questions” my father said.

“I see,” I say. I get why my father felt that way, they were not fooling anyone but I don’t intend to see that girl anyway. A week had passed since then and Angélique frequently clinged on to me. I wanted nothing more than her to leave me alone. I had shown no interest in anything other than her art but I was truly foolish to have made the mistake I had avoided in the first place. The thing with beauty is when it gets too complicated it can get ugly.  The bell just rang as a signal for lunch, I headed out and grabbed my lunch to find a place to sit and notice Angélique. She looks like she’s crying. I don’t want anyone disturbing my silence. I head over anyway. Something unlike me. 

“I-I don’t have much time to live. I’M GONNA DIE, maybe I should just kill myself so I don’t have to suffer.” she sobbed. 

“Are you crazy?!” It was the first time I raised my voice after my mother left.

 “I should just die. I know that I was bothering you, I just wanted to pretend I had a friend… I-im gonna die?! I’m gonna die! I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die” she says. The tears in her eyes shine as bright as a star, her eyes are beautiful. I want to drown in them. I felt something I hadn’t felt since my mother died. I felt myself tear up and I was 9 all over  again. I took her into my arms and embraced her as she cried. It felt strange but I felt at peace. I headed home that day later than usual. I got home from our small pizza shop in our narrow street lined with many trees with orange leaves. I head inside to find my father alone in distress by the small burgundy table with scattered cards, the shop closed early. 

“ Dante..why did you come so late..someone took our recipe book!” My father spoke as if he would cry.

” what. Let me help you look around” I say as we get up searching through the drawers. I still can’t stop thinking about Angélique. Father falls to the floor and breaks down. I go to check the security cameras and see. Bianca? But why would she steal recipes? Rush out of the kitchen and out the door, and look around to see a figure running. I ran towards her and she started running too.

 “ Stop or I’ll call the police!” I scream out. I quickly steal and borrow a random flower bike and ride it through the bustling streets. I grab a rolling pin and throw it at her face. She falls to the ground unconscious. I grab rope from the bike and bring her back to the restaurant and tie her to a chair. 

“Son, what are you doing?!” my father asks, shocked. I explained how I saw her through the security cameras and grabbed the recipe book from her pocket.

 “ THAT WRETCHED WOMAN!” my father screamed. I grab a bucket of water and put water on her to wake her up. 

“I’m going easy on you because you’re Angel’s mother but we can file a hefty lawsuit against you,” I tell her hoping I sound threatening. 

“I did this all for Angel!” she screams. She explains how she did everything to pay for her daughter’s treatments and a cure. 

“She can’t be cured…she has stage IV cancer and it’s already spread to her lungs..” I speak almost a whisper. 

“N-NO.. No, no, no, no! My baby my baby…” Angel’s mother cries. 

“ I think Angel would rather have her mother be with her rather than die in jail for her last days..” I say in a whisper. 

”I’m sorry… I’m sorry to you and your father… Please let me go, I’ll give you anything I am able of.” she begs. I agree as long as she doesn’t mess with anything.

 

 2 weeks later me and angel decided to go exploring around our town and I knew a spot. It was an abandoned church, it looked just like her paintings. We started talking, and talking until we reached the conversation, My mother. “My Father used to be in the mafia. We were constantly at risk according to my mother. They started arguing.., a lot. One day she left, without a word. Later we found out she was murdered..” my voice slowly trails off.

“Oh my god… I’m so sorry..” she seems sadder than me.

“It’s alright. I’m alright. Thanks to you. Thank you.”I say. I’m truly grateful for her.

“ I love you.” She speaks slowly.

“What??” I turn my head around. Is she going crazy? 

“When I die.. I want you to have my paintings, all of them, and make a museum.” she speaks as though she accepted it.

“I promise..”  It hurts saying that because i’m acknowledging she’s leaving… forever and it hurts so much. Though I want to give her peace that she has everything settled before she … leaves

We sat there for a while. Felt the wind on our skin sitting on a hill outside of an abandoned church. 

“I love you too” I say back. She doesn’t move, just looks at me and smiles then hands me her necklace.

December 3rd, 2001 Angelique died…I’ve only truly loved or cared about a few things in my life : my father, her paintings, myself, mother. I learned a lot, I never truly understood her art because I never truly knew her, she was complicated but that’s what made her beautiful. I took many things in life granted her, mother.  I have a twisted way of thinking. I’m a horrible person. 

I love you, mother, angel, father, me