A Quiet Angel

“Happy anniversary, babe.” I caressed the top of the tombstone before I extended my fingers to stop the trail of water streaming down my eyes. Was it the tears or the rain that pelted all around me? I hardly cared about it or my black dress, now soiled. I knelt on the wet grass, edging closer to the grave to put the red roses. It was as if déjà vu greeted me. Two months ago, I was in this very spot- standing all alone, wailing on the loss of my hubby, thinking about the future that looked as bleak as the clouds above. Only the rains, God and my dead Ben knew I wasn’t over him. Not a single bit.

The overcoat I wore was Ben’s, still retained his scent, and I didn’t want to wash it away or let it go. Not yet. I planted a kiss on my fingers and rested them on his epitaph, on his name in bold. “I should have been with you that day in the car,” I said to myself, wiping my face with the back of the palms. “Oh babe, how could I reverse back the time, and tell you I loved you before you left that day.” I bit my lips, stood back up, and put up the umbrella. The weather in London was always gloomy, like my life. And after losing my job, I couldn’t see any path ahead of me.

I didn’t want to bother him with my job, so I silently watched the grave, hoping to feel his presence once again around me, but it seemed even he wasn’t there anymore.

Dejected, I walked back home, wailing at the now wet footpaths, the roads, and how the weather camouflaged my tears with rain droplets.

The wind howled and blew the umbrella away, but it didn’t dry my cheeks. I walked up to my porch, absently foraging for the keys in the overcoat when my eyes hovered at the orange leaf stuck in the inside of my elbow. Maybe the wind landed it up. I stretched my hand and shook it, and yet the leaf clung to it. And when I saw them flutter just a little, I screamed.

The inside wings had hues in red, black, and orange. And the black antennas now moved in my direction. It was a butterfly. Small and quiet and strange- with ragged wings resembling a dried maple leaf. And yet she was a magnificent creation. 

“Well, hello there!” I lifted my arm just a wee up, bringing her closer to my vision. “You seem wet, and tired like me.”

The butterfly moved her legs now. Maybe she was stuck in the wool overcoat.

“It’s alright!” I assured her, pulling her wings just a little so as not to hurt her. But she jumped from the overcoat to the lock dangling on the door, showing off her colourful wings. 

“So you want to come home?—” I put the key into the lock, trying my best to not shake the lock and turned the key. The unlocking sound made her fly right through the narrow opening of the door. “—Or not. I can definitely use some company.”

The butterfly hovered all over the living room, the dining room, and then the kitchen. I took off my overcoat, hung it on the hanger, flipped on the light switch and she now rested over the glowing light fixture. Her legs tapped on the glass, making the only noise that echoed in the house apart from my sloppy boots.

“Make yourself comfortable…” I paused, thinking of giving a name to her. But she was still a stranger to me. I shrugged and set up a kettle. The butterfly flew past the kettle and sat on the granite. The butterfly looked up, really looked up, and I glanced at her. She had big beautiful brown eyes- just like Ben. 

How unusual!

I broke the gaze and opened the tea box, put it into the kettle and when I peeked at the granite, she vanished. A few seconds later, the wings wagged below my ear. The crunching noise made me screech. My hands instinctively reached out to shoo her away. But she flew, only to come back and sit in the very same place. This time, she didn’t flutter.

I didn’t scamper her again. Maybe she liked me or my ear. But it was the familiar warmth that wanted me to keep her. Ben used to tickle me right below the ear with his beard, with his warm breath, and how it eventually led to making out and...

The kettle brewed. Its whistle brought me back to reality.

“Do you want a sip of this, butterfly?” I laughed to myself. That sounded so funny to my ears. I was so lonely that I was now talking to a butterfly. I wondered if these were the signs of getting paranoid.

I poured the tea into Ben’s cup. Mum said to donate and let go of his belongings. But I couldn’t. For three years, he was a part of me, and even if he wasn’t there, it was a way to keep him alive and to make him stay a little longer with me.

My hands rested on the edge of the cup, letting the warmth seep through me and remind me of my long talks with Ben. When my eyes opened, the butterfly glared at me, sitting on the rim of Ben’s cup. 

Great, just great.

“Hey! That’s mine!” I swatted my hand, feeling the sharp edge of her wings cutting through my fingers, but she didn’t move an inch. or flinched. Instead, her legs moved as if she was tasting it.

Noooo!

I glowered at her, but she hardly understood my emotions. Resigned, I stood on my toes and reached for my cup at the deep end of the shelf. And when I sat at the table, watching the butterfly still sipping from the cup. I couldn’t hold my temper.

“So you are planning to live here, butterfly?” I know I was impertinent, but this was crossing the line. She can share my things, but not Bens. But the butterfly wouldn’t understand. Would she? “Am sorry, but you are not fit to live in a house.”

She fluttered her wings.

“That’s settled then. Once the sun’s up, you are off your way.”

But that day, the sun didn’t rise back, nor she left my side. At night, she found me in the bedroom. I pouted at her, but she instead settled on Ben’s pillow and rested. Within a few moments, her wings relaxed. I knew she was tired and so was I. I reached out, caressing her wings just a little. But she didn’t move. She trusted me. 

I slammed the book shut and switched off the light. After two months, I was now having a company in the house. A stranger found a friend in me. My anger evaporated towards her, and I decided to keep her as long as she wanted to stay. I turned over, glanced at her, thought for a second, what I should call her. And then my mouth muttered, “You are my Angel.”

The next day when I woke up, Angel was nowhere near me. I jumped out of the bed and searched for the entire home.

“Angel? Angel!” my heart thrummed under my ribs and I cursed myself for letting her go. How could I be so insensitive?

Dejectedly, I cried, wiping my tears away as I sulked in my bathroom. Splashing face with water, when on the white tile, I saw the butterfly sipping the droplets.

“Angel! OMG! You scared the hell out of me!” At that moment, I realised she wanted water, and the closest was the bathroom. I smacked my head and reached for my hands to her. She, in a blink of an eye, landed on my knuckle. I took her to the kitchen and filled up the lid of the bottle with water. She immediately held the rim and her legs and antennas worked. 

After dinner, I searched for jobs online, but the species of Angel piqued my interest. I opened the next tab, hit google searches to find her breed. An hour later, I discovered, it was a comma butterfly. The only comma I knew were the oxford ones.

Angel flew to the screen, glancing at the images of her fellow family, but then her antennas pointed at the job tab.

“That’s what I am doing- searching for jobs. There are so many options and I don't know what to do.”

Angel glanced at me before hovering up and down the length of the laptop, before pointing at the company having a vacancy for an architect. It was exactly what I was looking out for. How did I miss that?

“You want me to apply here?” 

Her antenna stilled for only a second before her wings fluttered wide. A sign that I took for yes.

“Alrighty then!” I sent my CV to the company all the time angel hovered between the screen and my palms. 

For the first time that month, I washed the sheets, tossed the stale food in the bin, mopped the floor and prepared homemade food. Just like the times when Ben was there. This time, Angel swayed on my arm, my shoulder, my fingers, as if she contributed to the household work. 

Two weeks later, we went out to buy fresh fruits and veggies, and Angel played with my ear and with my hair before resting on my shoulder. A minute later, my phone rang. It was an interview call. 

I took her to the interview, and thankfully my interview went better than expected. I was worried about Angel; it was the first time I had kept her in my purse, but I kept the zip open. She behaved nicely, being quiet and loyal. And at home, when I went on preparing the food, she sat right on my arm. Despite shooing her, she never left my gaze. Not my arms or my fingers.

In just a brief span, I was laughing now, talking now, and looking forward to life. Angel not only became a friend but became my life's saviour. I shared everything with her, and she invaded my life, made a gigantic space in my heart with just a small size of her body. I vowed to never leave her side as well.

A week later, I woke up a call. Offering me a job as an assistant, with the exact salary I had asked for. I jumped with joy. Angel was my lucky charm. It was she who guided me to take that job. How I wished to thank her from the bottom of my heart, how to make her happy. But then Angel didn’t fly as usual.

I saw the first signs of worry. Angel wasn’t that active. She laid on the table, her wings slowly fluttered, her antennas touching my tip of the finger. Even though I nudged her

She didn’t move. The one friend, my solace, who found me and brought me out from my lowest point was now in her lowest time, and I couldn’t help her.

I googled for symptoms but then my gaze was fixed on the lifespan. 

It was one month.

She was breathing her last. First Ben, and now Angel. Both were leaving me once again. But this time, I didn’t let my past weigh me down. I couldn’t say I love you to my hubby, but I can say to Angel. Hopefully, it would reach my Ben in some way as well.

That night, I made her a bouquet she loved, bathe her, made her eat the soup. That night, she didn’t come to the bedroom and instead rested on the windowsill. I let her sit on the carpet of petals.

“Before you go…” my voice cracked. “I want to tell you, thank you for coming into my life, and changing me. Just like Ben did once. And now you. You found me at my worst and accepted me the way I was. And despite my anger, you stayed with me. You stole my heart, Angel.”

The tears that dried when Angel arrived were now back, and I sobbed. Angel nibbled the pad of my fingers, and for the second time that day, her earthy eyes never left my gaze, and suddenly it crossed my mind. How her actions resembled Ben. Picking up the same seat, helping me, sleeping right next to me and always having my back. 

“I knew it was you in Angel. How foolish I am to recognise.”

Angel‘s wings fluttered. It was Ben. He wasn’t gone but was back. Even if it was for a month. But he was back, like he always said before he left the house.

I caressed her now pale wings. “I will always love you!” Angel watched me until her legs crumbled into my palms.

That night I didn’t sleep, and Angel didn’t wake up the next day. I nudged her, but she was gone. Tears blurred my vision, but gave me hope for the future. Angel taught me to live again. And move on from the past, into the bright future.

I prepared a beautiful petal casket and with a fresh bouquet of red roses; I walked to Ben’s grave, pulled up a few bunches of grass and dug with my fingers through wet soil next to his grave. And then prayed for both of them.

“Thank you!” I caressed the now bare patch of land and then the grave. “Thank you for coming into my life and never leaving my side. You were an angel, came here to give me a lesson on living life to the fullest. And enjoying every bit of life, whatever that is left.”

I wiped my face with the back of my palms and smiled at them. Like the way I blew a kiss towards Ben, I did the same for Angel.

For the first time, I felt lighter, calmer. And when I turned my head to the sky, the sun gleamed with joy.