The Angel and devil of SwiftMart

Lena met the angel in the frozen food aisle of the SwiftMart at the intersection of Three Pines Road and Glenspring Lane. She had walked in briskly to escape the August heat and didn’t grab a basket, she had only planned to purchase a couple of items. As she and the woman stood side by side under the wavering fluorescent lights, Lena remained oblivious, her mind elsewhere. Lena’s phone rang, and she hastily tucked a bag of trail mix under her chin and a sleeve of gum under her left armpit as she rummaged through her purse to retrieve it. Loose change, an opened tin of mints and her worn leather wallet tumbled out and skittered across the pale-yellow tile floor. Lena only noticed the angel beside her when the woman handed her the wallet that had slid just out of her reach. 

Their fingertips brushed and a wave of icy shock rippled throughout her body, sending Lena into a cold sweat. Lena regarded the woman in front of her. Her first thought was that the woman was beautiful, but that thought gave way to fear as she realized she could not discern any facial features other than the woman’s eyes; all she saw was light, the most beautiful iridescent light she had ever seen. Her heart pounding and hands shaking, she willed herself to meet the woman’s pitch-black eyes and then trembled under her piercing gaze, compassionate yet devoid of warmth. Lena stumbled back as an aura of waxing light surrounded the woman and a deep silence flooded the world around her. The woman’s voice floated from everywhere and nowhere at once, melodious and piercing, and Lena covered the hollow of her throat in trepidation.

“You’re carrying so much, aren’t you?”

Lena opened her mouth to respond but the words clung to her throat, dry and stuffed as an unopened bag of cotton balls. She glanced down at the floor, willing herself away from this beautiful, horrible being and when she looked up, the woman was gone. Lena stood in front of the ice cream for minutes, tears pooling in her eyes, mind blank. That was an angel, she told herself, both sure of her conclusion and befuddled as to why now, why her, and better yet, to what end? Rolling her head clockwise and then counter-clockwise, she brought herself back to the here and now and checked her phone for the missed call. It was Chris, likely preparing dinner and seeing when she would be getting in. She decided to return his call in the car and reached into the freezer for a pint of Rocky Road, his favorite.

Approaching the cash register, she spotted Doreen and cursed herself. It had already been a long day and neither she, nor Chris, needed the snacks. She should have just pumped her gas, paid at the pump and been on her way, but now she would be forced to make small talk with Doreen, whose love of gossip was only rivalled by her hate of those not inside her circle.  Lena, who had broken an engagement to Doreen’s son over fifteen years ago, was definitely not inside that circle. 

Forcing a smile, Lena set her items on the counter and greeted Doreen. Doreen wore the company’s cherry red polo shirt with matching lipstick upon her pinched face.  She was a small woman, in both height and girth, but she held a certain power in their small town, and she wielded it with a seemingly capricious yet calculating precision. Her husband had owned several gas stations in the area for years, including this location, before handing over the reins to their daughter, Lucy. Doreen had long felt sorry for poor Lucy; she had returned home to take over the family business from her father, yet failed to realized that the true owner was, and always would be, her mother.

Doreen beamed at her and clasped her freshly manicured hands together. “Bless you, dear! I am so happy to see you. Both you and Chris have been on my mind.”

Lena returned her greeting, bracing herself for what was sure to follow.

“You look well, healthy even! Your face is a little puffy, but the chemo does that, doesn’t it? At least you’re not losing your appetite, you’ve gained weight if anything. I don’t mean that in a bad way, you know, I just mean you don’t look like you have… you know.”

Lena looked at Doreen blankly; Doreen’s passive aggressiveness used to be a lot more passive. Lena purposefully unclenched her jaw and took a deep breath; she knew Doreen was baiting her and she wasn’t going to fall for it. “I’m doing well thank you,” she said, with a tight smile.

“Oh, bless you. I have been praying for you. And telling everyone else to pray for you as well. They have so many good treatments nowadays; I’m sure you’re going to be just fine.  Liz at BankSure had the same thing years ago and she’s doing just fine! Her sister had it too and she didn’t make it, neither did Lucy’s college roommate’s mom’s cousin, but, I’m so scatterbrained these days, I don’t know where I’m going with this. You’re going to be just fine.”

Lena was speechless. She couldn’t force herself into a response and knew her smile had likely morphed into a grimace.

Doreen continued, “Like I said, you’ll be just fine. So many treatments. And then Chris can hopefully concentrate on getting another job! Laying off a man with a sick wife, that’s just wrong. A better job is right around the corner, I’m telling you. If you two need anything, I’m right here for you. Please remember that.”

Lena took the plastic bag and receipt from Doreen and looked her in the eye. “You have a good evening, Doreen. I hope you’re blessed as much as you bless others.”

Lena had never been so relieved to feel the hot August air against her face as she exited the gas station. The humidity enveloped her and beads of perspiration dotted her forehead, but she didn’t start her car right away; she let the heat soften her shoulders, her hands, her mind.

Lena wanted to tell Chris about her encounter in the frozen food aisle when she arrived home but couldn’t find the words, or more accurately, couldn’t find the words that wouldn’t make her sound unhinged. She considered telling him about Doreen, but Chris was in no mood for conversation; he had spent the better part of his day in a whirlpool of anxiety and self-loathing. Lena was well aware of her expected role at the dinner table when he was like this; she affirmed him of his strengths and encouraged him that he would find another job soon.

“Look at me, droning on, when you’re working all that you can and going through treatments. I’m sor—”

Lena cut him off, “We’re going to be okay. You’re allowed to have bad days too, you know. Even if I have the big ‘C’.”

Chris sighed, and took her hand in his. “One day things will be better.”       

Lena squeezed his hand and felt her first genuine smile all day. “And this will be a distant memory. I sure hope so.”

They finished their meal in a companionable silence, and afterwards, Chris began washing the dishes as Lena headed to the shower. She lathered up and ran her hands over her scars; they were fading but not as quickly as Lena wanted. As she rinsed off, she recalled the words of her doctors, “early” and “treatable”. She thought of their emergency fund, dwindling, yet not fully drained. She knew Chris would find something and her odds of a recovery were in her favor. And yet. Everything felt hard and wrong and there were so many days Lena didn’t know if she could make it through this. Stepping outside the shower, she stood in front of the mirror. She touched her face, gently. She had wrinkles around her eyes but her medium brown skin was otherwise unlined. Lena couldn’t help but wonder, will I one day see wrinkles here? One day will this all be a distant memory for me?

Hours after they retired to bed, Lena softly padded out of their bedroom, made herself a cup of tea in the kitchen, and stepped out onto the patio. The night air was charged with the promise of rain, and swiftly moving clouds obscured the moon and stars. Lena began to question herself; her memory was fresh and unyielding, but her once resolute interpretation was beginning to falter. Why did she think she met an angel and not a kind stranger during a clearly vulnerable time in her life? And if she did encounter “something”, maybe that “something” was a ghost or alien or some other being whose existence she found equally improbable? Why could she remember it all so vividly but not remember the woman’s face? Her features remained a mystery, all but those eyes, and she felt the weight of their gaze even now as she stood alone in the dark.

The rain began to fall gently. Lena placed her teacup on the small table to her right and drew her shoulders to her ears before slowly releasing them. An owl’s hoot punctuated the growing whisper of rustling leaves. Lena wiggled her toes on the dampening concrete. The wind carried the scent of magnolias and fresh cut grass, and she swayed as it tousled her short locs. The rain picked up. Lena stepped onto the lawn, and face upturned, she gazed at the starless sky and let the rain and her tears course down her face.