Mary and the Angel

“Greetings,” she said calmly from the foot of the bed.

Surprisingly, Mary didn’t jump up immediately. She tugged a little at the rosy duvet and rubbed her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I haven’t woken up yet. Who are you?”

“You are highly favored. I don’t come to just anyone.”

Unsure that this answered her question, Mary sat up a little straighter. Her first thought was that this was a dream, but as the morning fog cleared from her head she wasn’t so certain.

The stranger sat stiffly on the corner of the bed, like a student eager for the professor to proclaim the end of a class so they can scurry off to the next.

“I don’t understand. Did you break into my home?” Mary asked now, pulling her feet up closer to her body but remaining under the sheets.

“No, you let me in.”

“I have no memory of that, but if you say so,” Mary trailed off. “I suppose you would like some breakfast.”

“That would be nice, yes.”

Mary eased her feet into the fuzzy slippers next to her bed and started toward the kitchen. The figure floated dazedly after her.

“I’m quite hungry.”

“I’m never hungry in the mornings,” was Mary’s recited response.

As the stranger tucked into some eggs and toast, Mary sipped anxiously at an unsweetened cup of Earl Grey. She studied the person before her. Her shape was blurred and bright, so that Mary couldn’t tell where her body ended and the sunlight pouring through the windows started. She had intense eyes which Mary couldn’t meet. Mary stared into her tea.

“Are you going to tell me who you are?” Mary finally asked, quietly.

“Have you ever played 20 Questions?”

“I’m sorry?” Mary looked up and then decidedly back down to avoid the stranger’s eyes.

“The child’s game. You ask 20 Questions and try to guess what the other person has in mind… you have to figure out what the object, or person, is.”

Mary nodded solemnly.

“Well this could work like that if you want. And I cannot lie to you.”

Mary sat with this information for a moment and then decided on a question.

“Would you like some more eggs?” 

“Yes, please.”

Later in the day, as Mary sat through another tiresome meeting at work, she pondered and counted her blessings: She had food on the table. She had a nice apartment. She had a nice family with parents who she called up twice a week. All these blessings weighed heavily on her heart.

The stranger sat next to her in the conference room, in the unoccupied seat where George used to sit before he took a job in Rochester last month. Her presence irked her a bit but she couldn’t determine why. She wondered vaguely how George was doing.

A thought popped suddenly into her head. She leaned over and in a whisper: “Are you an all-knowing being?”

“In some ways,” the stranger responded, not looking up from doodling on a piece of company stationery.

“I thought 20 Questions required yes or no answers only,” Mary mumbled.

“Not everything can be answered with a simple yes or no.”

Mary thought for a moment.

“You said you can’t tell a lie… does that mean you’re perfect, or like, you can’t sin or make mistakes or something?”

“Absolutely not. I just cannot lie to you.”

Mary’s brain whirred. The figure continued her doodling and Mary became more annoyed.

“If you’re going to sit here, you could at least pretend to be interested in the presentation,” Mary chided her.

The figure looked up, surprised. “Are you interested in this?”

Mary harrumphed.

“Is George doing okay?” Mary asked on a whim.

“Not sure. I assume he’s happier now.” And the figure resumed her doodling.

Later, the figure stood over Mary’s shoulder as she cooked dinner. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me any more questions?” she said as Mary dumped some lettuce and peppers into a salad bowl.

“I’m not sure what to ask you,” Mary said honestly.

“You don’t want to know why I’m here? Who sent me? What my purpose is?”

“Of course I do,” Mary said, but she wasn’t sure that she actually did.

She grabbed the olive oil and plopped down at the kitchen table once more, the stranger pulling out the seat across from her.

“Ask me anything.”

“Who are you?”

“Not that.”

“Then what?”

“Ask me and find out.”

Mary hesitated. “Can I ask you about myself?”

“Yes.”

“Do I need to lose weight?”

“No.”

Mary scoffed a little and took a bland bite.

“Am I attractive?”

“No.”

“Am I going to get promoted at work?”

“No.”

“Jesus, why are you even here?” she said rudely.

“That’s not a question about yourself.”

“Is there a point to this?” Mary realized she was being quite impolite and took a deep breath. “Sorry about that, but really. Is there a point here?”

The figure was silent for a moment but tried to maintain eye contact with a squirmy Mary.

“Yes.”

The next day at work the figure was nowhere in sight. Mary sat through the afternoon meeting but found her mind wandering. Most of the meeting she stared absently at George’s empty seat and thought of questions.

As she left the building promptly at half past five, she saw the figure waiting at the corner. 

“How was work?” the stranger asked with a gloomy smile.

“Seems like you already know.”

They walked home silently together, Mary lost in thought of her questions but too afraid of the answers to ask any. As Mary read in the tub that evening, the figure stared fixedly into the bathroom mirror.

“Sometimes I forget what I look like,” the figure said.

“Is that the truth?” Mary snorted, not looking up from her book.

“You know that it is.” 

The figure waited a few minutes then added, “You still haven’t asked me very much.”

Mary felt herself becoming uncomfortable again and pretended to keep reading. Jokingly, almost bitterly, she asked “How old are you?” without looking at the figure.

“Forty-two in March.”

Mary’s smirk fell. “March 15th?”

“I think you already know.”

That night they sat watching TV together, a show interesting enough to capture Mary’s attention without making her feel bad about her life. At midnight, Mary quietly pressed the power button on the remote and turned to the figure. The two sat in silence in the dark. Mary felt more comfortable this way.

“I think I know who you are.”

“I doubt that. You haven’t asked me very many questions, Mary.”

“You’re an angel. Like… my guardian angel or something.”

“Do I look like an angel?”

“I thought I was supposed to ask the questions.”

“Then ask me one.”

“Are you an angel?”

“No.”

“Then what are you?”

“Not an angel.”

Mary frustratedly threw the remote down on the couch and shuffled off to bed without another word. The next day, over breakfast, Mary made another attempt.

“Will I ever achieve my dream?”

“That depends. What is your dream?” said the figure as she shoveled down a bowl of cereal.

“I want to write a book, I think,” Mary said between sips of tea.

“You think?” said the figure. “You don’t sound very sure. But okay, what would this book be about?”

“My life,” Mary said. “Or maybe a romance science fiction novel. I’m not sure yet.”

“Is this really your dream?” the stranger asked, dropping her spoon with a clatter into the empty cereal bowl.

Mary found that she wasn’t sure if she could lie to the figure or not. She opted not to answer, then spent the rest of the day contemplating that choice.

The next day, the figure sat at the foot of her bed just as the first day. Mary sat up, knowing this must be goodbye.

“Are you leaving?”

The figure nodded.

“Are you sure you’re not an angel?” Mary asked once more.

“I could just as easily be from hell,” the stranger laughed, but the laugh sounded familiar to Mary, like from a long-lost cousin. The two looked each other in the eyes for a long time.

“Did I even ask you twenty questions?” Mary finally asked.

“You might have asked more, I lost count. Do you think you figured me out anyhow?” 

“Sort of.”

“Do tell.”

“You’re… honest.”

“And?”

“It’s been a long time since anyone was this honest with me.”

Mary thought back to the day before she first woke up and found the figure. It was a beautiful fall day. She had just lost her favorite co-worker and started a new diet. Her mother had called that night but Mary let it go to voicemail. There was nothing in her life that she wanted to tell her at the moment, and it was hard enough lying to herself.

“You know I’m not just anyone,” said the figure, smiling softly before gently rising and leaving the room.

Mary slipped her feet into her slippers and walked over to her desk. She typed out a quick email entitled “Two Weeks Notice”, before following the figure out of the room. Her next thought: I’m quite hungry.