Effortlessly, his car came into view, as if every frantic and false move he’d made before in trying to find her had been amended. He looked up, thinking God had the life of this angel in His interest as well.
Frank attempted to lay her down in the backseat, but she was a foot too long. Scrunching her feet, bending her knees, he got the door shut, cramming her in. He went into the trunk and got out the blanket he’d used with Sharon. It was littered with leaves and detritus. The bloodstains had turned nearly black. It disturbed him, having to put it over the angel, but there was no way he could risk anyone seeing her before he got her home.
“It’ll be all right, angel. I’ll just take you to my place and fix you up. Okay?” He cranked the car on, turned it around, and raced back into the city, to the privacy of his apartment.
Frank set her on his bed. He clasped his hands in reverence, staring down at her. She was like a huge, beautiful waxen doll.
He poured warm water and bath oil into a bowl, retrieved a towel from his linen rack, then commenced ablutions. Her wings clung to her until he began wiping them with the warm water. As they fell away, he eyed her body, draped in a diaphanous fabric. Her breasts were high and small, her mons hairless. She had no navel, nor did her rib cage extend below her breasts. Her torso was long, hipless; her legs also lengthy and thin. Her ankles were crossed, much to Frank’s annoyance. He wanted to see her precious honeypot. He thought even God would understand his curiosity. How often did a mortal see an angel this close up?
Lifting the material of her gown, he washed her body. He felt the spreading heat in his groin, hoping God wouldn’t think he was a pervert. He spread her legs, staring at the seamless flesh there.
“Sheesh! She’s a fucking Barbie doll.” Maybe if he pried the skin apart…
She moaned, her arms rising up from her wings, self-consciously pulling down her gown. Frank grumbled. He wiped down her feet, then brushed her hair. It was thick and felt fake, like thin nylon filament. Not the silky stuff he expected. Nevertheless, running his fingers through it was keeping him hot.
Just then, he remembered God, His ever-present love… and judgment. Frank swam in a torrent of guilt. “I’ll just leave you here and let you rest. Call out if you need me. I’m Frank Garland. Frank.”
He leaned over her, staring at her mouth, his cock still throbbing in his jeans. She had no discernible lips, but he could imagine her mouth opening, closing around his…Shit, he thought, he was acting like a pervert. As God was his witness, this was an angel, not some self-serving bitch!
Just the same, he didn’t want her flying off on him. He tied her up with clean nylon rope, then left her there while he took a cold shower.
Frank turned down the Charger game when he thought he heard her calling. Her voice had the quality of a wind chime tinkling in his head. When he hurried into the bedroom, she was wrestling with the ropes, her wings strained against the constriction. Her mouth worked, but no sound came. Instead, Frank heard her entreaty—frenzied, fearful—in his mind.
“Hey, hey. Don’t be frightened. I just tied you up so you wouldn’t try to walk or anything. I couldn’t tell how hurt you were in that fall. Here… let me untie you.” He noticed the angel’s eyes were black, like onyx marbles. She seemed to be looking at him with marked incredulity.
Once untied, the angel crawled off the bed and stood in the corner of the room. He could feel her wonder, where am I?, her eyes wide.
“You’re in my apartment. I found you in the woods when you crashed. You fell from the sky.” He put his hands behind him, full of humility. “I saved you.”
She searched the room until she saw the doorway, then moved toward it. Her movements were awkward, as if she was trying to stay on the ground. He watched her go down the hall, into the living room, and followed. She was staring at the television.
“It’s a football game. Don’t you have those in heaven?”
She shook her head, turning toward the kitchen.
“That’s my kitchen. Food? Are you hungry?”
She nodded, moving buoyantly in that direction.
Frank opened his cupboards. There were two cans of SpaghettiOs, an open bag of chips, a nearly empty jar of coffee, and an unopened box of animal crackers. Trying the fridge, he found a six-pack minus two cans, the doggie bag from the restaurant he’d taken Sharon to, and an apple so wizened, it looked like a large walnut.
He grabbed the doggie bag and set it on the counter. “I don’t have much. You can have the leftovers.”
Suddenly, he was aware she needed water. He poured her a glass. She drank voraciously, the sound of her gullet like a cricket chirping. She shivered as she swallowed, her wings trembling behind her. He held up the barbecue chicken from the bag. She turned away. With that, he started on the leftovers himself.
After she’d consumed two quarts of water, Frank watched her glide over to the sofa. Her hand went over the nubby fabric, pressing, testing, before she sat down.
“Hey, you want to talk or something?” Frank sat across from her in the vinyl recliner he’d inherited from his stepfather.
Her voice twittered and tinkled in his mind. Where on earth am I? Where is she, my OTHER, who I am to meet?
Frank grinned. “You’re in Denton. It’s a suburb of Henderson. The city’s about a twenty-mile ride northeast of here. I work in the city. At a big hotel.” Frank paused. “You’re supposed to meet somebody?”
She nodded. An image of a pale, stiff-looking, professor-type woman flashed in his mind. She wasn’t familiar to Frank. He didn’t travel in intellectual circles, he thought, chuckling.
“You must be her guardian angel, huh? Sorry you ended up with me, but I’m sure I need you more than she ever could.”
A question slid into Frank’s mind. He snorted. “How do I need you? As God is my witness, I’m having one serious shortage of faith. Started way back when I lost my dad. I’m a fucking spiritual nightmare, right now. That’s how I just know God sent you to me. That woman you’re supposed to meet? She has to be a mistake.”
The angel glanced around the room, disinterested in Frank’s banter. She put her hands to her nose, sniffed them. The angel wanted to know what she sensed on her.
“Oh, that. I bought some nice-smelling bath stuff for my last girlfriend and it was in the water I used to clean you up. Hope you don’t mind. It smells pretty good, huh?”
The angel cocked her head. He felt something searching under his clothes, over his skin, like a feather brushing lightly on the surface, from his feet up to his chin. The effect made him horny again. His erection did not go unnoticed. The feather touch seemed to concentrate there, lapping over the taut skin, then traveled up his body, and away.
“Jesus.” Frank felt as if he was about to come. He looked into and away from her obsidian eyes, sensing her curiosity with his prick, and displeasure with his scent.
“Oh, sorry. I took a cold shower. No soap. I forget shit like that. Go to the store and buy everything but…” His erection shrank. “I’ll pick some up later, really.”
The phone trilled, making Frank jump. He was suddenly wary, the boundary of his apartment walls dissolving into full exposure. Everyone will know. He grabbed the receiver.
“Yeah?”
“Is that how you answer the phone now?”
He slumped against the bar that divided the kitchen and living room. “Ma. What is it?”
She sighed audibly. Frank steeled himself.
“We missed you at church today. That makes three Sundays in a row. I wanted to know what in the devil you’ve been up to?” Her tone went from benign concern to grand suspicion in a few seconds.