Page 47 of Eyes Like Angel
My heart floated in happiness when she replied to me, more human and less like a doll.
“Alright, then,” I began before cleaning the mess up. “I’ll pick some snacks and takeout food and tell me which one you like best, okay?”
“Okay.”
Moments later, I grabbed the snacks I hid in my room, and ordered takeout food by the phone call. Couple minutes later, numerous display of burger, pizza, and snacks which wereSour Patch Kids, Jolly Rancher, Hershey’s, Snickers, Oreos, Reese’s, and M&M’s. I watched her observe each candies and food, as if she’s never seen them before. I’m in no place to judge her, but she’s lucky at the same time, realizing that this was her trying everything for the first time. I encouraged her to take a bite on each and every one of them. She hummed, but at one point she stuck her tongue out, which I find hilarious and adored at her contortion; she tasted theSour Patch Kids.
Laughing, I said, “Try this one.” I pointed at the stuffed Oreos. Between her dainty fingers, she lifted the piece up into her mouth and tasted it, thinking.
She nodded; a small smile drew up in the corners of her chapped mouth.
Happiness settled in me, as I stood up grabbing the vegan milk my mom bought, which was disgusting, but happily obliged on having her first experience on dipping the Oreo.
“Why are you bringing milk?” she wondered, green eyes sparkled.
“Because I want you to try something,” I replied, still smiling, sitting closer to her. “Here, watch.” I took a piece of Oreo and dipped inches into the milk before placing it inside my mouth, gorging the soaked Oreo.
I hummed. “See, it tastes good. Why don’t you give it a try?”
Hesitantly, Eva dipped hers and took a tiny bite. Soon, she liked the idea with milk around. So I poured milk on the glass, setting the vegan milk aside.
“Since you haven’t seen some of the movies, I want you to take a pick.” I handed her the remote and watched her took it. She didn’t know how to operate the buttons so I taught her along the way as the screen changed movie to movie.
“If you want to watch the show, I wouldn’t mind,” I said to her, almost encouraging, wanting her to discover the things she hasn’t seen and experienced before.
When she scrolled, she finally picked the film,Howl’s Moving Castle, a complete opposite of film we last watched.
Moments in, she’s locked in, consuming her Oreo, and we shared the milk each time we dipped the new piece in while I set the volume higher, as she took it all in, appreciating the soundtrack and the animation. I’ve watched this film three times, but while watching the movie with Eva felt like it was my first time, as if I had a…special connection with her. When the bowl was empty from eating Oreos, I encouraged her to try to burger and pizza, despite the fast food had gone cold.
She took a bite from a burger and savored the taste. The fact that she enjoyed the burger had made me happy with my decisions with splurging on ordering unhealthy amount of food, which was great.
Now I knew what Marceline meant she said that she’s happy wasting her money on food and items.
I should call Marceline the next time Eva will be here at the estate. But then, her house—her dark attic—was far off from where she is now. Before my bedtime, I spoke to my mom about keeping Eva around, by telling her that it might give God’s protection. As much as I hate to lie and using God as an excuse, despite being an atheist, Mom was convinced to let her sleep on the maid’s quarters.
Eva had no items or belongings but it should be good enough for her and good enough for me to watch her while she’s sleeping, as I have done at the dark attic after I stole belongings and had Saul carried the dead bodies—we split apart and met back later before sunrise came, the day after Thanksgiving.
Before my parents come home, I set the food inside my fridge upstairs and went back to meet her, who’s already settling herself in. The sad part was there was no bed; she only had the bedsheet she found and lied down. Seeing her like this put me to discomfort. I set the pillow and blanket I took from my room and propped it on her head and veiled her with a spare sheet I provided.
At this moment, I didn’t want to leave her. I didn’t want to or wish to.
This was my parents’ house, but it won’t stop me from visiting her.
Watching her.
In the middle of the night, I watched her sleep, after my parents lay down to rest, eating Oreos as I heard her little snores, clinging onto the head pillow, slept in peace, shivering from a thin material covering her body. Maybe I should’ve taken the quilt. I’ll find another solution to Eva’s sleep more hospitable.
What has made her sleep in the dark attic in the first place? That I’ll never know, but it won’t to ask, won’t it? Then again, it might be something she might not talk about.
Regardless, I scooted closer and tucked another pillow in between her arms, as I watched clung onto it, as the melancholy resided and clawed its way into the depths in my numbing, indifferent heart.
But my own curfew came, and I had to call it in for the night.
***
Washing under a hot shower was the perfect way to end, after today’s events from sweating whenever I see Eva, wherever she’s at—at the kitchen, bathroom. In the air, it felt as if her presence was there at my side, such diligent, hard-working and cautious for a godly woman, a goodlier woman.
Some angels were never meant to stay in heaven. This angel happens to be lost in the garden of land, and trapped within, and better when the angel stayed at my territory.
