Page 63 of Eyes Like Angel
He had his hands on his hips. “Then I’m handling all the work while you put the dry stuff away,” he simply informed. “Besides, we can’t let Mrs. Rivers know about this, of course. She’ll be mad if I do all the work, but I am actually not uptight. I can carry heavier stuff, too. If you’re having a dislocation on your shoulder or not bending your injured knee or something else, just call me and I’ll handle the rest.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t hesitate,” he added, putting his palm over shoulder, but stopped due to my slight flinch. Regardless, he lowered his hand and offered a brief handshake.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sister Eva. I know you can do it. Just don’t mind what other people say about you. As long as we have paycheck, there’s nothing to worry about.”
Proceeded to agree at his terms, he said the wet napkin aside and was the first person to turn the key over at the backside after quitting the church kitchen.
“We’re the only ones to have these keys, right?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm, that’s right.”
He unlocked the door, but was having an impossible time to nudge the gravity on the wooden oak door with a bright exit sign stickered on it.
“And what happens if one of us loses the key?” I spoke up.
“Then I give this one to you. As long as Mrs. Rivers won’t know, it won’t hurt her.”
“And what if she approached me about the keys?”
“Then tell her that I lost the keys from running around up and down making a fine contribution to our little society,” he said lightly.
Then I laughed a little.
He turned around and veered at me.
“You know, Sister Eva, you sounded kind of pretty when you laugh,” he commented casually.
That caught me off guard, but quickened at my shake once he shoved against the door outward by force, sunlight pooling in.
“Ready to do this?”
“I’m ready,” I confirmed.
“Alright, good luck,” he said, pacing himself at the crowded space, and the ailment of dread washed over me.
“Don’t let those assholes get to you, okay? Not even those petty Karens everywhere,” he added with urgency. “Always known for being a killjoy and self-righteous whenever it benefits to the cause from meddling and poking noses to someone’s business.”
My head angled to the side.
“Karens,” I uttered in soft puzzlement and soft terror. “Are all the women here are named Karen?”
“No, no,” he said, guffawed. “It’s a meme that people comment makes on the internet.”
Doubts overshadowed me. “Internet…”
Micah looked at me in the eye seriously this time. “You’re kidding, right?”
My pulse ran hot. “I never…kid.”
The confidence in my voice wavered as he handed me the purple apron for me to tie on.
“Well, good news, Sister Eva. We have a lunch break in a total of twenty minutes. Which means,” he set the timer on, “we have a lot to talk about in the golden days of memes and the context to keep up with the slang. I’ll even teach you in a proper way, so that you could become like me, more confident and less tense when facing your hater or use it as a coping mechanism. What do you say?”
My shoulders bopped. “Sure. Why not?”
“Alright, it’s settled then. We’ll chat and I’ll show you the videos onYouTubeandTikTok. In the meantime, let’s focus on getting our shit done.”
