Page 86 of Eyes Like Angel
“If you smile, I’ll pay you more that I regularly afford.”
“Girls are meant to be soft and benign."
"Girls shouldn't have dreams to begin with. The moment they're born as girls, they have to be mothers when they grow up.”
“Wives ended having divorce papers signed by their husbands because they don’t give a smile to their spouse.”
“Would you want to be a celibate for life?”
“Not being able to smile is like being in prison; you won’t get anywhere if you were scowling.”
“Mothers and Mother-in-laws never want a woman who’s scowling and defiant, hence why the mother convinced the son to choose her instead of a girlfriend becoming a potential wife.”
“These are what men don’t like: frowning and having too many high standards.”
“Women who frown are the ones who have the highest maintenance.”
Hearing commentaries from neighbors each time I set myself to do housekeeping chores were impolite for my cleanly routine to complete the house in tip-top shape.
But a random lady at a charity event was neither condescending nor severely opinionated. The only thing she pointed out was for me to join the girls.
I couldn’t…control my answer. But my silence could.
“I’m sorry, miss, I have to…get back to my duties,” I said to her.
“Don’t worry too much, sweetie,” she said with a cheeky smile, eyes folded into a squint again. “You’re not missing out on anything. You have so much life ahead of you.”
My head bobbed, in confirmation. “I won’t, miss.”
“Please, call me Magnolia,” she insisted, smiling bright.
I nodded once more. “Alright, Magnolia. Enjoy your cherry cheese Danish and coffee.”
“I will, dear,” she returned, munching the soft-baked dessert as I sauntered away to gather the trays again, but this time, Micah, with his dark-brown tousled hair swished ashe heard my footsteps. “These are perfectly tasty. Who made these?”
My shoulders shrugged. “I don’t know. My guess is the baker from Angel’s Cloud bakery store.”
I sometimes go there, when I obtained a little change from Divine family. Instead of saving it in a tiny jar I kept it hidden on the attic’s floorboards, I spent in at the bakery shop, Angel’s Cloud, and ordered a sweet once in a while, but feared Sister Jane or Brother Josh might caught me and yanked me all the way to Divine household to punish me. Marceline was a talented and carefully constructed baker who uses right measurement in ingredients and knows the right temperature for the baked goods for her customers to relish her gift.
“Miss Marceline,” the beggar chimed in dreamily. “I’d figured she’d be the type of baker to bake all perfection.”
“Sister Eva, perfect you’re here,” he said, his arms extended outwards. “I’ll take those.”
I gripped on the trays tighter. “Are you sure?”
His face scrunched, still insisting. “I’m sure. You must be tired from walking all over the church grounds,” he joked a bit, his toothy grin formed.
But I didn’t smile, though in the end, I shot at him with a small and dry gesture on my lips.
His skin glistened from a blistering sunlight. This job must’ve taken a toll on him, but Micah didn’t let it affect his whimsical attitude.
A few girls liked him. He’s nice, a gentleman, to some extent.
Very boy-next door, one that girls liked to think it’s romantic to see a handsome man who’s dedicated and well-considerate.
Micah insisted, hands splayed out, his persistence was outstandingly overwhelming. Surrendered at his puppy-like eyes, I handed the trays over.
“Besides,” he said, groaning at an extreme weight, loaded in his clinching palms. “It’s my turn to wash the dishes today. Lucky for you, you have a thirty minute break.”
