Page 87 of Eyes Like Angel
“Thirty?”
Micah nodded happily in a hyper motion. “Mrs. Rivers is particularly in a good mood today. For what, I don’t know.”
It’s true when happiness is a rich person is carefree and on cloud-nine, rich people are the nicest when they’re the happiest.
I observed Mrs. Rivers behind Micah’s broad shoulder.
By the dessert section, Mrs. Rivers chatted with a taller man, who is a couple years younger than her, drinking his coffee in a foam cup, cackling and making jokes.
But then again, how young is young? Some older people appeared younger, and younger people appeared mature due to their tall and broad stature, same rule apply for girls.
Strange world I’m living in.
“Hey, so, you want to take a break and show you more of the memes and comments from social media?”
Glancing behind my shoulder, I checked back at Mrs. Rivers in case she was spying on us or eavesdrop our ordinary conversation, so I said to him, “Sure. Not at all.”
Giddied, Micah sat by the nearby bench underneath a leafless tree, he showed his phone screen while drinking his water. The climate in a month of December was complicated. First it was tepid, then windy, and if its’ at night, the weather has gotten colder. In Fort Heaven, wintry snow never made its appearance.
As soon as Micah explained the context of a recent video going viral, a roaring engine of a motorcycle busted in. A fewhomeless people had their attention targeted at a roaring sound, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Rivers. Meanwhile Father Divine shaken his head at a disruption, and Sister Jane clung onto Sister Joanne, eyeing the commotion.
“Oh, who was it this time? Surely, it can’t be Adrian Rivers, it’s only eleven in the morning for fuck’s sake,” Sister Joanne claimed in an accusation tone.
“Maybe a new guy in town,” Sister Jane guessed, her eyelashes batted.
Once the man in a brown leather jacket dismounted from his motor bike, he took off his helmet, revealing a familiar coal-black hair and brown eyes, wearing a wide charismatic grin at the crowd.
“Romano!” Vivian screamed as she rushed to greet him.
Other girls followed the suit, wanting a piece of him, cheering for him and welcoming him back. Father Divine and his family were in awe for Romano reunited the known community, while Mr. Rivers disapproved and Mrs. Rivers was licking and biting her lower lip. Sister Joanne, however, was entranced, adjusted the shirt to unveil her cleavage, which drove Sister Jane’s face to disgust.
In the corner of my eye, Micah took notice of my sudden paralyze etched across my visage.
“Are you okay, Sister Eva?”
I faced him, after a long trance. “I’m fine.”
***
His name kept replaying in my head.
Romano. Romano Salazar. He’s the member—a former member of the Divine Miracles Church. Not knowing much of the man other than his part-time drummer and a full-time expert in acoustic guitar, he’s also a charmer; a real charmer to anyone crossed or met him, charmed them with a favorable smile, young and old, placed with kind words through hisparted lips. Anywhere he goes; people’s eyes were captured onto him, like their time was frozen. Wherever he goes, he gathered crowds for a simple talk or being goofy like he has known and acquainted with them for a long span of time.
Romano’s naturally gifted at that, something I admired.
It all started with him, randomly helping out the church staff, then it lead to him meeting the head of the church—the priest, precisely—bursting into the church doors like he owned the place, like he was walking at a bar. He helped the priest by organizing the decorations and materials from a Sunday Mass, then as he was done aiding, Romano was negotiating—willing to give an idea to the priest with a band. At first, the priest disliked the idea, but with Romano’s persuasion, the priest was convinced—of blending the church’s choir with Romano’s band.
By then, Romano’s a certified member of the holy gathering the priest set up to anyone those who appeared welcoming and come with whole-heartedly sincerity.
I’ve seen him a couple of times, scurrying in and out of the church, sometimes at the Fort Heaven’s town square, he serenaded with his guitar during the holiday gathering, but that was several years ago. He’s the outgoing type; loved small conversations could turn into something big and memorable—enjoyable, even.
The life of a party, as people described him as.
The life of a party, a social butterfly, a party animal—the list goes on and on.
Nevertheless, Romano’s confident and fearless.
Every day, he roamed around town, on every corner, compiling each and every single of the bystanders, either a clique or a loner, Romano captured everyone’s heart.
