The Vision

A Cherub

             The party was in full swing. Martha listened with bored expression to Jill chattering about the Divine Comedy. Jill didn’t believe in God or devils or any of that stuff. Sipping her scotch, Martha let her eyes rove around the room interjecting interested Oh’s and Ah’s to Jill’s prattle. The door to the crowded apartment opened. Just before the hostess blocked Martha’s view, she saw Cecelia, an old friend she hadn’t seen in years. Surprised, Martha exchanged a quick glance of affection and delight with Cecelia, who had spotted her, but was already leaving after a short interchange with the hostess. Then the door shut. Martha regretted that her friend couldn’t stay. She wanted to be with her; she had so much to say.

            The short pleasurable surprise of seeing Cecelia reminded Martha of the time she’d seen the angel. He had come as if he were a familiar friend. She’d recognized what he was. She hadn’t thought angels were anything like those in children’s picture books. She wanted to talk to him too, but everything she wanted to say was said and answered in the glance he had exchanged with her. When he disappeared, she wished she could have gotten closer and said more. For a long while afterward, life seemed flat and empty, because she was missing something precious, like the friend who had just left.

            Jill was still running on about the Divine Comedy, as though she were trying to convince herself she didn’t believe it. Martha grimaced at Jill’s attitudes, and took another sip of scotch.