Dunkin Donuts XII
When I was younger, I had a crush on Casey Affleck. He played Ben Affleck’s brother in Good Will Hunting. He had gorgeous blue eyes and dark, curly hair. He reminded me of the angel Gabriel. I only know what an angel is like because I did a research paper on them last year. That is not where the bulk of my perception comes from, though. Sometimes I write about Arch angels in my decomposition notebook, giving them human like traits and tendencies. I picture Gabriella as the girl everyone is afraid of, and her twin brother Gabriel as a guy who is sometimes mad, but in a good way. I picture Gabriel as the boss angel- the guy who oversees everything. The last time I wrote about him in my notebook, my headphones were on full blast to the song “You the Boss,” by Nicki Minaj. It was the first Monday of Christmas vacation and I was in my corner in the Dunkin Donuts store by the redline station. I was alone, except for the whisper of wind that found itself inside every time a person walked in, which happened maybe two or three times, until I took notice of an attractive man who swore to himself as he accidently tripped on the carpet rug while trying to walk into the store.
“Sup,” the guy said, pulling out the chair from under the table. At this point I wasn’t surprised at the presence of angels and holy beings and whatnot. His eyes were magnetic; waves of blue that crashed against an opposing demeanor. It felt like he was on the defense for some unknown reason. Maybe he was under the impression that walking up to me was his job. Maybe he was there against his will. Maybe he was there to save his sister. While doing my research paper, I read a crazy blog by some religious fanatic that said before Earth and hell was created and all there was was heaven, people from the future who could see the future came and took 66,000 angels from heaven, including Gabriella.
“…. And I haven’t seen her since,” Gabriel said, concluding the story in which I was amazed to hear from another person. He arched his back and slouched in his chair.
“Do you have wings?” I asked.
“Well, of course,” Gabriel said, “I am the head angel. Me and Mike. But people can’t see my wings during the day, only sometimes at night. Do you know the best way to tell the difference between a good angel and a bad angel?” He asked, an air of amusement sketched on his face.
I tapped my nails on the table. “No,” I said, trying to redeliver the sarcasm. “How?”
He smiled. “It’s easy,” he said, “Good wings always go straight up when arched. Bad one spread out to the side.”
“But then it’s not fair if it’s during the day and you can’t see which way the wings go,” I said.
“I know,” he said, “It’s just one of those things that has arose over the years…or should I say, eons. Lots of holy things have lost their way. Did you know Lucifer was initially an angel? He denied God and was banished to hell. That is why I have a phobia of heights, because I was above when all of us watched him go down. Mike had all of us watch him go down in the escalator, so that we knew he left, so that we wouldn’t fear him.”
“Why is it,” I said, shutting my decomposition book, “that I keep on seeing these angels, and they keep on telling me crazy things, and then they just leave me here by myself afterwards?”
“Mike said to just occasionally come down and talk to some of our prospects first,” he said, taking my notebook from me, opening a page and taking a pencil out of his messenger bag. “He said that you are one of the top picks.”
“…. Why?” I asked.
“We like what you are doing down here. The way you opened the door for that blind person the other day? Nice. It was great because the person couldn’t see who you were, so you did it out of pure pity. Pity is one of the big things that the messenger angels need the most, especially on rescue missions. The other night a dog fell into a sewer pipe and I rescued him, while no one was watching; except for God.”
Gabriel handed me back my notebook. In it he had drawn a sun breaking through a bunch of dark, shaded in clouds. “Those are the best moments,” he said, “When you are alone with God.”
The bell rang and we both turned around to see and elderly person walk in, before a huge full moon through the Dunkin Donuts window.
“That’s my sign,” he said, “I gotta go. When the moon is abnormally large, it means there is a big meeting coming up.”
He got up and pushed the chair back in under the table.
“Good talking to you,” he said, “We’ll be in touch.”
And he walked out the door, as an unusually strong gush of wind streamed in the store.