I tried to fool him by turning off the lights. Maybe if he thought I wasn't home he wouldn't appear. My Angel  turned on the floor lamp recognizing my ploy.

"What are you up to? Do you feel that it will do you any good?" He turned the chair around sitting with his legs straddling the back and poured himself some wine.

"It seems to me that you have to much idle time. Don't Angels have jobs?"

I just looked at him, splendid, with his wings unfurled.

"We have duties, but I'm on leave. I get to visit you."  He flapped feathers askew. "Well?"

"Why was I blessed with a guardian angel that felt it necessary to micro- manage me?"

I got up and went to the bathroom.

"Don’t shake it more than twice, three or more is a sin. This is good…" he slurped… "What is it?"

I purposely yanked on it with all the attention I could give. It did not, however, respond. After all, some part of us has to respect the nature of our visitor.

"At least your penis gives us reverence. What kind of wine is this?" The Angel yelled through the door.

I sauntered out trying to look as nonplused as I could. " How do you know? You don’t have one."

The Angel visited more often these days. I had come to expect him.

"With all the grunting, snorting and pawing, never mind all the time and energy you all waste trying to get it to happen …I’m just as glad I don’t have one. You haven’t been laid in awhile have you? Where did she go, Cynthia, wasn't it? I liked her."

"A Zinfandel. I am preparing two t-bone steaks  …want some?" I bowed, ever trying to be the perfect host. " Don’t flap …little white stuff gets in the air."

"Oh. Forgive me." He noisily snapped his wings tight against his back and in a flourish took another deep draught of my wine. "Is this a cow we are about to eat? I only ask because I can’t abide pig. There is no religious reason it is simply that I don’t care for the taste. I had mentioned my distaste for swine flesh to my charges in the past and they took it for an edict."

"Perhaps it would be wise to change your style if it has such profound effect." I smiled. Sarcasm is always wasted on angels.

I served a spring leaf salad with a sweet vinaigrette dressing, green beans with caramelized onions and au gratin potatoes with the steak. I realized my hiding in the dark was silly with the splendid odors from my kitchen in the air. It was a natural reaction whenever I heard the flap of giant angelic wings. I felt a tinge of fear. I don't know why, he was always pleasant. In fact, I liked his company.

We ate in silence. When we finished we had a sweet deep roasted coffee.

"That was wonderful." My guest sipped.

"Thank you …why are you here?" I snapped.

 My Angel frowned.
"Why are you in such a hurry? You are alive and should relish each moment you are granted." He smiled and I hated that.

"Because I must be crazy. No one sees Angels, at least one of your demeanor. Never mind having one constantly visiting. I am not a holy man. I am not a priest. I am no one who would seek the company of angels. I do nothing dangerous. I am not schizoid or clairvoyant yet here we are. I cook for us. I buy wine for us. I have no life as you point out." I got up, for effect, meaning the words to be rhetorical.

"Please I don’t mean that you shouldn’t get laid. It might improve your mood. Do you have any more wine?" He rose and checked the counter and refrigerator. "Time is precious and should be used well."

"There should be another bottle in there help yourself." I put the dishes in the sink and stood staring at the Angel.

"What… Oh!" He waved his hand and the dishes disappeared. He pulled out a drawer and found the corkscrew. He opened the bottle and poured a full glass.

I opened the door to the upper cupboard making sure the dishes were cleaned and put away. The last time he made them truly disappear.

"Where did you put them last time …the dishes? I just wondered."

"I put them away…broke them down to there basic elements. Disappeared them!"

"Thank you for putting them away this time …less expensive." I sat on the couch waiting.

The Angel turned the chair to stare at me while he drank his wine.

"I don’t think you have done  enough with your life. It’s a blessing, you know, no matter how difficult, painful or boring it gets. Life is about always wondering what’s next and wondering why the other guy is doing better than you. Truth is, no one does all that well down here. You get love or you get money .You might even get love and money and a life of ennui. You can have incredible adventures or be stuck in fear. You can wish or you can do. And what I’m going to do, even though I’m not alive, is have some more wine."

"How can you sit there… it’s not fair for you to be here. You tell me a stories of your glory, show me levels and levels of Angels singing the praise of God. And then you let me hear it and I am left in the pain of not hearing it every day… every moment of my life. Then you pop in to further torture me with your splendor."

"You want me to leave?" He grinned and sipped his coffee. " I’m sorry you lack the temperament of piety and the appreciation of pomp and ceremony."

"Why would you say that? Where in my life would I find true piety and pomp?

"Everywhere…except in the things you humans make. Everything that God has made is a reason to celebrate and create your own ceremony… just because you take the moment to pay close attention. But you better hurry… you all are so busy making things, that all the things made of heaven may be pushed aside." He flapped his wings dramatically sending white fluff in the air.

I flung myself down on the floor face down, like a child. I had every intention to throw a tantrum it usually happens when I am in the presence of truth. It pisses me off more than anything to find that I mechanically buy in to the culture; assuming I’m doing all right and really, deep down, knowing that I’m full of shit. I rolled over on my back to admire and hate my guest. I started sneezing.

"Are you allergic to Angel down?"

He looked down on me with what appeared too be honest concern. All I felt was foolish.

"So he made you first?" I whined and wiped my nose with my sleeve. Sitting up was done with little grace.

"Yes He did. But he made you to experience and learn what is not learn-able …knowing everything is a terrible burden."

"You drink my wine and dine discussing why we’re here, yet, I am no more enlightened for this experience. All you do is judge me and speak in riddles. What do you really want?" I sat back on the couch.

"How old are you? Do you remember?’

I couldn’t.

"I’ve been allowed to visit these last weeks to make the transition easier."

I was shocked and stood backing into the kitchen. " You are death?"

"No! I’m just an angel and it’s my turn. You have to go back…third -tier tenor. We’ve missed you. It’s so hard because He grants us life for such a short while but it’s no good if you know. There was that thing where a bunch of us managed to get working equipment, if you know what I mean, and use it on women. Giants and mayhem, a mess. It took the Big Guy a while to forgive us that. So now it works this way… the next one in line comes and visits for awhile …to help."

Sadness hit me first, then a sense of loss. This was true and right but I would have liked a bit more time. I thought of Cynthia.

My back twitched and great wings unfurled behind me and my Angel fell asleep with his head down on the table. He looked just like me, was wearing my clothes, and I loved him. He now had no wings. I remembered all the glory of how it felt to be alive. And I began to sing as the world faded from my view and I, in thanks abundant, took my place in the choir.

End.

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