Exams! I've been so over-stressed all week studying. I still have examinations Monday and Tuesday so updates are a bit slow. Wish me luck! =)
Sanctuary
The stained glass windows glittered. Dust danced about in the rays of sunshine cascading onto the warped wooden floor and aisles of pews. The only sound was the slow tap of Angela's heels.
Perry didn't bother looking up from his book at the podium. The pattern of her steps was familiar enough to him. "Looking for something?"
"Someone."
For a fleeting moment, he dared that special target to be himself. Alarmed, the reverend quickly looked up. Angela's face was turned upwards, staring at the stained glass murals behind him. Oh. Good. Yes.
Perry smiled. "Take your time. I'll be here."
Angela returned the smile and took a few meandering paces to her right, skimming her eyes over the long wooden benches and contemplating sitting down. She was in her Sunday best, in a word. She was wearing a black dress and matching coat fit for a funeral and her hat was the same, close-fitting and tilted slightly over her eyes in an almost nineteen twenties fashion. Her outfit was excessively modest and morose. Angela was the embodiment of depression.
Except her face. It spoke multitudes. Angela had stationed herself at the end of the pew near the wall, folding her hands and bowing her head in prayer. Perry glanced up as subtly as he could every now and then to watch the emotions pass over her features. She was a shattered woman – any idiot with a soul could tell you that. But Perry could see deeper. She was blaming herself too much for all of this.
Closing the book with a light thud, Perry descending the step and nonchalantly walked to stand beside her.
Angela did not acknowledge him.
Perry waited.
Minutes passed. Angela kept her head bent and Perry let his eyes peruse the ceiling and the glass pictures he had stared at so many times, never quite losing the awe factor they could inspire.
Finally, the woman let out a sigh.
"I'm tired, Perry."
Perry nodded. "I would imagine so. Giving up yet?"
Angela smirked. "You know me too well to ask."
"I had to try."
"…You're a good friend, Perry."
He didn't have a reply to that.
"Too good." She added.
"Why are you here?" Perry asked, changing the uncomfortable subject of his stolid loyalty. Other than Mira, Angela was the only patron in town to continually visit the church on a daily basis. Perry could see Angela's faith was strong, but he was afraid it may have wavered in the months she had not shown her face. Seeing her now, those doubts had melted – she hadn't really changed. But at the same time, everything had changed. This wasn't the same woman he loved so dearly.
Do not be mistaken – Perry himself was for a time. He thought he truly loved Angela as a man. For a time. He was almost willing to break his vows for her. A girl like Angela wasn't seen every day, every month, every year, every lifetime. She was special. But as time drew on, Perry discovered who she was. The intrigue faded with persistence and memory and Angela was suddenly the girl he had always seen; only now in her true light. She was weak. She was a show, a front, a façade. Angela was never the person she showed people. The blinding light she had once been to him had suddenly flipped and flopped – tossed aside it seemed. He was still loyal – to the end. But his romantic interests were gone. Angela needed someone as sturdy as she. And so Perry would do his part and love her as a friend could.
Angela stared at the windows and smiled. "I've come to pray. I thought it was obvious."
Brought back from his recollections, Perry decided to play her game. "You can pray anywhere, Angela."
"I like it here best."
"Why?"
"It's… quiet."
"So is your home."
"Do you want me to leave?"
"I would never suggest such a thing." He denied.
Angela smiled. "I don't deserve to pray… It's so foolish. I think you'd hate me."
"Miss Angela – you can tell me anything." Perry insisted gently.
Angela had her eyes locked somewhere in the stained glass. Trying to trace her line of sight, Perry had to guess it was on the Harvest Goddess. In a dreamy, far off voice, she said: "I was asking for a miscarriage."
Perry's skin went cold. It was very dark for her.
Angela giggled. "Not exactly mother material, am I?" She pried her eyes away and looked to Perry to read his face. He was good at hiding his emotions, too – perhaps better considering she hadn't seen through him all these years – but she couldn't find anything in the etched stone that held his eyes.
"No good comes from such thoughts, Angela." He stated grimly.
"I know." She answered shortly. "I just hate… to think of brining up a child… into this."
"I understand why." Perry had to agree. "Life will be hard. But you cannot forget that this is not the child's fault. And not completely yours either."
Angela's eyes went icy. "That's not true."
Perry wasn't about to let the subject drop now that it had gotten this far though. He persisted. "What of the man, Angela?"
She took notice, pretending not to hear him.
"What has he to say in his defense? You are the only defense he has. That and his cowardice."
She stared at the walls, thinking they were more interesting at the moment.
"Why shield him?"
Angela did not answer.
Distressed, Perry made a very un-Perry-like move, finally put over the edge from her silence. He turned to her and roughly forced her shoulders to face him. "Tell me – look at me, Angela – tell me why!"
Calm and irritatingly complacent, Angela replied: "I deserve this. I cheated on my husband."
"He's just the sinner you are! Both of you had wronged – what makes him different from you?"
"I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I should have gone after him. I didn't. I had an affair. I harbor a filthy child."
"For the love of God, Angela, tell me this isn't love talking!" Perry begged, almost ready to cry. "You've thrown everything away for this. For this! For a man who couldn't care less about his own wife to go looking for entertainment in you! We could've had this hushed up. We could've set you aside for awhile. You could've had the child – I could've raised it in the church. No one would ever have to know! You could be normal! You could be free of this! You…! You… Never… have to know…"
Perry released her shoulders after realizing how desperate he had become. It was so wrong. He couldn't visit his best friend because people would talk. Everything was talk now. "Where have the days gone…?" He muttered, sinking into the pew behind him.
Before he knew it, Angela was sitting beside him with a comforting hand on his knee. Covering one hand with his face to try to calm himself, Angela pulled the hand aside and stroked his cheek, smiling with tears in her eyes. "Darling, Perry! Your soul is too good to be caught up in this!"
Perry tried to pull away, but she continued, holding his shoulder now. "Know this my dearest friend – he was aware. So fully, God-awfully sentient! So guilty… He feels the same as I do. We never wanted any of this to happen – it just did!"
Sitting up straighter, he leaned forward and pulled his friend into a much needed hug for the both of them. So stunned from open human affection, Angela wrapped her arms around Perry and sobbed, holding him almost painfully tight.
Perry let her cry for awhile before finally pulling away and examining her blotched face. She was done now – almost completely registered to the persona she had when she arrived. Simply cracked around the edges; instead of the pieces he just saw momentarily fall apart.
"But… why? When the both of you were married? …Why?"
Angela shook her head, taking in a deep breath. "Oh, Perry! Marriage… didn't matter anymore. At a certain point… I… I'll just say this: we both happened to be looking. And we somehow... found each other."
