His Angel

Chapter 1

I needed a new job. My meager salary working at the dinner in the morning and a fancy restaurant at night was no longer enough. My rent was to increase next week and I can't afford it. I like living in New York City, but I struggled to pay off my expenses even with two jobs. I thought about my small apartment with an elevator that broke as often as it was used. The hallway lights flickered and had not been replaced in two months. The kitchen cupboards are at its breaking point. Its only redeeming quality was that the location was at a safe neighbourhood. I wondered who thought the place deserved to charge its tenants with increased rent.

I sighed deeply as I took Mrs. Santos her order.

"Good morning, Mrs. Santos. The usual breakfast?"

Mrs. Santos was a regular at Daniel's breakfast and lunch diner. I had known her for as long as I had been working at the establishment. She was a sweet old lady around her 70s. She had brown eyes, tan skin and silver hair with a bit of black. She had the kindest smile. The wrinkles she wore around her eyes was evidence. The ones around her mouth was a resume that proved the ease of which it came naturally. It was how she greeted me although the tone to her question hinted concern.

"Is everything alright?"

"Oh nothing to worry yourself over Mrs Santos," I responded with fabricated reassurance not even a fool would be convince.

"Tell me. What is the matter dear?"

"Well..." I was embarrassed to say but confiding in her always made me feel better. "I'm afraid I might have to start sleeping by the sidewalk when the landlord collects my rent." I meant to make it sound like a joke but the desperation that came with it betrayed me. Mrs Santos' face transformed as gravity finally managed to hold it down.

"Oh Angela, you are too young to go through so much. You are a sweet girl, very strong. But you have it so tough."

My head said the looked in her eyes was sympathy of mutual understanding that life was not easy. Nevertheless, I felt it was pity setting me on a blind date with shame, taunting me with my inadequacy. The way my foster parents viewed little Angela. The small girl who made them feel like they were walking on a tightrope. Ever so careful, they would not say the wrong thing and glanced the wrong way. It was a skill they honed to the highest degree of proficiency. A practice that made it unable for them to acknowledge the pain that was little Angela's shadow. However, the cautious distant actually emphasised she was an orphan. An orphan had no one – both lonely and alone. [So, that was why at age 18, almost three years ago, I left my foster home. They were only too eager to get rid of me since I no longer provided a paycheck. Still, it wasn't about money that painted the relief on their face. As if taking off a heavy armor they put on especially for little Angela. I walked out that door, with no certainty of my future, sure there was definitely no lost love between us.

"Angela? You listening? You became so quiet all of sudden," Mrs Santos said, providing a much needed escape from my own thoughts.

"Sorry. I just remembered something. Can you repeat that?" I followed with a forced smile, hopefully, believable enough.

"As I was saying. Why don't you work with me? As you can see, I am not what I use to be. I could use a lot of help. Working as live in housekeeper is a lot of work. I know the salary is not big but it is enough. You don't have to work two jobs and you will have a day off. Plus, rent and food are free."

"Oh no. I couldn't."

"Please. You're doing me a favour. It would be nice to retire from the heavy labour work. You will take a load off my plate."

"Oh Mrs. Santos! If what you're saying is true then you must be an angel from heaven." I sounded like a hyena, but I didn't care. This offer sounded like the solution to my problem and then some.