In The Company of Angels
I quickly checked the clock on the stove as I dried off my hands. The red numbers glowed 7:03. Only twenty-seven minutes left.
Tonight, everything had to be perfect because she was perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, but perfect for me. Thoughts of the first time I saw her flashed into my mind. I don’t remember it quite the same, but she swears I said, “I was hoping maybe meeting me would be nice and you have pretty smile.” Maybe I did. I had never been more nervous in my life. Mortals have no place in the company of angels.
A dim reflection eyed me from the kitchen window as my mind returned to the present. I did my best to judge my appearance through her eyes. The 2-day stubble that she joked took me a week to grow was gone. My brown hair looked almost black with the gel that held it in a tight faux hawk. I straightened my already straight tie and pulled my eyes away from my reflection to examine the rest of my outfit. Black pants hid a brand new pair of black dress socks. I chuckled to the sound of her voice echoing in my head, “You can’t wear brown socks with a black suit! It’s tacky…”
Shaking away the memory, I retrieved the salad from the countertop and took it into the dining room. A deep fear that something was missing rested heavily on my stomach. I walked through my mental checklist for what seemed like the hundredth time. Tall white candles stood like twin guardians over the table. The Justin Bieber cd that played softly would have ruined the mood for anyone else, but I knew that it was secret pleasure of hers. Every detail had been meticulously planned, down to the bread from DiMaggio's. She had talked about the restaurant for a month before I could finally get a reservation.