venerdì, marzo 10, 2006


By Eddie G.

Chloe sat quietly in her living room, her hands cupped onto her chin. She was waiting eagerly for someone to call, but the phone showed no inclination of complying to her whim. With her elbows resting on her knees, she stared at it with great intensity, almost as if telepathically willing the phone to ring. It did not.

There was a sudden rush of air behind her, but that did not take her vice-like attention away from that phone. Why wasn't he calling? Didn't he realize that she still thought of him with every waking moment of her life?

"Ring, damn you! RING!" she hissed.

"Talking to inanimate objects again, aren't we?" mused a voice from behind her. It was a voice that she was familiar with. And truthfully, it was a voice she also wanted to hear. Although it was not the voice that she had been desperately waiting for at the other end of the telephone, this one would suffice for now.

"What are you doing here, Angel?" she asked without looking back.

Many of her friends believed Angel to be a figment of Chloe's imagination, just like how a 5-year-old would normally have the tendency to make up an imaginary friend. But Chloe was convinced that Angel existed, and that was all that mattered to her. Suspicions arose when, like Batman and Bruce Wayne, Chloe and Angel were never seen together by Chloe's friends before, and yet she would always talk about him. She felt that Angel too, wherever his world may be did the same, and received the same strange looks from his friends.

"I heard your sigh from miles away and decided to come and cheer you up," Angel declared.

"That's sweet of you, Angel," she sighed, "but I'm afraid even you can't help me now."

Angel sat down on the sofa and put his arm around her.

"Try me," he grinned. It was a grin that always made Chloe smile. And this time was no exception.

"He hardly ever calls me anymore," she lamented, "and all I want is to hear his voice again."

"Oh? And whose fault is this that, pray?"

Chloe pouted. "Look, if you're supposed to be cheering me up, you're doing a sterling job," she said.

"Now, now," coaxed Angel, "before you start pointing your finger at the whole damn cruel world in general, let's take time to reflect on why you think he's not been calling, shall we?"

Chloe chewed her lip briefly. She hated it when Angel made her think like that, but she let her mind work through the possibilities. It was more productive than attempting to apply telekinesis on the telephone anyway.

"I really can't think of a reason why he wouldn't call," she said finally.

"Why don't you call him, then?"

"Because…" she hesitated, "because I'm scared." It was almost a whisper.

Angel merely nodded.

"So you're telling me that… he's scared. But what is he scared of?" she pressed.

"The same thing that you are scared of, my dear."

Suddenly the revelation hit her, and she stood to her feet for the first time in hours. "He's afraid that he might not be able to let go of me!"

Angel remained seated stoically on the sofa, and merely nodded again.

Chloe felt as if a huge weight had been removed from around her ankles. Happily she picked up the phone and began to dial.

"Who are you calling at this hour?" Angel queried, although he already half-knew the answer.

Chloe did not reply him, but merely waited for the line on the other to get through. "Hello?" she said, "yea hi! It's me. I was thinking if you'd like to, you know, go out for some coffee? Um… how about right now? Sounds great! Okay, see you in bit then! Byeee!"

Upon replacing the receiver, she did a happy little spin.

"Alright, Angel. I'm going out now. I'll see you in a bit, yea?" she said.

Angel again merely nodded. It was almost as if his energy and cheer had been transferred to Chloe, and in return he was bearing what once used to be her melancholy.

That was the role of the martyr, he reminded himself, but someone had to carry the burden.

"Have fun, dear," was all he could say.

It was about three hours later when Chloe returned to her apartment. Angel still sat there stoned on her sofa, a bottle of whiskey opened in front of him.

"Hey! I'm back! Guess what? I…" her voice trailed off, "have you been drinking, Angel?"

Angel giggled, clearly inebriated. He looked her in the eye for a good thirty seconds.

"No," he said finally with drunken determination.

Chloe gave a quiet sigh as she tried to remove the bottle away from his hands.

"Leave me alone!" snarled Angel, slapping her hand away angrily.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she fumed, "are you out of your mind?"

Angel staggered to his feet. "Chloe," he said, placing his hand firmly on her shoulder, "there is… something… I want… to tell you!"


"Chloe, I… I…" he hesitated for a while, not knowing what to say. "Chloe, I really..." No, that's not going to work either "Chloe, I..." ah screw it! "I think I may be drunk," he said, and then he passed out on the sofa.

Chloe brought out a couple of blankets from her room, and covered the sleeping Angel. It was most peculiar indeed, this sudden change of behaviour from him. Gently, she knelt beside him and stroked him on the forehead. He was sleeping serenely now, and Chloe felt sure that the even the most tumultuous of tempests would not wake him.

"Goodnight, Angel," she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

She dimmed the lights and headed to her room, closing the door behind her.

Ye who seek for audience, let ye speak now!

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