Angela

Angela - a short story by LJ Kundananji

Just to help the suicidal young lady to know how those she loves would feel if she left.

 

“You can never forget someone you love,” Charles breathed. He walked to the window and stared outside with a mournful expression. “For the rest of your life, you carry their memories in your heart.”

“I disagree,” Francis said with a chuckle of indifference “I think it is possible to forget about someone if you really want to.”
Charles stared at his friend with a sigh, a sad distant look in his eyes.
“Have you ever lost someone you love before?”
Francis raked his mind for a while, and then said: “Not really.”
“No wonder you say that,” he said in a low despondent tone.
Francis looked up at him with a look of sympathy. “Have you ever lost someone?”
Charles nodded and flopped onto the sofa next to his friend. He clasped his hands and bowed his head for a few moments.
“Have I ever told you about Angela?” He asked in a plaintive tone.
“I believe you haven’t.” Francis revealed, an intense curiosity spreading across his face. He pulled up a chair and placed his feet on it. His soiled socks sent an awful stench in Charles’s direction, but he was too despondent to smell it.
“Angela,” he breathed, suddenly grasping at the air in frustration. “Angela was the love of my life, but Angela left me… she left me.”
In as much as it was touching, Francis had to try with all his might to smoother a laugh. It was obviously going to be nothing more than the proverbial story of loving someone who eventually breaks your heart.
“Tell me what she did to you,” he prodded when his friend fell into a stance of silent contemplation.
Charles looked up at him, the expression on his face so miserable that it unsettled him for a moment or two.
“It was during my third year at university when I came to know Angela,” he said with a distant, reminiscing look in his eyes, simultaneously a slight smile spreading across his face.  “It was funny, really, the way I met her. I was at the computer lab, checking my mail. There was this pretty girl seated on the opposite computer. I did not pay any attention at her—at first, that is.”
He paused, wiped away the tear that was forming at the edge of his eye, and chuckled. Presently, he said:
“After a while, I felt eyes on me. I looked up and noticed her eyes—round, white and wide—staring timorously at me from above the monitor. When they met with mine, she looked down quickly. But during those brief moments that our eyes met, I felt the strangest surge of excitement run through my body.
“I did not think much of it at first. But when I caught her staring at me a third and a fourth time, I knew that something was aloof; and each time, she would quickly avert her eyes when they met mine; and each time, when I looked into her eyes, I could not help feeling a strange excitement...”
“Love at first sight!” Francis laughed.
“Hmm, so you can imagine the thoughts which were now raging in my head.
“‘She likes me,’ I was thinking. ‘She definitely likes me!’
“I could not help it of course. I had never got such attention from any female before, so this was downright exciting. I got so excited that I could hardly concentrate on what I was doing. In fact, I could not see a single thing on the computer screen e’en though my eyes were staring at it.
“I kept stealing glances at her from the corner of my eyes till she finally looked up at me. This time, she did not look away when our eyes met, and neither did I. Instead she smiled.
“‘Hi,’ I managed to say.
“‘Hi,’ she said back in a soft, gentle voice. By now, my blood was rushing with excitement, and my heart was beating in my ears.
“‘As we stared at each other, I noticed that her eyes were directed towards my hair. Then she said in a whisper, quite shyly, ‘I just wanted to tell you that… uh… there is something in your hair.’
“Instinctively, I quickly ran my hand through my hair. Imagine my shock and embarrassment when I pulled out a long string of cotton wool!
“‘Thanks,’ I said, almost chocking with sheer humiliation. From that moment on, I never looked up at the girl again.”
Francis was reeling all over the sofa with laughter. Tears streaked down his face.      
“You thought she was staring at you because she liked you, but she was only staring at the cotton in your head!” He gasped, grasping his friend on the shoulder and rocking him back and forth.
“She did like me, alright,” Charles stated in a matter-of-fact way as he brushed off Francis’ hand from his shoulder. “The cotton actually worked to my advantage because it made her notice me.
“After that, I could not do much, because I was too distraught. I quickly walked out of the lab, hanging my head in shame. I had barely walked a metre when I heard a voice behind me calling my name. I turned sharply, only to see the very girl, walking briskly in my direction. She walked up to me and stared into my face with the sweetest smile I had ever seen.
“‘Charles,’ she said softly, ‘I need a guy’s help with something.’
“So stunned I was that I could neither say a word nor breathe for like ten seconds. I just gaped at her with bulging eyes; my whole body felt limp, as though I had been struck by a bolt of lightning. Finally, I managed to breathe and mumble, rather incoherently, ‘How… do you know my name?’
“‘Sorry,’ she said apologetically, ‘I should have mentioned it. My roomie is in one of your classes, so she talks about you quite a lot… I once saw you together after classes, and she later told me that you were the famous Charles.’
“By now there was an awful noise in my head, and I could hardly believe what I was hearing.
“‘Who is your roommate?’ I asked in disbelief.
“‘Sandra,’ was her astonishing reply.
“‘Sandra!’ I exclaimed, covering my mouth with my hand.
“‘Yeah.’
“‘Sandra is your roommate?!’
“‘Yeah.’
“‘And she talks about me, you said?’
“‘Mm hmm.’
“‘What does she say about me?’ I was intensely curious. You know, Sandra was one of those girls I assumed never gave a single care in the world about me. I imagined that she ne’er e’en knew that I existed. She was extremely pretty, and I only admired her from the distance.
“‘She says that you are very smart and that you are good at fixing things.’ The girl replied, her eyes bulging with amusement.
“‘Really?’ I was dumbfounded. So she did notice me! There was a time I had pulled out a screw driver from my pocket and tightened one of the loose electrical fittings in class. It was amazing that she did notice that apparently insignificant act. This revelation bolstered my esteem, and, in a very peculiar manner, made my nervousness vanish.
“‘I am not so good,’ I said with a smile.
“‘I was hopping you are,’ she said with desperation across her pretty face. ‘I really do need your help.’
“‘It’ll depend,’ I said, ‘there are things I can fix, and those I can’t. If you allow me, I can check what it is that you want me to fix, then I can tell you if I can do it or not.’
“‘Yes please,’ she said in a relieved tone, ‘It’s in my room, if you care to come with me.’
“‘I do.’
“‘What’s the name, by the way?’ I asked as we walked along the corridor with me at her heels.
“‘Angela,’ she said as she turned her head. It was at that moment that I noticed how beautiful a profile she had; her small rounded nose glistening with sweat. 
“‘Beautiful name,’ I said in a dreamy manner, without even realizing what I had actually said.
“‘Thanks,’ she said with a giggle that made my heart miss several beats.
“Eventually we reached the room.  When Angela opened the door for me, and I entered, I was no little amazed to find Sandra seated at the table with her head buried in a book. She was a bookworm, that one. She started to her feet when she saw me; she seemed shocked.
“‘Charles!’ she shrieked. ‘Charles! No way!’”
“‘It’s me,’ I breathed.
“‘How?’ she asked, reeling in disbelief.
“‘I brought him,’ Angela declared proudly.
“‘Charles,’ was all Sandra could say. To my amazement, she walked forward and gave me a light hug.
“‘Have a seat, dear, have a seat,’ she said pointing at one of the well-made beds. I sat down and goggled back at her. It was though I had been struck mute by her apparent affection for me. If I had had an idea that she had liked me so much—”
“What would you have done?” Francis interrupted with intense curiosity in his eyes.
Charles sighed with a weary expression. “Nothing. You see, e’en though Sandra was pretty and every guy’s dream girl, for me, someone else had stolen my heart. But I am still telling the story.
“‘Without further ado,’ Angela said, rubbing her hands with obvious pride in her voice, ‘there, on the table, is my radio. It suddenly stopped working. Will you take a look at it?’
“‘Sure thing,’ I said getting up and walking towards it. All this while, Sandra’s eyes were on me. She was nothing but astounded. I have never seen a girl look so astounded before. It was as though I were Brad Pitt and had appeared suddenly in her room…”
At this point, Francis returned to his violent spasms of laughter. But, unperturbed, Charles continued the story. It was no longer just about telling a mere story, no. Rather, it was like re-living the most wonderful moments of his vain life.
“‘I need to get my tools,’ I suddenly said as I ran my fingers along the pretty machine.
“‘As long as you come back,’ Angela laughed but with worry in her voice that I could easily discern. ‘The last guy said the same thing, but when he left, he never returned.’
“‘Trust me—I will be back so soon that you will think I never left!’
“‘You are funny,’ she giggled.
“I took that as a compliment and left with a smile. When I returned, barely a minute later, I was surprised to find Angela alone. She welcomed me merrily.
“‘Where is Sandra?” I asked, raising my brows.
“‘Gone to the library.’
“‘Oh,’ was all I said. For the next few moments, I worked in silence, and Angela was staring at me with green envy as I wielded my screw drivers and tester with remarkable prowess…”
Francis chuckled and shook his head with slight derision.
“As I worked, I took it upon myself to find out more about this pretty girl, Angela. Of course, she was not as beautiful as Sandra, but there was something about her that was both warm and enchanting, and her large, white, round eyes did nothing but enamour me. I asked her questions that she answered enthusiastically. But when I asked her about her family, she went all cold and downhearted. An awful melancholy fell over her and she stared at the floor in silence.
“‘My parents are both dead,’ was her cold reply. When she looked up, her eyes were teary red. I was so touched I almost burst into tears myself.
“‘I am so sorry,’ I said, putting my tools down and walking to the bed opposite her. I sat down and leaned forwards towards her.
“‘I’m so sorry,’ I said as I grasped her hands and gently caressed them. This sent her into heavy blubbering, with the tears streaking down her face in streams. My heart went out to her completely. I swung to her side and put my arm around her shoulder. Her head fell forward onto my chest, and her tears wetted my shirt, but I did not care.
“‘They died when I was six—they were killed in a road accident; and ever since, l have stayed with my mean Aunt Betty who treats me like a slave.’ Though she was sobbing heavily, somehow, she managed to pour out this heart-rending story, which touched me to the core of my very soul.
“‘Ever since I was six, she’s made me live in fear and misery. She gives me mountains of chores, restricts my freedom, and doesn’t allow me to go anywhere.’
“‘But you are here, at university,’ I said with slight amusement, ‘she obviously is too far away to cause you more misery.’
“‘You wish!’ she said, pulling herself away. She sat upright, wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. ‘She moved to the city, bought herself a house so that she could be near me; and every weekend, she demands that I go home to do the chores that she allows to pile up each week. She also demands that I give her a goodly amount of my allowance each month.’
“‘Gosh!’ I exclaimed, almost jumping, ‘What kind of aunty is that?’
“‘Evil and mean,’ she said with a scowl as her sobbing reduced in intensity, ‘she claims that my parents did not leave enough money to look after me, so she demands that I start paying back.’
“‘But out of your allowance?’ I said in indignation, ‘she should not do that.’
“‘She can do anything she wants,’ she blurted out, closing her eyes and biting her lip.
“I suddenly softened and took her hand. I stared into her eyes affectionately. ‘I’ll do everything in my power to help,’ I said sincerely.
“‘She stared at the floor and smiled. She did not say a word for a while. But then she finally said, ‘Sorry for loading you with my problems. I’m sure you have got your own too. I’ll be fine—I’m a big girl.’ 
“‘I wish I could believe that,’ I said sombrely.
“‘I am used to it,’ she said, wiping away the tears from her temples.
“‘After what I’ve heard and seen, I doubt that very much.’
“She stared at me with a coldness that sent shivers up my spine. Then she quickly said, ‘Anyway, how’s the radio doing?’
“I instinctively knew that she did not want to talk about it any further. I grudgingly got up and walked back to the radio, which I had taken apart.
“‘Um, I just have to replace the fuse and it will be back to square one,’ I revealed.
“‘Really?’ Her eyes glowed with such excitement that it was hard to believe that this was the very girl who had been blubbering a little while ago.   
“‘Yeah,’ I said heavily. I reached out for my bag and pulled out a little box where I kept all kinds of fuses. I opened it and instantly my eyes fell upon the one I needed to complete this operation.
“‘Oh goody, Charles!’ Angela squealed, clapping her hands merrily.
“I stared long and hard at her and said, ‘Angela, can you go out with me sometime?’ But when she did not respond, I realized that I had said it in my head. I opened my mouth and was just about to say the same words, but louder this time, when the door flung wide open and in walked a tall, slim girl with wild eyes and a face drenched with misery.
“‘Angie,’ she said breathlessly, ‘I need help with the assignment.’
“‘What? You are not done yet?’ Angela asked in amazement.
“‘No, I could not answer the questions; please help me!’ She flopped on the bed beside Angela and opened her books with a pleading expression on her face.
“‘Charles,’ Angela said, looking up at me, ‘you don’t mind working as I help Martha, do you?’
“‘No,’ I said, faking a smile. I closed my box and dropped it into my pocket. ‘Actually, I’d have to come tomorrow. I have to look for the right fuse first.’
“‘Okay,’ she said, staring at me with those bulging eyes of hers. ‘That is fine.’
“And so I gathered all my tools and left.”
“Hold on,” Francis said suddenly. He was now listening fervently and with a more sympathetic disposition. “Didn’t you say you had the right fuse?”
“Yeah, I did,” he chuckled, “But I needed a reason to go back.”
“Oh, very clever,” Francis said musingly. 
“Any way, I was back the following day. I found her with Sandra, who was no less amazed to see me again. As I pretended to be all busy opening this and that, and cleaning that and this, I listened in to the girls’ conversation.
“‘I hope you won’t try to kill yourself again,’ I heard Sandra say with a motherly sternness. I started upon hearing this, but went on working as if I hadn’t heard a thing.
“‘With good guys like Charles around, how could I even think it?’ she said in a deliberately loud voice so that I could hear.
“‘You almost died last time; this time ’round I won’t be there to rescue you.’
“At this point, my curiosity got the better of me. I quickly span around and goggled at the girls.
“‘Pardon my intrusion in you affairs,’ I said, ‘but did I hear right? Did one very beautiful Angela try to do the most insane thing of taking her life?’
“‘She exaggerates,’ Angela blurted out defensively, ‘I did no such thing!’
“‘Yeah, you did,’ Sandra hissed, ‘what do you call taking ten pills of painkillers at the same time?’
“‘I had an awful headache,’ she said in a low voice with gave away her guilt. ‘I just wanted to drown away my pain as quickly as I could.’
“‘Well, that was a foolish thing to do, Angie,’ I said gently but empathetically, remembering that her life was not all roses, but rather, the thorns of roses.
“‘I won’t do it again,’ she said, batting her eyelids rapidly.
“‘I hope so,’ Sandra said skeptically, ‘and I hope you won’t be inclined to do so when a bout of depression hits you ’gain.’
“‘Nay,’ she said in a breathy voice, ‘if Charles fixes my radio, I will have no reason to feel depressed anymore.’”
“Upon hearing this, I immediately placed the fuse in its place and tied up the radio again. I plugged it in an’ switched it on, an’ blaam! It was working once more.
“You should have seen the amazement on the girls’ faces. They gave me hugs and danced around merrily.
“‘Oh Charles,’ Angie exclaimed with sheer and overriding joy, ‘I don’t know how I can repay you!’
“‘Just… don’t be sad anymore,’ I said.
“That, I must confess, was the happiest day of my life. I had cheered up a despondent girl—what more could anyone ask for?
“Angela escorted me part way to my room, and just before we parted, she said:
“‘Hey, thanks for all.’ Her eyes were literally shining with happiness.
“‘Don’t mention it,’ I said, ‘I’m just glad I could be of help.’
“‘Yeah, and because of you I feel happier than I have ever felt in years.’
“Suddenly, I took her hand and stared affectionately into her eyes.
 “‘Angela,’ I said, ‘Tell me the truth—have you ever felt like taking your life?’
“She looked down quickly, her body growing all tense. ‘I just feel so miserable sometimes,’ she confessed, ‘so miserable that I feel like taking away my life…I think it’s better to die and leave this cruel world.’
“‘Look at me,’ I said, lifting her chin, ‘I am there for you. I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”
“Her eyes glistened with tears as she looked up into my face, and at that moment, it struck me just how pretty she was. I felt all the more love for her.
“‘I’ll help you,’ I said squeezing her hand, ‘Just trust me.’
“‘I am not sure if I can,’ she revealed pulling away her hand. ‘You are not the first boy to tell me that.’
With that, she turned and walked away. At that moment, all I wanted was to run after her, to embrace her, to tell her how much I loved her, but I just stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at her with a wide stare as she gracefully walked away. But then she suddenly stopped, turned, and said:
“‘If you really care about me, then in the morrow, Broad Bessie, when you can’t see your shadow.’
“She then disappeared around a corner. I was confused. As I walked to my room, the words kept echoing in my head: ‘In the morrow, Broad Bessie, when you can’t see your shadow.’
“For the whole day I repeated the words in my head, but they could not make any sense. The only part which did make a bit of sense was ‘Broad Bessie’. Broad Bessie was the name given to a huge tree by the football pitch, underneath of which was a bench. People oft sat under its shade when watching football.
“The next day, I was still trying to make sense of the riddle Angela had given me,  and by noon, I was still turning it this way and that in my head. It was at 1 o’clock in the afternoon when I finally figured it out. I immediately shot up to my feet and ran out of my room, and like a rocket sped towards Broad Bessie. It finally made sense.
“‘In the morrow’ meant today, and ‘when you can’t see your shadow’ meant at noon. She wanted me to meet her at Broad Bessie at noon! And this was 1 o’clock! What a wretched fellow I was!
“As I ran, I prayed that I would find her, but when I finally reached Broad Bessie, she was not there. Instead, there was a boy who sat reading a book.
“‘Excuse me,’ I said panting heavily and gesturing with my hands, ‘Was there a girl here about this tall and this slim?’
“‘Yes,’ the boy said, putting down his book with a look of amusement on his face. ‘She was here, but she got tired of waiting and headed in that direction.’
“‘Thanks,’ I gasped and ran in the direction of the girl’s hostels. That is where he had pointed anyway. I reckoned that the only place she could be was her room. When I reached the room, I banged heavily on the door. When I had barely heard a ‘come in’, I barged in. I was dumbfounded to find Sandra seated on her bed with tears in her eyes. She was clutching a paper in one hand.
“‘Where is Angela?’ I asked with growing alarm.
“‘I am sorry, Charles,’ she said, handing me the paper, ‘you are too late.’
“My blood froze as I laid my eyes upon the paper. It was a note written by Angela. It said:

 

‘Dearest Charles,

 I am sorry I have to do this. I can not bare the pain and misery anymore. I grew tired of waiting, and so I concluded that I can’t trust you at all, huh? By the time you will be reading this, I will be gone, and I will be at peace.’

“‘Where is she?’ I said, my eyes flooding with tears, ‘where is she?’ 
“‘I am sorry,’ Sandra said, crying openly, ‘she is gone; she is gone, Charles.’
“‘No!’ I cried. ‘That’s not true!’
“‘Look, she ran home about a half hour ago. I called her aunt, and all she said before she hung up was that ‘the little brut is dead.’ I’m so sorry, but there is nothing you could do about it.’
“I stared at her in sheer disbelief as she cried. I hopelessly flopped on the bed beside her and hugged her. We cried together for several minutes.” He paused as he sniffed and wiped away a tear or two. By this time, Francis was shedding a few tears himself.
“That was six years ago,” Charles finally said. “It was six years ago when I lost Angela, and I have not forgotten about her.”
“So you attended her funeral?” Francis asked slowly, trying to stifle the emotion in his voice.
“No,” Charles said angrily, “By the time Sandra and I arrived at her home a day or two later, her mean aunt told us that she was already dead and buried, like her parents.”
“Wow, that was some fast burial.”
“Just shows how much she detested the girl. She didn’t e’en arrange a descent funeral.”
“That’s sad, and odd at the same time.”
“Angela, my Angela,” Charles moaned and buried his head in his hands.
Francis sighed heavily. He had to admit it: he was touched by this story of a girl who took her own life to end her misery.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
“Will you get that?” Charles said, with his face still buried in his hands.
Francis walked to the door and slowly opened it. He started when he saw a lady standing in the door way. She was tall and pretty with big round white eyes.
“Can I help you ma’am?” He asked.
“Yes, please,” she said almost impatiently, “is this where Charles stays?”
“Yes please,” Francis said, “come in.”
He showed her in.
“Charles,” he called, “you have a visitor.”
But Charles was already looking up. On his face was the craziest look he had ever seen before. It was a blend of all the emotions in the world. He shot to his feet and stood shuddering like a leaf all over; his face was bleached, and he was staring at the lady with wild eyes, as if he were seeing a ghost.
“Angie?” He said with in a tone that sent all of the hair on Francis’ body standing on end.
“Charles!” the lady shrieked running forward and almost tripping on the shoes that Francis had carelessly left on the floor. She hurled herself at Charles and enfolded him tightly. The two blubbered on each other’s shoulders.
“Angie!” Charles exclaimed in sheer disbelief as he loosed her and held her by the shoulders to take a good look at her. “You have come back from the dead!”
“I was not dead, silly!” She exclaimed ecstatically.
“What!” the two men cried at the same time.
“That is what my aunt wanted you to think. I had run away to my cousins in the capital city, and that’s where I have been all this time!”
Charles’s hands dropped limply to his side as he stared back at her with glassy eyes.
“You mean… all this time, you have been around?” He stammered.
“Yes!” She squealed. “Poor Charles! I am sure you have been blaming yourself all this time! I had to run away—as far away from my mean aunt as I could get, else she would have killed me. That is all she ever wanted—to kill me! But now that she is dead, I am free!”
“She is dead?” Charles asked in disbelief.
“Yes, she died in her sleep last September, and when I heard ’bout the rumour she had been spreading, that I died, I was all the more furious. And so I had to find you—to relieve you of all the guilt.”
“Oh Angie,” Charles said as he hugged her tightly again, his tears flowing fast. “I love you so very much. I love you. Don’t leave again.”
“I won’t, dearest Charles; I won’t.”
“I figured it out,” he said in a whisper, a smile spreading across his face. ‘Broad Bessie, at noon—only I figured it out too late.”
“No,” she whispered back, “this place right here, this very spot on which we stand, is Broad Bessie; and this time, this very time at which we stand, is noon.”
“Then may it always be noon, Angela my angel.”

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