I was standing outside the hotel lobby, holding on to the luggage carousel. Waiting for my traveling coworkers to untangle the mess of reservations, anticipating the rest I'd earned, after crawling under church pews taping down cables, assembling cameras, and trudging up and down stairs. And more stairs. In short, I was tired and intent on thwarting any thieves even contemplating sprinting off into the steamy night with my bag, holding all my bubblebath and also important items such as deodorant and clean socks.
She came through the sliding doors, a burst of icy air. I smelled her - a tiny older woman, later she would tell me she was 68, could I tell and no I could NOT - before she was within speaking distance, that distinct perfume of desperation and cocktails. I spoke to her first, as I was conspiciously taking up a lot of space whatwith the luggage, and her story spilled out all over the sidewalk.
"Did you see that nice grey-haired man? He's supposed to pick me up." I shook my head and said maybe he would be here soon, and she laughed. "I've been chasing him all night," she conspired, "and I did give him a little pinch." Then she went on - he had an English accent, oh yes, how lovely, and he was supposed to take her across the street for another party. The smell of alcohol was so strong on her that I seriously wondered how much more partying she could take.
"I'm from Yazoo City, " she volunteered, "but I've lived in Oxford for a long time, and I was an Ole Miss girl." She was perfectly put together, in a very boutiqued sort of fashion. There were diamonds flashing from her ears, neck, and one very large ring loading down her hand. I made appreciative mumurings about Oxford (which is such a beautiful town) and then her story became this crazy quilt of plot lines. Her marriage, which veered from wonderful - "I was a bride for ten years"- to disasterous -"I caught him gambling on the Internet, I had no idea until later how much money he'd lost, I'd been spending so much time with Daddy but now he's gone" - her eyes bright with tears, she had heart trouble, was supposed to go for tests on Monday. "At first I didn't want him there, but now I do, and I can't find him." Oh, you can't get in touch with him, I asked, sympathetic. "No, he's at this halfway house and no one's answering the phone." The words she said so jarred with her appearance, this woman who I towered over, hazy with drink, lost without love. She confessed that she was considering driving herself to him, but she tended to "get lost in a paperbag." I told her that she should be very careful, and take care of herself. In the midst of her story, I introduced myself, and told her that I would pray for her tests, and for her to find her husband. When I turned my head, she was gone. No car had come and gone, my memory is blank as to why I turned away from her. I just know that I blinked, and then she was no more.
I can't help but wonder if she was an angel, and if I entertained her well.
Oh, Sam - What a poignant tale! Was she an angel or was she a poor soul caught in between this world and the next, weighed down by all her baggage? I'd like to think it's your take on the situation - in which case, I think you entertained her well - I know I'm always entertained by your writing :)
Posted by: tinker | Monday, July 17, 2006 at 06:14 AM
You know how I feel about the reality of angels. You did entertain her well, and with compassion and love that simply oozes out of you. One of the biggest tests is whether or not you are paying attention - and you definitely were, with your sore, aching muscles and sleepy eyelids - you definitely had the depth of heart to pay attention. You passed the test.
Posted by: Rebekah | Monday, July 17, 2006 at 11:00 AM
maybe so...
Posted by: la vie en rose | Monday, July 17, 2006 at 11:57 AM
I feel like I saw her perfectly through you.
Posted by: serena | Monday, July 17, 2006 at 05:04 PM
I SO do believe in angels. She may have been one and you were so kind to her, too. Good one!
Posted by: violetismycolor | Monday, July 17, 2006 at 10:14 PM
what a great story Sam.
I do believe in angels too.
Posted by: Irene | Tuesday, July 18, 2006 at 03:36 AM
GREAT "baggage" story!! I imagine she WAS an angel...maybe the 'test' was whether or not you'd judge her. You didn't, so I'd say you passed. :)
Posted by: Marilyn | Tuesday, July 18, 2006 at 12:15 PM
definitely an angel--
Posted by: Elizabeth | Tuesday, July 18, 2006 at 09:24 PM
I believe in angels too. And also in the fact that every single person we meet, we meet for a reason. We have some sort of destiny with them, in some way.
I just love your writing, Sam.
Posted by: christina | Wednesday, July 19, 2006 at 08:49 AM
You're probably going to hell now. Great.
Actually, you're probably the only one I know besides my girl that could inspire deranged conversations from complete strangers.
Both of you have that going for you!
Hugs, Kisses and Project Runway.
Posted by: keith | Wednesday, July 19, 2006 at 10:17 AM