Hopes Of Fictious Angels

Underneath Mary’s feet, her father was dispersed into the Earth as were his wishes. There was a selfish part of Mary that felt she might want her father to be at least a thing. If she had her druthers, her father would be alive but she would accept her father, the idol deep under unseen. As it was, she felt rather silly talking to his stone, knowing that there was nothing but healthy soil beneath it.

The stone she gave him was marvelous, in contrast to his wishes. He wanted a simple pine marker, but she gave him a beautiful epitaph carved into a bolder. She rationalized this in that she would be the one that looks at it, she would be the one that talks to it and he wouldn’t really have to deal with it much.

Every Sunday, near two in the afternoon, she argued with the man that wasn’t there. She had argued with him so much in the years he was there, that she knew his answers as rote. This proved amazing on that one Sunday. Mother had been troubled but easy to reason with. However, Mary was shocked to find that Gary Sampson had known his daughter to be a lesbian.

As she went through the conversations in her head, the discourse moved through the men he never approved of and that wanting face he on more than one occasion had noted she had.It went through those vintage magazines he had reclaimed from her room after being purloined from his stash. It ended in a creaking sound she had heard while frenching Sarah Campbell in the comforts of Mary’s bedroom.

The whole thing kept in key with his usual covert knowledge that he was always hinting at coyly, hoping to get her to solve a riddle. Mary had always sucked at puzzles and usually just happened into her answers. As it was, her answer was at the very edge of the plot. Christine had a shadow like an upside down broom, and strawberry blond hair shining in the afternoon light. Mary knew that she would have to kiss that girl soon. For her part, Christine thought her stubby blond cherub’s actions were baffling but she knew the crazy woman to be worth it.

As they left for the car and home, Mary found herself wondering about her father’s angels which he knew to be real and she knew to be false. She hoped he had them, despite her knowledge to the contrary.


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