A halo of cigarette smoke floats above my head."Jesus Christ! You scared me to death!"
She giggles and bourbon dribbles down her chin because she missed her mouth with the shot glass ... obviously pleased she frightened me.
She makes me laugh ... which makes her laugh ... which makes us laugh together.
"HEY!" she screams at the choir of cicada ... "SHUT UP!"
Suddenly it's a silent night, holy night.
"How did ..." I begin ... then stop and suspiciously ask, "what do you want?"
Pointing the lit cigarette tip directly at me, taking a long draw from the tall boy PBR, then wiping her mouth with a dirty sleeve ... she spits a logy over the rail and replies, "I'm just making sure you're okay."
"Where the Hell you been?" I ask propping my tanned feet on the rail beside her pasty white toes.
"Well," she sighs while taking a long draw from the cigarette ... "actually I've been in Hell. Other people's Hell."
One cicada starts to sing and she snaps her head in that direction ... and all is silent and holy again.
"Did you help?" I ask ... giving her a once over ... same oily black hair draping over skinny shoulders, wearing a dirty white robe falling to one side almost exposing her breast ... cigarette, shot glass miraculously full of bourbon and a tall boy PBR that never runs out.
"That's my job," she sighs blowing smoky halos in the air.
"Got another one of those?" I ask ... and from nowhere she hands me a frosty tall boy PBR.
"Just stopping by to check on you," she says. "I've been so damn busy ... Bar Church ... the Tybee Island Methodist Church and its obsession with yellow crime scene tape ... Georgia Kyle ... being there whenever anybody you love dies ... Jimmy Cochran ... there's a lot more to being a Guardian Angel that most people think."
Smirking my face and shrugging my shoulders I toast her PBR with mine and confess, "I couldn't do it."
Nodding in agreement she says, "You're actually the problem."
"What does that mean?" I snap.
"Do you realize," she thoughtfully explains, "the more people you love and care about ... the more work it means for me?"
"Hmmm," I mumble not knowing what to say.
"HEY SING A QUITE ONE!" she commands and the Cicada softly hum Cat Stephens' "Morning has broken."
"Well isn't that what we're supposed to do?" I ask. "Love God by loving others?"
"Yeah," she sighs, taking another shot, "Who knew you were so good at it?"
"Yeah, Sarah tells me that," I respond sipping the beer.
"Speaking of Sarah," my Guardian Angel says standing up, "where is she? I need to talk to her."
"She's at work," I shrug.
"Aw, that's right," she says knocking her forehead with her hand. "You've got me so busy I forgot."
"You want me to tell her something?"
"Yeah," she says sipping her beer, "it's time for my annual vacation. She's going to have to be in charge for a couple of weeks ... so I can recharge."
"I don't know," I say. "She's pretty busy these days and trying to figure out when she's going to do her two mile run in everyday and Yoga at night."
Sitting forward she blows smoke in my face, causing me to cough and hack.
"Just give her the message," my Guardian Angel spits.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I say waving off the smoke, "I'll tell her."
"Fine," she says disappearing.
The choir of cicada suddenly burst into "The Hallelujah Chorus.
"HEY" I yell into the sky. "WHERE YOU GOING?"
I can't tell if she replies because the choir of cicada transition into "Rock me Amadeus."
