Angel Eyes

Angel Eyes


by Vanessa Veglio


He had azure-blue eyes and a gaze that warmed like the
sunshine. I don't remember much more than that, but I know that he
changed my life. And even though he was just a vision, I used to wish
he was more than that. I used to wish he was real.


I met Max when I was nineteen, and I knew from that moment
that our destinies were entwined. It sounds romantic, but it wasn't. I
had finished college and was waitressing in Porkys, our local fast-food
restaurant. I hated the place, coming home every night with the smell
of burnt fat in my hair.


Max swaggered through the restaurant door with dark eyes,
coffee-coloured hair and a pinstripe suit. Middle-aged and classy, he
managed the local Estate Agents. I had seen his winning smile through
the lettings window on my route home and as I wandered over to his
table in my hot-pink uniform, his pearly-whites glinted at me in the
sun.


'What would you like?' I asked politely, awkwardly tucking
the hair behind my ears.


'How about a coke, the shepherd's pie and? a date if you're
free Thursday.'


I stammered, 'A date?"


'You're the most beautiful girl in the room,' Max winked.



Well he was so charming, of course I said yes. Pity I didn't
wonder at the time why such a 'charmer' was eating in Porkys. Before
long one date had led to another and then he was whisking me away to
his bachelor pad on the posh side of town. We were married the
following year at Ealing Registry Office with just two witnesses and a
wedding dress he'd found in Loot.


At first Max would spoil me with gifts and take us out for
romantic, candlelit meals, but that didn't last for long. After he
insisted I stop working, we were soon snapping at each other, cooped up
in his flat with nothing in common and the suffocating feeling you get
when you realise you're in the wrong relationship.


One day I tried to leave. I packed my belongings into a
cheap, plastic suitcase and was on my way out when he grabbed me. He
called me names and shook me until everything went dizzy and then he
punched me, right in the face. My head throbbed to the ringing in my
ears and my right eye had swollen so much I couldn't see. I sat sobbing
to myself against the cold hallway wall, while he sauntered into the
living room and switched on Trevor MacDonald. No apology, just an
unspoken promise that I could never leave, or he'd kill me.



Max's beatings became more frequent after that, and so my
visions began. They were subtle at first; uncontrollable flashes of a
man smiling in the distance. Gradually they grew more lucid until I
could see a face with piercing blue eyes. The man gave me comfort and I
would picture his face at night, inventing stories about him that would
send me to sleep. More than anything I wished with all my heart that he
was real, that he would take me away from the hurt and pain, so that I
could be happy. He gave me hope.


Meanwhile, Max's eyes started to narrow with suspicion as we
sat eating our evening meal and I realised that my secret smiles had
been noticed. I sat quietly, saying nothing, and it frustrated his tiny
little mind even more.


'What's wrong with you?' He asked me in the bedroom one
night, slipping out of his shirt to reveal the hairy potbelly that had
formed shortly after the wedding.


'Nothing.'


'Something is. You've been a pain in the arse recently and I
want to know what's wrong with you.'


'Nothing's wrong!' I snapped.


Max grabbed me by the hair, pulling me up so I was facing
him. I remember the smell of cheap aftershave and fresh-mint
toothpaste. Perhaps he thought he was going to get lucky that night. He
lifted my body up higher, gripping my hair so tightly that my scalp
burned.


'You need to learn some respect!'


I cried out, 'Stop, please!'


'Are you sleeping around? Have you found yourself a
fella?'


'No!'


'Tell me what it is then, you slut!' He was shouting through
gritted teeth, yanking me higher with every word. The pain was choking
me and I gasped for breath-----


'Please!' I said, 'N-nothing's going on!'


Max let go and I flopped onto the covers like a rag doll.
With a whimper, I curled up into a ball and tried to blot out his
smell, his touch and that arrogant, smarmy voice.


'Get into bed,' Max barked, which I did; 'And learn some
respect you dumb bitch.'


That night I dreamt of him again. I named him Luke. He was
calling me with a gentle voice and I was trying to reach out but it was
so hard, like moving upwards on a downward escalator. My arms reached
towards him, but he just got further and further away. I longed for his
warmth, knowing that life with him would be so much better, but would I
get the chance to find out?


Six months had passed. Max was ignoring me now, and the only
time we communicated was when he shouted at or hit me. I tried not to
provoke him, cooking his dinners, cleaning the house, but large purple
bruises ran down the length of my back from where he had thrown me
against walls or kicked me until I had screamed for him to stop. The
hate inside me grew and I nourished it with his conceited image. If I
didn't leave I would either go mad or kill him and I wasn't sure which
appealed more.


Luke and I talked in my dreams, about how I could leave Max
and what I would do. That was around the time I started putting money
by, saving it in a shoebox hidden in the wardrobe. While Max was at
work, I waitressed at Porkys again, getting paid cash-in-hand so he
couldn't find a payslip. Each month he would check the accounts, making
sure that nothing got past him and I would feel slightly smug at his
ignorance.


Max returned home meticulously at 5.30pm, so I had an hour to
take a long, hot shower where Luke and I would plan a fantasy life away
from all my pain. I would close my eyes and picture him smiling,
wearing jeans and a soft, v-neck sweater, comforting me with thoughts
of a different life.


After a while I met a waitress at Porkys called Linda, whose
Aunt in Scotland was looking for someone to help manage a hotel. It was
in the middle of nowhere, among the Highlands' emerald hills. Linda
knew about Max and me; she had seen the bruises and the tears and one
day, scribbled the details onto the back of a till receipt. I crumpled
it up into my pocket and walked away.


That afternoon I meandered home, imagining a new life in
Scotland. A chilly breeze was blowing and I pulled my oversized anorak
tightly around me. The streets were quiet and empty. Lost in thought, I
failed to notice Max chatting to a client outside the Estate Agents.
Usually I was smart; taking the back routes, avoiding the places he
would be, but when I looked up, Max saw me. I panicked and ran away,
knowing I was a dead woman.


He was already waiting for me as I walked in, leaning
arrogantly against the door-frame in the hallway.


'Well?' He said in a cold-tone, arms folded.


'Well what?' I replied innocently.


'Do I look stupid? I can smell that pig fat on you a mile
off! Why didn't you tell me you were working in that shit-hole
again?'


'But?' I stuttered, lost for words.


'You dirty lying bitch!'


He lunged for me but I ducked to the side, hearing his body
crash against the wall. I straightened, using the banister to pull
myself up the staircase as my legs trembled.


'Come back here!'


I reached the top of the stairs and dashed into the bedroom,
locking the door. Max was thumping his fists against the wood so hard I
thought it might break. Breathing deeply, I perched on the edge of the
bed and tried to gather my thoughts over his swearing. The number of
times I'd imagined running away from him, talking it over with Luke in
my mind. Did it have to be now?


'Do it?' A voice whispered.


I looked around. 'Luke?'


'Leave him.'


I had spoken to Luke before, but only in my head. Suddenly I
could hear his voice for real, but I didn't question why - I didn't
think - just reached under the bed, pulling out my suitcase and
cramming everything into it: clothes, underwear and jewellery. I took
my money from the wardrobe and stuffed the bulky wads of cash into my
jacket pockets. I was shaking as I did it, realising that finally, this
was it. I was really doing it this time? going to seek out the vision
Luke and I had of a better world.


Clicking the suitcase shut, I rushed over to the window and
heaved up the heavy wooden frame. As the peeling paint scratched my
palms I looked down onto our neglected garden, but it was too high to
jump.


I heard Max grunt as he tried to smash down the door and
glanced in his direction. The only way out was past him and if he
caught me, he would kill me. I'd be in hospital with broken ribs and
bruises like he'd done so many times before, but much worse. I took a
deep breath. This had to be it. Counting down in my head, I got ready
to unlock the door. I'd need to barge past him and then make a run for
it. Three? two? one?


Max stood in front of me, red-faced and wild-eyed. I leapt
forwards, throwing my weight into him, my suitcase flying madly about.
I thought I had made it, until I felt a rush of pain and was falling
down. Max pulled me onto the floor by my hair and then I could see his
face above me, drool trickling from his lips.


'You're dead, you hear me?'


'Max, please.'


'Let her go!'


It was Luke, but that was impossible! His voice was gentle
but commanding, and I watched astounded as Max looked around him. How
could Max have heard it too?


'Go, now!' Luke continued.


I scrambled to my feet, knocking Max away with the case and
stumbling down the stairs. His shouts echoed in my head and I cried out
with fear, but then the front door was open, and I was running down the
pathway, glancing back to see Max fall, landing on hands and knees.
Behind him I glimpsed a figure just like Luke, but when I blinked, he
had gone.


'Sophie!' I heard Max squeal.


Soon afterwards, I changed my name so he could never find me.
I remember laughing as the rusty garden gate flew open and I darted
around the corner, finally free. To this day, I don't know if my
experience with Luke was real - I haven't seen him since. But after
being in Scotland for a while, I met a teacher named Samuel. Sam is
tall and blonde too, and sometimes when the sun shines brightly, I can
see his kind, blue eyes glittering like the stars. And Sam makes me
smile, because I know that he isn't a vision, and I'm happy that he's
real.