Chapter 8
H
e-he-hello! Ugh . . . I hate stairs . . .” The woman in the purple dress is panting.
Lucas is standing in his doorway looking slightly confused, because he sees that there are two men standing behind her, and when the men see Lucas, they immediately fall to their knees and start crying.
“Now who are these people?” Lucas sighs the way you do when you’re just starting to realize that you’ll probably never, ever get to finish your video game.
The woman in the purple dress smiles awkwardly, leans forward, and explains in a low voice:
“Well, you know . . . this is a little embarrassing, but I’m in this Facebook group about good neighbors. You know how social media can be so negative, but this is a group where people give examples of all the good things in the world. It’s called Are There Angels? It’s intended to be humorous. It’s a very joyous group, really. So anyway, I posted there about how you’d given me the password to your Wi-Fi. And then I wrote that you were a real angel.”
Lucas tilts his head.
“So you admit it’s my Wi-Fi?”
The woman frowns.
“Let’s not get hung up on that now. You’ve got bigger problems.”
She gestures at the two men. They look like they are worshipping Lucas.
“What’s . . . happening now?” whispers Lucas.
The woman adjusts the purple dress slightly around her stomach.
“Yes, well, I’m just getting to that. So, I’m also in a couple of other Facebook groups like Are There Angels? And unfortunately I accidentally posted the message about you to the wrong group. I posted it in a group called There ARE Angels!, which these two men are members of. It’s, well, how can I put this? It’s not quite as joyous a group as Are There Angels? The members of There ARE Angels! believe that angels are very real. So now . . . well . . . to make a long story short: they believe that you’re an angel.”
Lucas looks at the weeping men, looks back at the woman.
“But I’m not,” he says firmly.
The woman nods apologetically, whispering:
“Of course not. But you see, the problem is that the more you try to explain that, the more these men here will interpret it as proof that you are. It’s very typical of angels to be humble.”
Lucas leans forward, placing his palms on his knees, looking as if he might vomit.
“Please. I just want one free day. I’ve got this new video game, I . . . ,” he begs.
The woman peeks into his apartment and spots his TV.
“Oh? I’ve played that. What level are you on?”
“Thirty-two,” Lucas mutters hopelessly.
“Wow! Wicked! Is it because of your angelic superpowers, do you think?” The woman whistles, impressed.
“I don’t have . . .” Lucas sighs, but the woman has already turned to the weeping men.
“He doesn’t like it when I refer to his superpowers as superpowers. Angels are supersensitive about that, you see.”
At this point Lucas is starting to feel that enough really has to be enough.
“Thank you for coming!” he says.
The woman whispers back:
“What you really mean is ‘go away,’ right?”
“Yes.” Lucas nods with absolutely as much politeness as he can muster.
The woman nods seriously and whispers:
“You absolutely cannot say that to members of There ARE Angels! They’ll do anything an angel says. If you tell them to go away, there’s an actual risk that they’ll run out into oncoming traffic and become nonliving.”
Lucas looks like he is talking to someone who communicates by picking random words out of a hat.
“You mean that they’ll . . . die?”
“Oh, no, you can’t say that online anymore, Lucas. It’s considered very inappropriate. The term is nonliving
,” the woman corrects.
Lucas puts his palms on his knees again.
“Okay. But then maybe just tell these nice gentlemen to go and do something fun, okay? Have a beer, watch a good movie, eat something nice . . .”
One of the men immediately clears his throat and calls out:
“Eat what, angel?”
“Pad thai?” Lucas suggests exhaustedly.
The other man asks:
“Does that have peanuts, angel?”
“Yes.” Lucas sighs.
“I’m allergic to peanuts, angel! Can I replace them with cashews?” the man asks.
“Sure. Do whatever you want,” Lucas says with a hopeful nod and tries to close the door.
But then the other man calls out:
“I’m a vegetarian, angel! Can I replace the chicken with Halloumi cheese?”
“Sure, sure.” Lucas nods.
“Is there a gluten-free option?” the first man wants to know, at which point Lucas loses his patience and exclaims:
“I thought people who believed in angels were a bit more fundamentalist than this!”
The woman in the purple dress smiles sympathetically, whispering:
“It’s really hard to find good cult member these days, Lucas. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
One of the men raises his hand and asks:
“Sometimes I’m lactose intolerant. Can I replace the chocolate with something else?”
“There’s no chocolate in pad thai,” says Lucas.
“I see, angel. So what should I have instead?” the man asks.
Lucas groans.
“You can have whatever you want. Isn’t that what the religious scriptures say? That man has free will?”
“We try not to use those kinds of labels,” the second man says in a suddenly stern tone.
“Believing in God is optional in our Facebook group.” The first man nods, slightly annoyed.
“But you believe in angels? Don’t those things go together?” Lucas asks, confused.
“Don’t be so prejudiced, Lucas, they don’t like that on the internet!” the woman in the purple dress warns.
And that’s the way it happens, when two weeping men set up camp outside Lucas’s door, eating gluten-free, lactose-free pad thai with cashews and Halloumi without chocolate.