A short story
Angela remembers the day she came to the home. It was a crisp day. Like a fall day. But she couldn’t be sure. She left the party at the fancy building and walked up the hill to the convenience store. But she couldn’t quite remember what she wanted to buy or why she went. She went into her purse and found that she had no money. It was filled only with tissues. In fact, she couldn’t remember why she was at the party or if anybody knew her. She only knew her name was Angela and that her husband was dead.
That was when they took her to the home. She remembers that.
And she remembers this morning. She was in bed while her daughter was opening the curtains by the window. Her daughter smiled and chatted kindly. Angela hid the fact that she couldn’t remember her daughter‘s name. But her daughter did seem quite softhearted and the company was nice. Even better, Angela learned that it was her birthday and they were taking her to the boardwalk for a merry-go-round. She picked out a colorful dress, a matching sweater and silver necklace for the occasion.
The problem was she didn’t really like the merry-go-round as much as the sky swings. She said this on the way to the amusement park, repeatedly. But each time she brought it up the people just laughed at her like she was feeble and brainless. Which, of course, she was. Still she wanted to go on the sky swings. But they all said it wasn’t safe for her anymore. There were lots of people at the amusement park who wished her a happy birthday, which was very nice. But it wasn’t the sky swings. She wanted the sky swings.
While she was craning her neck to get a peek at her favorite ride, a boy named Pancho brushed by her.
Pancho was on vacation with his family and many distant relatives. So many that he had trouble remembering their names.
They were all crammed into the top floor of a big fancy house. People were sleeping everywhere: on the couches and even on the floor on the outside porch. And there were long lines for the bathroom.
All the big kids got the boogie boards and most of the pizza with all the toppings. He seemed like he was always last in line. He was the youngest. No one would play with him. It was just him and his plastic dinosaur and a shovel at the beach,while everyone talked over each other endlessly.
After one game of pinball and one ice cream cone each for all the kids, the whole pack of relatives were at the amusement park. He would get one ride. He wanted the sky swings, but they all said he was too young and too small. They also said he was special needs. He didn’t like when they said that. He said he was only too small to go alone. But none of the big kids would go with him.
The crowds crushed upon them like the ocean’s tides. Everybody got mixed up with everybody else, like bubbles on the wave. Soon he didn’t know who was who. Pancho didn’t care. Nobody paid him any attention anyway. He walked to the sky swings and looked at the lines on the chart. Pancho was right. He was, in fact, too small to ride alone. But he could ride with someone else. Right then, he saw his aunt. All alone. Maybe she would take him. The problem was she looked too old and he couldn’t remember her name. Plus, she looked confused. Like she was lost. Maybe they were both lost.
He took her hand and said he wanted to go on the sky swings. She said they would go together. That’s when Pancho wondered if she was not his aunt or just some other old lady. But he wanted to go in the sky swings. And her eyes were so very kind.
It was a long line, but they talked about ice cream flavors. They didn’t know each other‘s names, but that didn’t bother them. They just called each other “dear” and “honey.” They were happy together.
When they got to the front of the line the teenage gate checker seemed concerned. She took out a measurement stick to see if Pancho was tall enough to ride.
He straightened his back as all the kids did. The gate checker was nervous. She tried pushing his hair down to see if that would make him too small. But Pancho, although just barely, was tall enough. He beamed with pride as the gate checker nodded nervously.
Angela opened her purse, but could not find the ride tickets. Only tissues. After a time, people in back were getting restless. Angela went through her purse over and over again while Pancho looked on.
The gate check girl asked if she left the tickets with someone else. Angela just shrugged. The girl asked Angela who she was here with. She pointed at Pancho. She asked him where his family was. He didn’t know. The girl looked around in a panicked state. She said maybe they could go back and get the tickets. She asked Pancho how long he’s been waiting. He said his whole life.
A slim, tan and matronly arm protruding from a sundress squeezed between them and handed the gate attendant tickets for Angela and Pancho. They both looked at the many bracelets on her wrist and the diamond crested wedding band that reflected the night lights. Her nails were perfect. Angela and Pancho could tell it was a rich hand. A hand like this had authority. They didn’t need to see her face. They knew they would get on the ride now.
In one last-ditch attempt, the gate check girl asked how old they were. Angela said old enough.
The next thing they knew they were on a double swing on the outside loop. Angela always picked the outside loop. She found a six pack of Oreo cookies in her purse which they took turns munching. Both were giddy within anticipation. They laughed and laughed together and swung their legs and feet while they shared their treat. Pancho said he felt like it was the best day of his life. Angela said she felt like it was her birthday, which it was.
Pancho asked what they were doing after this. Angela didn’t know. Angela asked if he would visit her tomorrow. He didn’t know.
It was taking a while for the ride to start while the gate check girl was talking to someone who Angela guessed was a manager. He looked at the old lady and the young boy sitting together with a concerned face. Angela didn’t care. Even she knew that there was no maximum age for a ride.
Eventually everybody was buckled in and the seats magically lifted.
That’s when it all came back to Angela. The memories flooded in all at once. Everything. From the sun drying the ocean water on her back as a child to the night she fell off her bike at age sixty. All the births, deaths, joys and tears. The weddings and funerals.
It was all so clear to her now. Of course this little boy was not her grandchild or a nephew or even related to her at all.
He was the angel of death.
He had come to take her home at last.
Angela looked at him and said she was ready. He looked back at her and said, so am I.
The swing started to move. As they climbed higher, the tissues from Angela‘s purse began to spill out and fly in the air as the other people on the swings reached out for them. Pancho helped Angela close her purse and they held hands as the lights blurred. The sounds of the children screaming and laughing mixed with the smells of treats. It seemed they were suspended in flight for eternity before the swings finally descended. Even before the ride stopped, they both heard commotion on the ground. People were yelling and pointing. There was anger and accusations and counter-accusations.
When they got to the ground, a red-faced, sweaty man pulled Pancho away from Angela and yelled at him. It hurt Angela’s arm when he was yanked free. Then another lady came over and put her finger right in Angela‘s face. She yelled at her in Spanish. The lady was outraged.
The kind woman who drew the curtains back earlier in the day yanked at Angela‘s other arm. A policeman was with her. There was a lot of yelling but Angela couldn’t understand because of all the confusion.
Angela looked at Pancho and Pancho looked at Angela as they were pulled away from each other. Angela was crying. Pancho was crying. He was trying to break free, but he couldn’t. Angela wanted to say goodbye to him. They got further and further apart until finally they disappeared into the crowd.
They would never see each other again.
Outside, on the boardwalk, the family members gathered around Pancho and asked him about the old woman. He told them she was an angel. His guardian angel.
On the drive back to the home, the woman asked Angela who the boy was. She replied, an angel. Come to take her home.
Two days later, the obituary of Angela Magliotti noted that she rode her favorite amusement ride at her favorite beach town on the very last night of her life.
Vincent Malfitano is the author of the novel, “Ocean City New Jersey, America’s Greatest Family Resort: A Crime Novel”
