Devil Mail (8 page)

C
HAPTER SIX

A
t six thirty the next morning, Angela woke up with a pounding headache, a huge lump in her throat and aching limbs. Casting her mind back to the previous day, she couldn’t recall being severely beaten, then run over by a truck, but it certainly felt like that was what had happened to her.

             
“I can’t afford to be sick; not today,” she muttered in her painfully raspy voice. Lacking the strength to even reach for the telephone, her prediction of Sharon’s icy tone at the prospect of having to find someone to cover the trial again, added to her reluctance to call in sick for the second day in a row. The longer she procrastinated, the shorter the time she would give Sharon to find someone, hence, the more likely she would be to incur Sharon’s frustration.

             
Sharon’s sympathy surprised her. “Oh, Angela, you sound terrible. It’s best that you rest and get rid of that thing, instead of passing it around the office or the courtroom. Liz covered the trial for you yesterday, so I’ll ask her to cover for you again today, although it’s likely that we’ll have a verdict today.”

             
“Oh, I really wanted to be there for closing arguments and the verdict.” Angela had worked the trial from the beginning and earnestly wanted to be there at the end.

             
“I’ll have Liz fill you in later.”

             
“Okay, thanks.” She was grateful for Sharon’s consideration, but Liz’s update would be no substitute for her soaking up the atmosphere of the trial herself; experiencing the tension during jury deliberation; sensing the arrested breathing right before the verdict was delivered; watching the expressions and telltale behaviors of the plaintiffs and defendants when the verdict was read. She wanted to be there for all of that.

             
  When the telephone rang at seven o’clock, Angela smiled. It was the melodious voice that touched and soothed something deep within her. If this was to become her new morning routine, it was one that she could adjust to with natural rhythm. “Hello, my name is Aiden Jacobs and I’d like to report a theft.”

             
“Well, this is not the police department, but I’m interested to know what was stolen,” Angela croaked.

             
“Ooh, what happened to you?” A combination of shock and concern squelched his romantic overtures.

             
“I spent a perfect day with this amazing guy yesterday, and now I’m paying for it; system overload.”

His response was quick. “Funny you should
say that; I spent a perfect day with an amazing lady yesterday, and I’m sure she stole my heart. She was the only one who has had access to it recently.”

That was t
he type of comment that got Judith’s eyes rolling and sarcasm simultaneously rolling off her tongue. If she were present, she’d say, “You’re gonna need a burger with half a cow in it to balance all that cheesiness!” But Angela loved this sort of attention when it was directed towards her.

“I’ll keep an
eye out for it. Can you describe it? Is it a big heart, tiny one, a tender one or is it more on the shriveled, stony side?” Angela was amused by her own response.

“It was a massive tender one
, actually, but now that I think about it, I might just let her keep it.” He continued before Angela could reply, “Poor baby, you sound awful.”

Having informed him that she had called in sick
and would stay home from work, her forbidding appearance and achy body made it easy for her to decline his offer to come over and nurse her back to health. Besides, she had promised her sister and her best friend that she would be careful, and she was not about to breach that promise by facilitating ‘alone time’ with Aiden at her apartment. She would let him know if she felt up to a date on Friday night, as previously discussed. Zumba class with Julia was definitely off.

Angela stayed in
bed, dozing in and out of awareness. Her waking moments were spent thinking about Aiden. Her thoughts were potent enough to bring a tingling sensation to her aching body as she recalled his scent, the times that he had touched and embraced her as well as the words he had spoken that made something within her come alive.

She had forgotten to respond to Matt’s me
ssage after Judith and Julia left the night before. This was something she felt able to do while resting in bed. She read the informative message again. He was obviously making an effort to discuss subjects that he supposed she would be interested in, but Angela lacked the inspiration to address the points he had raised.

“Is there any subject about which you DON’T possess a wealth of information?

             
A very impressed Angela.”

             
She hesitated before sending it, in the knowledge that she wasn’t that impressed, but just had no other comeback. She sent it anyway.

             
A new message from ‘leonardog87’, who held a pose with a lowered head, glowering at the camera out of the corners of his eyes, was briefly entertaining. It contained the lyrics of a Marvin Gaye song - nothing added, nothing subtracted, just the lyrics. “We will not be getting anything on….Baby,” Angela chortled. He may have been the nicest, kindest man in the world, but in his profile picture he looked mad at the world, like he was primed to rip someone’s throat out at any second. 

             
While on the website, she poked around to see if anyone new had joined. Some of the profiles she had previously viewed warranted a second look, but there were none of real interest to her; neither old nor new, with the exception of KdoyleIII, whom Angela had affectionately labeled ‘Boaz’. She stared at his picture and read his essay answers again, trying to put her finger on whatever it was about him that had her so enthralled.

             
Upon checking to see when he was last online, she discovered that he last logged on the night before, so was probably aware that Angela had viewed his profile multiple times. He had not even viewed her profile once. Why had he shown no interest? Was she not his type? In hindsight, she was thankful that she had not sent him a message; she did not handle rejection well.

             
A call to her mother to tell her that she was sick in bed, and a text message to Julia to notify her that zumba was off for the evening, was all that Angela could manage before falling asleep again.

             
By the time she woke up, it was late morning. The low hum of her laptop reminded her that she had not logged off before falling asleep. A message from Matt commenced what turned into hours of instant messaging:

“Yes, one subject I know very little about is…….YOU! But I’m working on changing that. BTW aren’t you supposed to be working?

Matt” 

             
“I’m off sick today. I think I have the flu.

             
What else do you want to know about me?

             
Angela”

             
“There are things that will be revealed over time

             
as we become friends. Some things you’ll show me

by your actions as opposed to your words. There’s

no need to force it or rush it. So, your feeling under

the weather is a blessing in disguise – I get to talk to you. Selfish, I know!

Matt”

             
“I don’t know if I like the idea of my actions being

             
scrutinized like that.

             
Angela”

“No scrutiny, you’ll naturally tell me about yourself
just by being yourself and I’ll do the same. I’m sure you’re an angel, just like your name suggests. Hope you have someone to take care of you until you get better.

Matt”

“No angel here, just an ordinary girl trying to live right. I live alone, so I’ll just rest and take it easy until it works its way out of my system.

             
Angela”

             
That was where the generalized conversation ended. From there, Matt dragged Angela along for a ride through statistical analyses of survey results and data ranging from the rise in people living alone to the percentage of people who die from the flu each year. Along the way, Angela learned about the chances of catching the flu, the effectiveness of the flu vaccine, as well as the reliability of the surveys being dependent upon the accurate interpretation of raw data.  There was also reference to the importance of establishing a strong friendship as a firm foundation of a lasting relationship. This was topped off with a citation of the percentage of best friends who end up marrying each other and the odds of those marriages being successful.

             
Angela was exhausted by the afternoon, her head throbbing more vigorously than when she first awoke. It was almost two o’clock when Matt mercifully wrote that there was something at work that he needed to attend to.  She made herself a cup of warm lemon and honey, guzzled it down and went back to sleep.

             
The ringing of the doorbell roused her at five minutes past four o’clock. Angela thought twice about rising to answer the door. Few people knew she was home. She would be extremely displeased if it turned out to be a solicitor trying to sell her something. Instead, it was the welcomed sight of Mrs. Craddock bearing a casserole dish.

             
“I made you some chicken soup.”

             
“You’re one in a million, Mom.” Angela’s gratitude was genuine.

             
“I’ll not stop long, I don’t want to tire you out, and I left Trey next door playing with the neighbor’s boy. I’ll just pour some soup into a bowl, put it in the microwave and you can warm it up when you’re ready. The rest I’ll put in the fridge.”

             
Angela had no shame in admitting that she didn’t mind her mother fussing over her when she was sick. She envisaged herself doing the same thing when she became a wife and a mother. “Go back to bed, you look terrible. I’ll let myself out, unless there’s anything else you need.” Mrs. Craddock hustled her towards the bedroom.

             
“No, thanks. I love you, Mom.”

             
Other than a short telephone conversation with Julia, Angela’s evening was uneventful until Aiden telephoned to check up on her. Again, she declined his offer to attend to her in person, stating that her mother was taking care of her.

             
“When do I get to meet her?” Aiden asked playfully.

             
“My mother? All in good time.” Her sustained conversation with Aiden, which carried them into the night, coupled with her mother’s unrivaled chicken soup, was just what Angela needed to lift her spirits.  Her headache had subsided and she felt a little more than a modicum of strength returning. Her throat was still sore though, not helped at all by the couple’s lengthy conversation. As far as Angela was concerned, he was worth the discomfort.

             
By the next morning, Angela’s grogginess had resurfaced. Her day was a repeat of the previous day.

             
“Well, I didn’t expect you in today, judging from the way you sounded yesterday,” Sharon stated when Angela called in. “The trial ended yesterday. Do you want Liz to call you sometime with the details?”

             
“Sure.”

             
“Well, hope you get better over the weekend. I have an out-of-town assignment that I’d like you to cover if you’re well enough to return to work on Monday. Call me as soon as you know, so that I can have all our bases covered.”  Sharon was simply a driven, results-oriented person who despised drama and did not allow emotions to get in the way of work. Her attitude towards Angela was as schmaltzy as it was going to get. The fact that she was prepared to give her the out-of-town assignment on the heels of her sickness, spoke volumes.

             
Aiden, proving to be a creature of habit called at seven o’clock to see how she was feeling, Mrs. Craddock called right after to ask if there was anything she needed, and Matt sent her a ‘feel better’ message, as if all it took to get better was a simple act of volition. The absence of a sunny disposition meant that she could brook no lengthy instant messages from Matt containing wearisome, if not obscure, facts and figures. If she waited until much later to respond, he’d have less time to blind her with statistical analyses.