Angel Ramos
Angel opened her big brown eyes and pushed herself off of her knees. The smell of jasmine and freshly baked tarts surrounded her in a cloud of wonder as she stood up from the floor. Soon enough, her mother scurried in with a silver tray that held a steaming pot of tea and a plate of lemon tarts. Angel smiled gratefully as Mrs. Ramos gingerly placed the tray onto the small mahogany table that reside on the other side of the parlor.
"Have you finished your prayers, my Angel?" Her mother smiled sweetly, placing his wrinkling hand on Angel's smooth delicate cheek.
"Yes, mum," she nodded, leaning into her mother's hand. "I prayed for you, for father, and for all the families that ever lost a loved one or ever will."
"Good, I'm proud of you."
Angel sat down on the floral patterned love-seat before picking up a cup of tea and inhaling it's beautiful scent. "Jasmine..." she sighed happily.
"I know it's your favorite," Mrs. Ramos said with a bit of an edge to her light voice. Angel furrowed her brows...something was up. Since when did her mother ever make her favorite tea and dessert without wanting something in return. She took a small sip of the scolding liquid coolly before looking back up at her mother, who was now standing behind the chair across from Angel.
"You want something," Angel said with a look of uncertainty. "Something...that I most likely won't approve of. Just tell me and we can get this over with, mother."
Mrs. Ramos' smile grew two times it's average size. "I've met this fine man that would be perfect for you," Angel said nothing, just stood up and prepared herself to walk out of the room. "Before you try to dismiss it, Angel, please...just talk to the lad."
"Time and time again, I've told you that I am not interested in marriage. Please accept that."
Mrs. Ramos gently grabbed her daughter's shoulder, forcing her back onto the love-seat to Angel's dismay. "I understand, sweetheart, but I think you just need to meet the right gentleman. Give this one a chance. Do it for your poor aging mother that wants to see her grandchildren one day." Angel sighed, but didn't respond instead she bit into a lemon tart. Her mother, however, took that as a yes. "Sebastian," her mother chimed. "It's safe you come out now, love."
In walked a tall man with thick sideburns and a mustache that looked like he cemented a squirrel to his upper lip. He seated himself across from Angel and smiled from underneath his hairy lip.
"I'll leave you two to chat," Mrs. Ramos said excitedly then left the room. Angel held back her annoyance by remained silent. She bit into her lemon tart again. The suitor watched her awkwardly for a minute or two before speaking. "Your mother tells me that you are a catholic girl."
Angel sipped her tea nonchalantly, "My mother tells the truth...to suitors at least."
He shifted uncomfortable in his seat. "So this isn't the first time this has happened?"
She sighed, placed her tea and tart on the table then looked the suitor right in the eye. "Let's just hurry along, shall we? I don't wish to be married and let's face it, you are not comfortable in the slightest. Let's just...accept that this won't work and you can go on your marry way." The suitor was at a loss for words. Angel shook her head in annoyance and stood up, making her way towards the exit. "I would say that it was a pleasure to meet you," she said sweetly with a sympathetic smile. "But God doesn't like liars." She left the room and entered the real world. The London sky was gray, but lovely and the breeze gently brushed her skin. She sighed yet again as she took a step out of the doorway. Her heel caught on something, causing her to almost slip. After regaining her balance, Angel peeled the paper from her heel. It was a letter that was addressed to her. She opened it, feeling the curiosity flow over her. She read the single lined text and tilted her head to the side. "Who is...R?"