Once in a while there are moments that occur in one's life that seem to stand out more so than any of the rest. Sometimes those moments are bad, and sometimes they are good, but one thing about them that no one can ever dispute is - once you have them, things will never be the same.
"Thank you, Ma'am. God bless you and good evening."
"You are welcome. Enjoy. God bless you."
The serving line continued on eternally. Sarah Rose Appleton lifted her glove-covered hand and wiped the sweat off her brow onto her sleeve before lifting the second helping of stuffing onto the next plate. It was Friday night and she volunteered, like she does every Friday night, to serve dinner to the homeless at Saint Agnes in downtown Chicago. It was a service she had performed every year since she was 14 and at 28 she still felt compel to continue.
Sister Mary Beth rested a comforting hand on young Sarah's shoulder. Surprised, Sarah looked up into a pair of warm, inviting eyes and smiled through the blanket of tiredness that rested upon her soul.
"God will bless you child. He looks fondly on angels."
Sarah blushed. Sister Mary Beth has been calling her an earth bound angel for as long as she could remember. Her heart was just that pure, she said. But Sarah Rose did not view herself as an angel. Angels were beautiful creatures and she was anything but. She could still hear the shouts and accusations...
"What do you think you are doing?"
Young, wide, innocent brown eyes looked up in the mirror. A smile bloomed on her painted face. Tones of golden brown, ruby red, and soft pleasant pink layered her sweet face.
"I'm making myself pretty, papa. Just like mama used to do."
The drunk in the bathroom door just snorted and laughed. It wasn't a particularly kind laugh. "You could never amount to her. Why are you even trying?" He stumbled into the bathroom nearly knocking her over. He unzipped his pants and pulled out a flaccid cock and began to aim.
"Papa!" she exclaimed, turning her head, trying not to see. Barely out of her teens, she never seen a man's appendage, other than her fathers and a few in magazines that papa kept under his bed. Magazines containing images of men and women, in various acts of sin, wearing looks of pleasure, as well as pain. She hated when he did that in front of her. He didn't seem to care what might be appropriate or what would offend. He showed her no respect.
Piss streamed from his cock and poured into the tub. It lasted a while. So long she almost turned around to leave the bathroom when she saw him bounce up and down. Lifting her eyes slightly toward the mirror, she saw him. She saw it. He held it in his hand and shook it; golden little droplets fell. Then he tucked it away out of sight and the raspy sound of the zipper filled the air.
He stumbled backwards then, nearly falling. He reached out for her, for balance. Piss stained hands gripped her. She tensed in apprehension and disgust. Gaining control, he looked at her again, staring at her reflection, seeing her amateur makeup job. He began to laugh again.
"You look like a clown! A fat, ugly clown! Pretty, my ass. Who would ever want a lard-filled thing like you? Hahahaha." He stumbled out the room and made it to the living room, just managing to find the sofa before he threw up in the potted plant on the side. After a few seconds he fell on top the couch and passed out.
Once joyous, the sad brown eyes in the mirror filled with tears as she watched. Then looking at herself, she grabbed a hand towel and began washing the makeup off. Times like this she missed her mother to show her how things were done. Once done, she sighed. Reaching down for her cleaning bucket and gloves, she prepared for the task of washing out the tub and cleaning the mess beside the sofa...
No, Sarah Rose was far from beautiful. She continued to serve the countless smelly bodies that paraded in front of her. Her hand-me-down attire didn't look much different from theirs except it was cleaner. Most of her clothes were brought from thrift shops around town because there was never enough money to go shopping in real clothes stores. The outfit she was wearing now wasn't from any thrift shop. They were her father's. Rather than throw them out, he pushed them on her. The humiliating part of the matter was - they fit. Sarah Rose wasn't a small girl by any means. She was what the kind hearted would call 'big-boned' or 'full-figured.' But despite the additional curves that filled out her body, she did have a sort of feminine appeal about her that she was unaware of. A softness that came naturally to her, a sexiness of sorts that was sometimes overlooked due to her mass. If she were a bit smaller perhaps she would get more of the attention she deserved but as it were...
"Hello Miss Sarah Rose."
Sarah broke from autopilot mode and looked up. There, before her, stood Harvey. Her heart stopped. Harvey has been coming to St. Agnes church off and on for the last three years. He was somewhere in his mid thirties but years of living on the streets made him appear at least ten years older. He was missing a few bottom teeth from the side, but it was a facial flaw one tends to forget the moment Harvey took it upon himself to honor you with a smile. He had one of those smiles that were infectious. It was big and bright and seemed to light up his whole face. His eyes formed these little cosecant shapes that Sarah Rose liked to call mooneyes. She liked his smile. It always made her feel good.
"Hello Harvey." Sarah smiled shyly and looked into the stuffing, afraid to met his eyes. She wasn't afraid of him because she feared him, she was afraid of how he looked at her. When Harvey looked at her, for a moment, just for a moment, she forgot that she wasn't beautiful or even pretty. When Harvey looked at her, something about his eyes made her almost think she was.
To look at them, they made an interesting pair. Harvey stood nearly 6 feet tall with a long willow body, which can only be compared to a beanpole. Sarah on the other hand was just the opposite. At 5'3 and curvaceous, she was often called a butterball. Yet to anyone who bothered to pay attention, it was clear those differences didn't matter to either one.
"That stuffing is mighty delicious Miss Sarah Rose. Did you make it yourself?"
She turned a light pink and laughed. "Yes, Harvey. I did."
"Well Miss Sarah Rose. I don't think I want anything else in this line but your homemade stuffing. It is defiantly the nectar of the Gods."
She laughed again. He made her feel good. "Harvey! Stop! There is plenty of good food here tonight made by many fine people. "
Harvey just grinned. "Okay, Miss Sarah. I'll stop, but me stopping doesn't make it any less true. Sister Mary Beth is right. You are an angel." Then Harvey walked away to join his two buddies, Jim and Bob who saved a spot for him in the corner somewhere. Sarah watched him go and with him went her joy. She was no angel.
*****
It was sometime after Midnight when Sarah finally prepared herself for the five-block walk home. The sisters were concerned about her heading out so late on her own but she assured them she was familiar with the neighborhood and would be fine. She took a few steps away from the door when she heard her name being called.
"Miss Sarah Rose!"
Startled she turned and saw Harvey jogging toward her.