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Published by Ian Martinez
In the midst of sorrow or hopelessness, anything or anyone can become your Savior.

I wrote about Leah, a young mother hoping that her baby which was on its way, would transform the relationship between her and her husband.
In the midst of sorrow or hopelessness, anything or anyone can become your Savior.

I wrote about Leah, a young mother hoping that her baby which was on its way, would transform the relationship between her and her husband.

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Published by: Ian Martinez on Jun 10, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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A Short Story by Ian MartinezLeah pressed hard at the synthetic marble tabletop with a soapy rug. Grease tended to stick stubbornly at the plastic surface, collecting into a cloudy mass especially at the aluminum-linededges. After the baby is born, she planned to buy one of those bright pine tables that oft caughther eyes when she walked through the malls window-shopping. They would have to save though.Arnold still has no job, but surely he’ll find one – something that he’d like and eventually stick to. He will have to make a sacrifice soon and take whatever job there is once the baby is born.Leah laid a hand over her slightly bulging belly. He’s beginning to show, she thought, smiling toherself. She moved around the table, taking care not to bump herself at the sharp corners, as sheworked to clean off the grease.Arnold was very particular about where he ate. He tended to become vocal if his food is servedon a table where his forearms would stick.They lived in a two-bedroom apartment that was being paid for by his parents. His parents wereretired and they owned a small shop selling auto-spare parts to keep themselves busy. Arnold hadtried working there but couldn’t stand the extra hours that the job asked of him. He told Leah thathe couldn’t picture himself doing such a worthless job for even a month.He only has a year to go before graduating from Business Administration, and she a semester.But they both had to stop for a while; that is until the baby has grown big enough to be left at her mother’s.She scanned the small living room and sighed. There was a hazy layer of dust on everything. Shewent to the kitchen and got a feather duster and a small rug, which she moistened slightly under the tap.She headed first for the shelves of the living room and collected her angel figurines, lining themup carefully across her cradled arm. One by one, she laid them carefully on the coffee table in themiddle of the room.It wasn’t a large collection, but it was one that took years to build. Before she got married, sheused to spend the whole day searching for a piece that would catch her eyes. She would oftenlook deep into the angels’ little faces to find that one expression that would bring the littlewinged-figurines life. When she does find it though, she would often have to come back someother time when she has enough money to make the purchase. At times, she would come homeheartbroken because someone else had perhaps found the same expression and bought thefigurines before she could raise enough money.Because of the painstaking search, each of her angels was priceless. Of course she had received pieces from friends, relatives and some suitors, but often she found them to have faces that wereempty. She left those with her mother after she moved in with Arnold.1
She made several trips from the shelves to the coffee table, carefully moving her collection. Her last trip she reserved for a crystal angel. She carefully took it in both hands, and with such tender care, blew gently at its dusty glass face. It was the only one that was given to her that she kept.The expression on its face intrigued her; she had not quite decided if it smiled or was sad. Whenit seemed to smile, it was ephemeral, like the quaint happiness that she would enjoy at nights asshe contemplated over her collection. It was magical how the angel’s face would reflect her own.At times, when problems beset her relationship with Arnold and shallow tears would show in her eyes, she would be able to discern from where she sat a sparkle on her crystal angel’s face. Shealways felt that the crystal angel looked over her, sharing her happiness and sorrow.She gently felt the cracks that ran across the thin waist and a wing of her angel. She knewsadness was creeping into her heart; her angel looked sad.The phone rang.She carefully placed the angel down and stretched to reach the phone on the side table.“Hello?”“Leah?” a soft voice came through the earpiece.“Oh, hi Mama.”“Leah! How are you doing, Dear?”“I’m doing fine, Mama. I’m just cleaning the house.” She missed her mother, and it felt good tohear her voice again.“O, how’s Arnold?”“Fine too, Mama.”“Is he there with you?”“N…No. Why? Do you have something to ask him?”“No, no. Just wondering, Leah. Where is he? Aren’t you two supposed to go to an appointment?”“Well, yes Mama. But that’s not until 3:30.”“3:30! Then what are you doing cleaning the house, Dear? You should be getting ready, or resting. And be careful! I think you’ve forgotten that you’re pregnant.”“It’s ok Mama,” Leah chuckled. “You seem more excited than I am.”2

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