By: Yvette Jessen

It had been one of those days when nothing seemed to go right.

Willy Wonka ran his hand through his curly locks of hair as he stared down at the ground. After several seconds, he moved his hands from his hair until his fingers were carefully brushing along the contours of his face.

On this day, he had decided to emerge from the factory and take a walk through one of the city’s many parks. The solitude of it was exactly what he needed.

It had come as a surprise to his protégé that he had even opted to taking this walk. Along with Charlie’s incessant nagging, his Oompa Loompa doctor had advised him about getting out and catching a breath of fresh air now and again as well. He figured that this was a compromise, although he was not exactly sure what specifically he was compromising. Some of his workers had said that he would lose his sanity cooped up in the factory. For his part, the chocolatier figured that he had lost that long ago.

As he sat, his eyes began to stare out across the grass at the small blossoms that grew amidst the greenness of the area. He loved the color green, it seemed to emanate life and vitality that could not be comparable to anything else.

He rested his elbows against his knees and stared, his hair softly rustling in the breeze as he looked out across the pathways that extended throughout the park.

Inhaling he could feel the crisp air filling his lungs. As he exhaled, he found himself raising his head slightly to see a woman making her way across the grass towards him. Her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her thin jacket and her hair, straight. The auburn color reminded him of the leaves that fell from the trees during the autumn months. Her hair seemed to blow in virtual waves all about her face. She brushed it aside, but seemed not to care as the wind picked it up a second time before allowing it to fall back against her face.

Instead of reacting to her approaching form, Willy lowered his head and rubbed his hands together. He remained as such, all the while not noticing that she had seated herself right next to him on the bench. After several seconds, he raised his head and looked over at her, his eyes watching as she took in the park as though it was a new and different thing.

Not a word was spoken, yet it seemed as though they were both lost in thought.

After awhile of sitting like this, he could hear the gasping of breath coming from her and he turned his head to have a look. The woman’s head was bowed and tears were streaming down over her face. She looked terribly distraught and he wondered what it was that would make such a kind looking lady want to cry.

Willy had no idea why it was the woman was seated in a public place and crying, but his heart went out to her nonetheless. He concluded that given her emotional manner that she had obviously been through something rather difficult.

Instead of speaking, he dug in his pocket, fished out a handkerchief, and extended it towards her. When she did not acknowledge this action, he reached over and touched her shoulder, thus causing her to turn and look at him.

What he saw was a pair of brown eyes, a swollen face, and heartache that expanded beyond anyone’s recognition. Wordlessly, he pressed the handkerchief into her hand before using it to exert a gentle pat to her shoulder. Seconds later, he withdrew his hand, the contact now broken.

The woman said nothing, she simply dabbed the piece of cloth against her face and stared out across the vastness of the park. Behind it, they could both see the smokestacks of the factory rising in the distance. Neither of them spoke, the silence of the moment seemed to literally swallow them up.

After several moments had passed and Willy had grown tired of seeing the girl simply fidget with the handkerchief, he took a deep breath and spoke. “‘The pain passes, but the beauty remains’.” This was all he said, a mere quotation from Pierre Auguste Renoir. These words would only reach her ears before drifting towards the heavens.

The Irish angel raised her head, a small look of contemplation crossing her face. “So shines a good deed, in a weary world,” she whispered, her voice a soft Irish lilt, and the depth of her eyes staring at the chocolatier with gratitude. (Shakespeare)

“Why are you so sad, dear lady?” He asked, all the while not really certain whether or not she would even respond to his words. At the same time, he figured that there was a chance that he could receive some sort response from her.

Monica took a deep breath as she looked into the eyes of Willy Wonka. “You would perhaps not understand.”

“Maybe I would,” he said. “Maybe I can understand your sorrow better than you think.”

“I have lost something very valuable,” she said.

“What did you lose?”

“My friends,” she whispered. “How does one find them again when faced with separation?”

“I don’t know. I never really thought all that much about it.” It was clear that her statement had made Willy quite sad. Instead of elaborating on the heartbreak, he offered her a gentle smile. “‘What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies’.” (Aristotle)

Monica smiled slightly. “You speak in verse and quotation.”

“I suppose, but sometimes it actually helps,” he said. “There are quotations for everything. Sometimes, they help me to maintain a safe distance, and sometimes, they can help to break down the barriers.”

“How many of them do you know?” She asked.

“Several hundred, I suppose,” he said. As these words emerged, he dug in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a candy bar.

Monica watched him, but said nothing.

“Would you like some?” He offered, his voice etched with kindness.

“Thank you,” she nodded.

Once he had unwrapped the candy, he broke it into several pieces. He then extended a large piece to her. “Now do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?”

“It’s hard to explain,” she began, but began to nibble on the chocolate nonetheless. “I suppose you could say that I’m rather sad and lonely.”

“Lonely?” He asked. “You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” she said and watched with bemusement as he released a pent up sigh of relief. Her expression once more became serious. “I just left a place called Ascension, and I just said good-bye to my three best friends.”

“Then go out and make some new friends,” Willy said decisively. “This seems a rather small commodity when compared to seeing something you’ve never seen before. People move all the time and then they have to contend with change and making new friends.”

Monica took a deep breath. “What makes you so sure that it’s that easy?”

“Because I have spent most of my life alone. I made a few friends along the way, but it didn’t stop me from sharing.” As he spoke, he pointed to the candy still resting in her hand. “You could always look at it this way: ‘Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self’.” (May Sarton)

“You make things sound easy,” she said.

“They’re not easy, but they’re nothing to fear,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “‘You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do’.” (Eleanor Roosevelt)

Instead of responding to these words, she lowered her head but offered a slow nod.

As he watched her wrap her arms around her body, it became clear to the chocolatier that this woman was doing more than dreading the future, she was acknowledging her aloneness.

Instead of speaking of these observations, Willy did something that seemed rather out of character for him, he pulled her gently into his embrace and held her.

Monica could suddenly feel herself smiling as she raised her head and looked at the man who was hugging her. The handkerchief was still in her hand, but she remained where she was. It felt good to be comforted by someone and she was grateful that the Father had sent her to this park before she would meet her new caseworker and embark on her next assignment.

For his part, the chocolatier could not fully understand why he was hugging her in the first place. He was a recluse and she was a stranger. It seemed too far removed from reality to be real.

In the recesses of his mind, however, he realized that not only did it feel right, but the mere thought of someone experiencing that familiar aloneness was too much for him to bear. Eventually, he found his voice and spoke, this time citing a quotation from Ralph Waldo Emerson. “‘Nor knowest thou what argument, thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. All are needed by each one; nothing is fair or good alone.“

She nodded as the embrace loosened and she backed away from him. With her arms now freed, she wiped the last of the tears away. Several seconds passed and she looked at the chocolatier, a small smile now breaking through as her lips turned upwards.

Without any sort of warning, she reached for his hand and once she held it, she returned the handkerchief to him. Giving his hand a final squeeze, she spoke, her voice as soft as the breeze. “‘Gratitude is merely the secret hope of further favors’.” Once these words emerged, she slowly got to her feet.

Without thinking of what she was doing, she cast a brief glance in the direction of the factory before looking back over at him. As her eyes met his, a knowing smile crossed her face. Several moments of silence passed between them before she offered him a warm smile. “Thank you for the nice conversation, Willy,” she whispered before turning away from him. Before she could distance herself, he spoke.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said with a slow nod. “Take care, dear lady.”

Wordlessly she nodded, but once she had left, the candy maker started to wonder how this pretty young woman could have possibly known his name. They did not introduce themselves, and she seemed unaware of the coincidence when he had given her the chocolate.

Without knowing that he had encountered an angel, the chocolatier closed his eyes momentarily as three other people appeared from out of nowhere and started to approach the bench where he was now seated.

“Willy Wonka?” One of them spoke.

His eyes abruptly opened and he started to get to his feet. “You’re not with the press, are you?” He asked, his first intention was to get away from them.

It was at that moment that he realized that there was something rather striking about each of these people. They were all dressed in creamy beige colored outfits. The heavyset woman wore a flowing gown, the brunette woman in glasses wore a white woman’s suit, and the green-eyed man was dressed in an off white suit.

“Don’t be afraid, baby,” the heavy set woman began, her voice immediately making the chocolatier release a pent up breath. There was an motherly sense in her words that took him by surprise.

“What do you want?” He asked as he noticed a yellowish glow surrounding them.

“Nothing, except to thank you,” the man said smiling.

“Thank me, but why?” He asked.

“You just took care of our friend,” the dark headed woman said with a smile. “You helped her to move on in ways that you probably never even realized.”

Willy shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t do much, I just talked to her. She said that she missed her friends.”

“She did, and you helped her through the sadness of saying good-bye,” the man said. “You see, Monica is an angel, just as we are all angels. She is sent by God to help people. Yet, sometimes, it is not always she who helps, but others who help her as you have done. Today, you both helped one another.”

“She didn’t really help me,” he said. “I was feeling rather alright when she arrived.”

“Are you sure?” Tess asked. “You held a stranger in your arms, and that is a very brave thing for you to have done. When you stop and consider the fact that you do not always feel comfortable around people you don’t really know.”

Willy smiled ruefully. “Maybe.”

The man came over and rested his hand on the chocolatier’s arm. “We appreciate you looking out for her like that,” he said smiling. “We know that she’s going to be OK now.”

Before he could say another word, the three angels disappeared and he closed his eyes. Perhaps I ought to get out more often like Charlie and the doctor suggested, he thought. Now I’m seeing things.

He got to his feet and returned the handkerchief to his pocket before heading back in the direction of the factory.

The End.

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