Grim

“Oh by the way,” he paused, mainly because he could not remember whether he had already told her this, “my name is Marcus.”

Her cheeks puffed around her coffee mug as her lips broke into a smile on its rim. “Yes, you’ve told me.” The smile on her face had not left for a second.

His hand went to his forehead in disgust. “What a maroon,” he cursed himself. He would have never given this woman a second look if she were riding public transit or if he saw her in the mall. Yet, there he was, attempting to woo this “angel” over a cup of coffee.

It must have been the way her red curls tickled her lashes. Maybe it was that smile, a lure into a relationship of lies and unfaithful innuendoes. He could not let himself fall for another Diana, even if this celestial being sitting across from him had freckles that resembled chocolate chips. This woman was simply weird looking. He had no idea that an African-American person could have freckles and auburn hair.

“So tell me about yourself,” her voice stuck out there. To him, it was like a melted chocolate fondue that he could carelessly poke marshmallows into. To her, she could hear a faint echo behind her throat and it drove her crazy. She was intrigued, no, flabbergasted at this man. Although his hair was beginning to take its journey into Greyville, he did not look much older than thirty-five. There were some muscles, but to be honest, he really wasn’t her type. Yet, there was something about him. Something she could see but not explain.

“Oh wait! I want to hear all of this. Excuse me.” She got up. In a small trot, still smiling; she went to the ladies’ room. That’s where her smile left. She stared into the mirror above the sink. Why does she have to hear all of this? She knew he would tell her some things she did not want to know. How could she go through with this again?

“Get a grip on yourself,“ she commanded of herself. “This isn’t like it’s the first time. “ She turned the cold water on.” It’s not like he’s going to say something you haven’t heard before. Would he have the courage to ask?”

Her head spun, unsure of what Marcus will do. “You’ve done this millions of times before. You can’t get too sentimental with them. Now get out there, listen and then do what you normally do in these situations.” She had pep-talked herself into going back out there. Just as she took her final look in the mirror, she noticed a pair of feet in a stall. The lock clicked and out came an elderly woman.

The old woman smiled at her. She smiled back. “I guess I was just taking my time in there,” spoke the wrinkled lady.

“You have plenty more time left,” she said, choosing her words wisely.

“I was hoping so.” The old lady pulled a mint out of her purse and offered it to her.

“Thank you.”

“You’ll do fine,” the older woman assured, drying her hands with the paper towel. “He’s a handsome fellow. You’ll do fine.” The ripened woman left the restroom.

She had a little faith in Marcus. “I’ll do fine. As always.” She pulled at the door and left the sanctuary of the ladies’ washroom. She strolled like it was a Sunday and there was no work to be done. She lowered herself into the chair and was prepared to endure the whole story. “Please continue.”

His tale began with a sweet childhood. She sipped her coffee slowly and even let the waitress fill the cup again. Her own persona seemed to have darkened then. A small wrinkle appeared over her eyebrows. It was as if something was about to change.

Marcus began his thirteenth year alive. Something did change. He had become as evil as her looks had. “I simply went from being the sweet child my mother had raised into this little devil that my father had been. I’ve done some things I am not proud of.” She thought he might be done telling her his story.

“It’s very easy to get tempted to do bad things because they are easy to do.” He had never taken notice of exactly how dark her eyes were. They carried a reflection like a dark pool of water. He took note of the fine wrinkles, the refining chisel of life being drained out of his skin. However, through all he saw wrong with himself in the reflection, her lips were still smiling. What if he told her everything? Would she still smile?

“I’ve committed almost every sin in the book. I haven’t been to church since I was 18.” he confessed and halted. Why was he telling her this? Who is she anyways? Whoever she was, she reached over and placed her hand on his. Even after holding a hot coffee mug for 10 minutes and sitting on her hands, they were still cold, like outside.

Her smile was unbreakable. Her voice was warm enough to coax him into going on. “Please continue.” Marcus shook his head slowly to return back to reality. He frowned up in thought and then looked back at her. He spoke on. He was not the saint that he is now. She leaned forward, taking his hand and rubbing his knuckles with her thumbs. “You were just a kid.” Something in her voice came over him. He wanted to get everything off of his chest.

“That’s not the worse thing.” He attempted to pick up his coffee mug, but found he was just shaking too badly. Marcus was no longer the composed businessman that had stepped into the coffeehouse two hours ago. Did she really have to know all of this?

His story continued into the dark real. He exposed his vulnerable soul to her through his tale. She was still cold. He let everything out, not worrying who heard anymore, not caring who thought what of him. He knew not why he felt better by confessing to her, but it felt good to him.

He never realized she had gotten that close to him. She was sitting on the coffee table, between his legs, facing him. His eyes shifted, looking over the room. Everyone was as they were, ignoring the couple in the window. His wet eyes looked at her. God! She was still smiling!

Her eyes were even darker now as she stared him in the emeralds he possessed. “Do you believe that Jesus died for your sins and that God will forgive you of your sins if you repent and ask for forgiveness?”

Marcus nodded.

“Good, let’s go then.”

He whispered softly to the sky. She already knew what he was saying, rather asking. He put his coat on and slid his cold hands into some gloves. She grabbed his hand and lead him out of the coffeehouse. She walked the half block with him, then let go of his gloved hand.

“You aren’t cold?” He asked her. How could she not be in just a heavy, ivory sweater and some jeans? Her feet wore sandals! This was the middle of winter and that’s all she wore? “Who are you anyways?”

“I will tell you that next time we meet.”

He kept walking on, facing her however. He stared at her eyes, moving backwards. His mouth formed ‘Thank you’. She began to wave. His lips in return adapted the same smile she had. He breathed in heavily as he watched her.

A man walked up the street to her, wearing her same outfit. Marcus stood on the curb, looking back at her. He waved back at her. “I’ll see you soon!”

Marcus never checked the street before he stepped off the curb. A tear dripped from her eyes. Marcus’s eyes were fixed on hers and that’s when he noticed the man next to her. His eyes shifted to him then back to her, when he saw the reflection of souls in them. Marcus’s smile did not have time to fade when the SUV knocked his body onto its hood. The tires screeched to a halt and deposited Marcus’s body at its feet. His crumpled frame looked like tithed offering. Women screamed and chaos began with sirens and crowds.

She was still smiling. He put a hand on her shoulder, “How do you do it? You can listen to every word of sin that comes from their lips, watch them die in the most horrid ways and still smile.”

She looked up at him, staring at him as if the sun were in her eyes. Her luminous expression would not publish her never-ending tale. The tears, although, would have betrayed her to save their own sorry souls.

“Just because you’re a reaper, doesn’t necessarily mean you have to be grim.”

((c) Copyright Xcesiv4ce 2003