He stirs and stands up. Hulk lays on the ground inside and crowd of people surround him. Someone is on the phone, probably calling the cops or an ambulance to save him. He won't be up for awhile. A young child with a sharpie approaches. Another group of young teens snap a selfie. Was he someone famous? Maybe a professional wrestler?
Shawn faces the night. He breaths heavy, the stresses soaring away from him into the nightlife of Los Angeles. His body aches and sings for him to provide aide, and he will, much later. But it’s time to celebrate victory. A quick win when that seemed impossible. Victories are few and far between for him. It's always good to win one.
“Are you crazy?”
He recognizes the voice. Sweet and salacious, caring and condemning, hateful and harsh all at the same time.
She's pissed. He can see it. Her hands lock to her hips and her right eyebrow aims toward the sky. Her right foot places itself just ahead of her left. Her arms cross her chest and she’s just not having it. She isn't having him or anything he has to offer. Great. There goes all of the credibility you built up with the conversation earlier in the night. Now she definitely won’t want to spent time with you.
“Come again?”
“What is your deal boy? Are you just trying to be like the worst possible human to me? Like seriously. Are you just trying to make me scared for my life or make me feel nervous about being around you? Like it’s getting to be a little much for me.”
“I thought you were in trouble so I figure I'd help out. That's all, I promise.”
“Yeah well I don't need your help. And the last thing I need is a man who is just going to beat up some random guy because he thinks he's flirting with me.”
A shutter of moments replay in is mind. The frustration glows red. She's spending a night out with her friends when a guy comes over to hit on them. Hardly the first or last gentleman to act in such a way toward the group of young women. And as she’s shooing him away, there comes Shawn, blood boiling with jealousy and desire, to beat up the flirt. All because he thought the worst and that something bad was bound to happen. At least that's what he told himself. Maybe he was looking for an entry into her life. Maybe he made much ado about nothing because he wanted nothing to become something.
“I'm sorry, I am.”
She fumes with anger. Steam rises from the top of her head. This isn't going away easily.
“You want to know why I won’t date you? You want to know why I won’t date any man? Because you're all the same. You all do the exact same thing with women. You act like we are prizes to be won at some carnival. Like if you lie and spin our wheels and do a little magic that you can win us. But you know what, I'm tired of that game. Tired of it. We don't always need you to come to the rescue.”
Shawn stays quiet because there really isn't anything he can say. He’s under the gun here, facing accusations and he can’t prove his innocence. Her case is a series of unmovable facts that he can’t deny. And he knows deep down that she is right. Men are horrible creatures when they're young and don't treat people right. Men can be an example of the worst of humanity in certain scenarios. They represent aggression and power. And when that goes to their head, its only creates more problems.
“I dated somebody for a long time. A long, long time. Ever since we were kids. And we just made it work for awhile,” she says with a tremulous voice. “But when you're young you get into these relationships that you don't really understand. You think things are normal, but in reality things are broken. You’re in this horrible, no good relationship where you fight all the time but you think its okay because you don't know any better.
“When I finally got out of that relationship, and it honestly took some time, I had to really fight the urge to say because he was as broken as I was,” she says, wiping away a tear or two from the corners of her eyes. “We finally broke up and I knew I couldn't really ever do relationships the same way again. I had seen how dark people can become. I saw how horrible love can be when it isn't understood. It isn't worth it to put yourself out there in the dark.”
Now it makes sense. She doesn't want to date anyone because of what happened in a previous relationship. Maybe that relationship was really bad — so bad it scarred her opinion of men for life. But it doesn't mean all men are going to be like the others. The next guy isn't always like the last guy. That's just not how the world works. Sometimes a curse turns into a blessing. Or a blessing finds you after a curse.
We go through the hard times to make room for the good times.
He wants to console her, to hug her and let her know that he isn't one of those guys. Nothing would please him more than showing her that he's more than a fighter, more than a drifter passing through town. He wants her to see that he can be more than that. He can be a hero that brings her brightness on a dark day. He wants to be the man who brings her sunshine when the clouds hang low. Soup when's she’s sick. A blanket when she’s cold. Takes her out of town when she wants to get away. He wants to be there. She deserves it. She's kind and sweet. She cares. A woman who's worried about falling into the dark pit of love clearly has the interest of both parties in mind. Avoiding love and relationships for her is not just about saving herself from trouble, but also saving someone else from heartbreak and a journey into love’s unforgiving abyss.
There isn't much he can do to change her mind so he listens as she sighs heavily. A flurry of words are about to be thrown his way. Tension will rise and stresses will climb.
Here it comes.
“Do you want to get coffee?”
It freezes him. Standing there frozen in time, he searches for what words to say. But he can’t find them.
“Uh, yeah. But. Like. What just happened?”
“What?”
“You just said you didn't want to date anyone and that you basically hate men, but you want to get coffee?”
She moves her eyebrow up and down like a wave. So what, it says.
“That guy wouldn't let up so you sort of saved me, I guess I owe you for that. I’ll buy you some coffee. Plus talking about my past always bugs me, you know?”
And so she does want to get coffee. He isn't going to turn away the offer. He loves coffee and he finds her adorable. She's cute and an intellectual, intelligent and kind. She knows what she wants and isn't afraid to ask for it.
He follows her down the road toward the busying sounds of a Los Angeles night. She says she knows a booming spot for some hot brew. He believes her.
Date
It's a Starbucks.
All the hype around a fresh and delectable coffee shop reduces to mere mediocre emotions as they near the mermaid. At least he's familiar with their coffee. He prefers a solid Dunks but Starbucks will do the job. She defends her choice by explaining that her ideal coffee shop, something called Intelligence or something like that, is probably packed and way up town. At least this way they get some coffee together and can do it for a respectable amount of time.
They score a table in the back corner. Auburn lights turn down to create the allure of a local cafe. Green aprons on every barista. Steam from the latte machine reaches out like a finger. Cassie and Shawn order simple Ethiopian blends to get the night rolling. Cassie pours cream into hers and snaps two packets of Truvia into her cup, turning it from a hard black to a cinnamon brown, like her skin. Shawn keeps his black. More cups will come their way surely, as long as the conversation stays thick and consistent.
Shawn’s hand shakes with his coffee. His stomach flips with sickness. He's going to throw up if he doesn't sit. Don’t mess up, he tells himself. Don’t mess this chance up.
The conversation goes almost like all others do on a first date. They turn the inside joke of the Hulk from the bar into an ongoing joke. Slowly the conversation shifts to something more real. Cassie asks him where he's from and what he was like growing up. He tells her about Lowell and what it was like growing up there. He jokes about his failed stints on the high school basketball and soccer teams. He muses over ex
-girlfriends and old relationships. He also mentions Sam and that entire debacle, a deep secret often hidden under the locked treasure of his mind. Little tidbits about how his heart went cold and he stopped caring about women flaunt their way into discussion. He watches her face rise with surprise as he shares his own domestic abuse and emotional distress stories. About his last girlfriend. The one he ran away from. When he just couldn’t handle it anymore.
She confesses more about the ex-boyfriend, about how he always wanted life to go a certain way, down a certain path, so that it would all be perfect and well kept. And for awhile that worked. She soon realized that she too wanted life to go a certain way. And yet what she wanted never grew out fruition. Life never fostered the way she wanted. The regret and concern over that built up within her and soon enough it was time for her to make a choice — to build her own life or continue living his. She chose the former.
And now here she is.
She opens up about her mother and father, highlighting how her family raised her. Nothing off putting about it. Just a simple suburban family life. And yet she came into contact with the wrong people. Over and over again she met the wrongdoers, the haters. They introduced her to sour and tangy drinks. They brought her to darkened rooms and basements that she had no business going to for unnecessary parties. If her parents ever found out, it would have been the end of everything. And then she met the boyfriend. It forever changed her life.
He asks her about Mary.
And Cassie tells him. She explains her habits and flaws, what she was like when she was younger, how she handled her relationships, how she had her own faults and problems. Mary's favorite memories float upon the table and Shawn gobbles them up. Soon he's out of coffee. Cassie is too. He orders another. And yet he's full.
They're midway through their second cup of coffee when he feels comfortable enough to ask her the ultimate question.
“Do you think you'll ever date again?”
She holds her hands together. Smiling, she stares at the ceiling like she's living in a dream.
“I'm not really sure. Our relationship was just so hard. And I don't know if it's worth getting into something so draining, something to exhausting.”
It's the answer he figured he'd get.
“Well, if you do decide to date again, I know a very eligible bachelor,” he says playfully.
She grins at him, biting her bottom lip. It's sexy and cute and yet playful. She's opening up to him. She's allowing him to touch her heart, connect with her soul. There's not a lot of room there, but just enough to make him happy. If this is as far as their conversation goes, if there isn't ever a real date, then that's fine. This will be enough.
They have four cups of coffee in total.
Starbucks shuts down and so they have to leave. The air remains crisp and biting for a summer night. Not cold enough to make him shiver, but chilly enough to make the Californians dress with UGG boots, sweaters and scarves. A faint breeze that floats through. It's all clean. It's all fresh.
They catch a Lyft. He suggests Uber but she hates Uber. Bad experiences apparently. They cruise around Los Angeles and the two plan to split the ride. She spends most the car ride talking about her plans for the future.
“I just want to get out of Los Angeles. Maybe open up my own restaurant and figure my life out.”
“Is that why you go to the diner every morning?”
“Now you finally understand!” she exclaims, brushing her hand against his shoulder. “Yeah the manager there really sucks. So I take down notes of what I like and what I don't like and plan it for tomorrow. For my own restaurant.”
“Well I'm all in support of that,” he says. “That's cool.”
“What about you? Do you have any future plans?”
He doesn't. He's never had a plan beyond how to survive the following week. That's just the life he lives. One day at a time, one week at a time. Nothing longer than a month. There's no such thing as a future where he grew up.
“I'm thinking about some stuff.”
“You don't have to lie,” she says. “I can tell you don't really see any kind of future. You're just the type to act like that. And there's nothing wrong with that. Sometimes people just, you know, don't plan.”
“Well, I do want to plan.”
“Really? I guess I believe you,” she says and they lock eyes. She smiles the way she did earlier, teeth biting her bottom lip.
The Lyft rolls to a stop. She quickly pulls out her phone and asks for his number. He types it in quickly and saves it in her contacts. She thanks him again for the heroics and she promises she'll call if she feels like it. It's just a formality, really, to have his number.
Cassie leans against the door of the car.
“Hey, if you think of a plan for your future, you can come and eat breakfast with me tomorrow. Meet me at the diner.”
He smirks.
“Sounds good.”
She shuts the door. A long night awaits him.
He lays in bed, sweating profusely because he can't think of anything else but her. He walked the line between confidence and anxiety. All his fears denude before him as he swims off to dreamland, the lake of which is a puddle of his cold sweat. The way she spoke with him earlier in the night proves to him that there is a chance. Of course there's a chance. There's always a chance when it comes to love. Anyone can fall in love with anyone. They just need two people who have enough countenance to accept each other. It has to be there.
But she's haughty. At least when it comes to understanding other people. And she's a bit intransigent. No matter what plans he musters up, tossing and turning in bed as the night slowly ticks into morning and the light rises in the dark, there exists little chance that he will change her mind. She's confident enough in her own beliefs that she's not going to date anytime soon. He can see the writing on the wall.
One thing flicks at his brain. He can’t figure out her mystery, the thing she’s hiding. Something remains behind the barred walls of her inner soul. Something she doesn’t want to reveal to people she barely knows. A relationship riddled with abuse is but a piece of the story. Dark matter lays beneath the surface, and he knows it. She’s hiding something from him.
The alarm clock squawks when it's time to wake up. He slaps his own face like he wants to beat himself into darkness, right back into much-needed sleep. But he wakes up anyway. Sunlight slants in from the window. Almost invisible specks of dust float on the air. The A/C booms in the corner. He's a little warm. Not the best day to deal with the heat.
He takes a shower and does it with fastidiousness. Every crack and crevice of his dogged body receives a splash of body wash and hot water. Soon his hair becomes lathered in shampoo. He rinses it twice and repeats again. If there's any day to look good, it'll surely be this one.
Sweatpants and a t-shirt won't do the job today. It's not that sort of morning. More rests on the line. He's up early enough that he can make it work. He leaves his hotel room in search of a clothing store open before the crack of down. Walmart will have to do. He rushes inside and finds a cheap pair of straight leg dark blue jeans and a plain black v-neck shirt. He dresses in the bathroom.
Time for breakfast.
Coffee lingers in the air when he finally gets there. He's earlier than most days so he gets a spot at the breakfast bar. He orders a coffee because the smell is too good to ignore. A ravenous hunger soars through his body. He wants an entire bakers dozen of muffins from all different varieties. He smells eggs and cheese, bacon and sausage, toast and peanut butter. It's all deadly. She needs to get here fast so they can eat. Shawn secretly wants to snack on all the foods this place has to offer. It's his comeuppance for waiting so long.
The door bell chimes again and again, but the loneliness lasts. Each passing person leaves him deeper in despair than the last. The door swings open and he checks each time. A blond girl with olive green joggers and a tight t-shirt giggles her way through the restaurant. He watches her walk away and wishes
for a second that she will be the last lookalike to come through the door.
“You alright?” a waiter asks. He has no business asking. But it's still good to know that somebody cares for you out there. Even if this doesn't work and Cassie disses him, it'll still be a step ahead of where he was just hours ago.
He tells the waiter everything, right down to the time and reason he came to California in the first place. At first it gives him pause, but the customer is always right, as they say. Anytime a guest believes they're right, no matter how absurd and insane it is, must be followed. That's the only way to keeps a restaurant from falling into completely anarchy from the staff.
It's time to give up. She's later than she's been the last three days, and it just happens to be on the same day that they made plans for the morning. He tosses a handful of bills on the table because that's the best way he can give a tip and pay for his bill in one swing. Maybe he will find some better solutions somewhere else. Getting stood up was a pain that alluded him in high school. And now he found himself competently subdued.
He's just about out the door when it swings open and Cassie stands right in between the outside and the inside. She asks Shawn to move with her eyes, motioning for him to move inside the diner. He follows her inside and they reclaim a spot at the breakfast spot at the bar.
“You came,” he says.
“Hey I'm glad you can understand basic logic.”
“I was about to leave since you were late. I thought for a second that you just decided to ditch me here.”
“Well I'm here now, despite my best judgement. So tell me, what's your future look like?”
He tells her and she smiles. And so it begins.
Breakfast is only the beginning. Time passes slowly and yet quickly all the time. Seconds bleed into minutes and minutes blend into hours. Hours fade into stretches of time seemingly unreal. Shawn keeps an eye on the past, but his foot presses forward. An importance sticks with him now. One he chooses not to let go of. Not yet. Not ever.
Nessus Page 6