A Tiny Bit Mortal (3 page)

I burst into laughter. “Mom. Really?” 

“Do it for me.” she said.  “Please.  So I sleep better at night.” 

I looked at her and her eyes were serious.  I sighed and loaded it into the trunk on top of the suitcase without saying a word about it. 

“Really mom,” I said “you have nothing to worry about.  I promise.” 

I kissed her cheek and wrapped my arms around her.

Chasing the Devil

Sitting in the parking lot in my car
in front of the coffee shop and book store in Medford, I watched people coming and going.  I noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but then again I wasn’t very skilled at stake-outs.

The smell of coffee wafted into the cracked window of my car, calling to me, so I did the only reasonable thing and went into the coffee shop and ordered a vanilla latte.  I sat down and pretended to read the newspaper, looking up every half minute or so to take stock of the people in the room.  I looked, and I waited.

Taking the last frothy sip of my drink, I lingered for a while, and then pushed my way out the door and into the cold.  I felt disappointed.  I knew it was weird, but the impulse to look for the stranger was overwhelming.

Despite the absurdity of it and the fact that the man was most likely just a stranger and nothing more, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.  Something inside me, some sort of illogical side, was taking over.  I continued to return to the bookstore every other evening.

On the third evening of staking out the coffee shop, I sat and read the newspaper from front to back, making stealthy glances at the slightest sound of shuffling or movement in the room. 

Sipping my cold coffee, I knew I’d been there way too long.  I would have to leave.   Slapping the newspaper down on the table next to me, I looked over at it and scowled.

Someone sat down next to me.  I froze.

“Stood up?” he asked.

I turned and met the gaze of a very handsome man with ashy blond hair and deep brown eyes.  My cheeks flushed, and I put on an innocent face.  “Um.” I said. “No, actually. Why?” 

He smiled.  I found him slightly attractive and scolded myself for thinking so.  He wasn’t even my type, which I could tell by his shiny white tennis shoes and his sporty t-shirt with a logo I didn’t recognize.  By the looks of his huge biceps, he spent a lot of time “working on himself” at the gym.

“Well.” he said with a smile.  “You’ve been here the last hour peering around like you’re looking for someone.  Right as I was about to leave, I saw you abusing a newspaper.”

Crossing my legs and flattening out my gray wool skirt with my hands, I felt tired.  I tilted up my chin and looked at him sideways. 

“It’s really none of your business.” I said.

His eyes widened as he tilted his head to the side, processing my rude words.  “Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked.

I looked away and saw him studying me from the corner of my eye.  “Oh God.” I thought.  I’d heard it a million times.  How many green eyed, pale, wild haired women like me were there out in the world?  I had yet to meet one.

Grabbing my coat and leaning on my arm to push myself up off of the seat, I paused when I realized I’d always responded in the same way.  On a whim, I decided I would settle back into my seat.  I shifted my body to face him.

“Where do you think you know me from?” I asked. 

“I’m not sure.” he said, slowly.

Leaning forward, his eyes became vacant and zombie like.  “You just….your face…
so
beautiful.” He stammered.

I looked down at the floor.  The whole conversation had been embarrassing from the beginning.  That was what I got for operating outside of my norms. 

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably.  After shoving aside my dread I turned back to look at him.  Furrowing his brow, he lifted his hand to rub his palm against his forehead.

“What were you saying?” he said.

“You said you knew me from somewhere.” I said, drawing circles on my knee with my index finger. 

Looking up at the ceiling, he seemed to be searching his mind for something.  After shaking his head and shuddering, he pushed himself up from his seat.  He looked back at me over his shoulder and said “Sorry” before he walked away.

Pushing the door open, I walked into the parking lot and stopped in front of my car.  The wind picked up and blew my hair back from my face.  It rustled the leaves in the square rows of landscaped bushes.  I closed my eyes for a moment and inhaled the chilly air.

I laughed to myself as I got into the car.  The whole situation seemed nuts.  I’d heard the “
so
beautiful” thing before, but I had assumed it went along with the “time to get into bed together” part of a relationship. 

On autopilot, I drove home deep in thought.  Headlights from the opposite lane on the highway flashed in my eyes through the darkness as I contemplated my deteriorating mental health.  My stake-out for the devil had come to an end, and I resolved to restore my life back to normal.

Feeling the cold bite against my face, I walked into the park early on a January morning.  December had passed by swiftly, and I’d avoided traveling up to see my mom for Christmas, using the bad weather and the icy roads as an excuse. 

Surrounded by a grove of massive sycamore trees on a tiny hillside, I faced the Japanese gardens in the distance.  The trees were bare; the bark looked painted in whitewash.

My soft gray scarf was wrapped tightly around my neck keeping it warm, but my ears burned from the cold.  Watching my breath turn into fog as I exhaled, I slipped my bare hands into the pockets of my black wool pea-coat to warm them.

It was a quiet morning.  Lithia Park in Ashland was a place of peaceful solitude that time of year, and that early in the morning.  I heard the sound of a man walking his dog on the street below, by the sound of his dog’s collar going
clink, clink, clink
as they walked along.  Only locals walking their dogs and hardcore joggers were out in this frigid weather.  The few people in the park that morning had a destination, but not me. 

Picking up a little stone, I threw it as far as I could.  It ricocheted off of a tree close by and settled on the ground.  Staring into the shadows where it had landed, I felt vacant.

The coffee shop entered my mind, where I had spent so many days waiting for something, anything out of the ordinary to happen again.   I had studied every face there, coming and going.  They had all looked the same, nothing out of the ordinary.

Normally I’d retreat to working more when things felt disappointing, uncomfortable, or lonely.  That day was different.  Putting aside my previous resolution to return to normal life, I walked out my door and went a different direction.  I was planning to go to work a few hours early, but after staring at my parked car for a while turned and walked up the street.  I’d wandered past the busy plaza and up into the park.  

Hearing the sound of my heart beating, I stepped through the shadows of the rows and columns of trees that seemed more like a roman cathedral than a grove.  Brushing my fingertips across the smooth trunks, I inhaled and exhaled deeply.  The fog from my warm breath in the cold air hovered around me.

Facing the sunlight from the rising sun, I closed my eyes and felt the warmth on my face.  I stood there for some time, aware of the feeling of simply existing.  In that moment, I felt like I’d been so many strangers to myself.  Sometimes I still believed there was more to the world than I could see, and other times I knew there wasn’t.  “Who am I?” I thought, feeling lame for being twenty-nine years old and still asking myself that question.

Descending the hillside of the grove, I stepped down the street and made my way towards home.  As I was walking along, I took a closer look around me.  The plaza with its shops had become such familiar scenery that I normally walked through the area with tunnel vision.  It was relatively quiet that early, and most of the shops other than the coffee and breakfast sort were closed.

I passed by the plaza and crossed the street, taking a fresh look at my surroundings for the first time in years.  I normally went down one more block, and then up the street to my apartment, but that time I went up the opposite side. 

Walking slowly with my hands in my pockets, I peered into each of the closed shops: children's clothes, chocolates, fancy shoes, and then a door to what appeared to be shops on the interior.  I’d never been in there before.  I stood there looking in, hands in my pockets, cold breath making fog on the window.  Then I had an impulse, reached down and pushed on the door handle.  It opened.

I walked in and saw an art gallery on the right that was dark inside and locked up.  Everything was so quiet.  I walked down to the end of the hall, observing works of art for sale in the hallway. 

At the end of a hall, there was a rocky fountain built into the wall, and full of pennies.  I looked left, and right, and both were dark halls with closed doors at the end.  The left hall led to a dimly lit EXIT sign. 

Meandering back the way I came in, I peered into a shop on the right.  I was startled to find it open, well lit, and with with a man at the very end of the shop behind a counter.  I didn’t see it at all on my way in. 

He was looking right back at me.  He had short brown ringlet hair, and deep brown eyes locked onto me uncomfortably.  I could only see him in pieces, like the man in the coffee shop.  It was like he was out of focus, but I could briefly focus on a piece at a time.

Feeling like I got caught doing something strange, I tried to act natural. Smiling like I was a cheery shopper, I walked into the shop.  Aware of him watching me, I peered into the glass counters. 

The jewelry was beautiful.  Silver and jewels, forged together in the most stunning way.  My eyes landed on a necklace, that had a tiny silver locket that looked like it was covered in tree roots.

Looking up, I saw the out of focus figure of the man on the other side of the counter.  I hadn’t heard him approach.  All I could do was look down at the locket, and mumble “beautiful.”

“I can hear your heart beating.” he said. 

Speechless, I stood motionless looking down at the locket.  I was beginning to feel overheated in my winter clothes.  Looking up at the figure, I saw his brown eyes looking into my eyes.  I felt a feeling of
familiar
and then in one swift, overwhelming rush he came into focus.  It felt like being hit with a tidal wave directly in the face. 

His hair was short, full of brown curly locks.  His skin was ivory, like mine, set with big brown eyes, a concerned brow, and a very Roman like nose.  He was distinct, proportional, and beautiful.

“Would you like to try it on?” he asked.

I remembered I was in a shop and it was a perfectly reasonable question.  Had I been hearing things a minute ago?

“Yes, please.” I said.

He removed the necklace from the back of the case and then made his way around the counter.  He walked behind me and then brushed my hair in one sweep over my shoulder.  It left a warm, tingling trail everywhere his hand brushed against me.

Feeling the necklace fall to my chest, the back of my neck tickled as he clasped the necklace.  I touched the necklace on my chest and looked down at it for a moment. 

“How much is it?” I asked.

Before I could finish my sentence he was standing in front of me.  Feeling his eyes on me, I kept mine locked on to the shining silver of the necklace.

“How
much
?” He asked back.

Not knowing what to say,  I just stood there, trying to process an appropriate answer.  He reached up and touched my fingers that were still on the locket.  My heart raced, and my breathing felt shallow.  I felt lightheaded. 

His hand was warm, and I felt a strong impulse to reach up and touch him with my left hand.  I placed my left hand in my pocket. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” he said, gently. 

Looking up from the silver locket, I met his eyes again.  I felt like I was falling backwards, inside myself.  “I am here.” I said, breaking away from the idea I was just a shopper and he was just a shop keeper. 

“You should keep the necklace.” he said.  “But the day is starting and you can’t be here.  I don’t know what they would do.”

I wasn’t sure who
they
were, or how to even respond.

“Please come back.” he said with a smile.  “I want to see you again,
please
.  But you have to go now.”

I couldn’t help but smile.  He took my hand in his, and I wanted to keep it there.  Everything inside me wanted to stay in that surreal moment.

He led me towards the door, turned to face me, and held both of my hands in his.  “Goodbye.” he said.

“Goodbye.” I said.

Pulling myself away was difficult, but I knew it was the proper thing to do after a goodbye.  I slowly pulled my hands from his, with a tingling rush shooting up both of my arms, dizzying.

He held open the door for me, and I walked out, floating inside of myself.  I felt myself emerge from the building and out into the cold.  I felt
alive
.

Jogging toward my apartment with my gray scarf flapping in the wind behind me, I reached up to touch the necklace as though it would disappear at any moment.  My heart felt like it would beat right out of my chest.

Locking the deadbolt of my apartment door behind me, I stood in the entryway with my chest heaving. Wandering into my book room with my hand over the locket on my  chest, I sat on the dusty blue chaise lounge.