No Second Chances

The more I spoke, the more I emphasized particular events of my life over others, the Man grew proportionately quieter and less jubilant. His eyes shuttered when I told him of my Mother, not to mention those that happened to hear from nearby. A group of onlookers began to pay particular attention to our conversation, their curiosity burning. 

Some responded glibly, reticent to believe such a hyperbolic story against a life that, by all means, was a peaceful one. Others grew quieter, turtled in on themselves as they pondered the expanse of their own lives. 

However, the Golden-eyed man before me looked on with a downcast expression, a deep pity supplanting his once aberrant gaze. 

The Combination of drink and hopelessness led me to share more than I would normally be comfortable with, piercing the hearts of those that deemed me but a simple child. The Commotion of the Tavern was now replaced with a hushed malaise sparingly disrupted by the tunes of folk music offered by the musicians that strummed and sang. 

Groups of those that were either too far away or too occupied to pay attention to our area of the bar continued their conversations and consumptions, completely ignorant of the growing tide that formed around me. 

"Who else thinks this is a load of bollocks, huh? This kid's spinning stories." A fox-faced individual moaned accusingly from a few seats away, his yellow stained teeth plastered in a possessed grin. Those around him agreed, offering slight murmurs and nods in condonement. 

"I bet those bandages are covering up a bad case of hives." Another postulated, his face flush with the onset of copious drink already pooling in his system. 

"Besides, w-what kinda piccaninny wears a-a cardigan these days?" A boorish man proclaimed, earning a volley of boisterous laughter from those still lucid enough to manage hearing him. 

I felt a tinge of anger flare behind my eyes as their accusations washed over me. My story was told in, albeit foolish, confidence to the Golden-eyed man that had begun to clean the inside of a mug with a microfiber cloth, his eyes downcast, brows furrowed in thought. 

Before I could respond, however, the Man placed the same mug he had cleaned in front of me, filling it with a transparent liquid I could assume was another spirit of some sort. 

"So, Yovin. What do you plan to do now?" His eyes turned dubiously upwards, facing me with an accusatory look. I hadn't mentioned what I planned on doing, partly because I was so emaciated by the drink he offered, but also because sharing it would only work against me. Still, that look he gave made it seem like he was close to grasping my true intentions.

"I-I'm not sure. Just try to be the best son I can be, I guess." That managed to shut the other patrons up, who showed a tinge of reproach at such a striking phrase. I imagine all of them were fathers or brothers in some respect, and could appreciate a child yearning to support his parents. Or parent, in my case.

"You know, back when I was your age, I suffered a loss quite like your own. The sister that had raised me since memory served had died from an incurable disease." The Man's faced marred by a sense of melancholy, he began to offer his own juxtaposition to my sordid tale.

"I couldn't understand why it happened. And I had no one to be angry at, either. Who in their right mind would find justice in cursing something as ephemeral as sickness? Surely not myself."

"I spent years lost, meandering through life without purpose or cause. Until one day, I decided I would try to change things. Not through force of will..." His eyes met mine, a callousness I wouldn't begin to think possible forming on such an effeminate face.

"But through a singular decision that would eradicate my pain." 

With only an allusion to the fact, I felt as if he had seen right through me. A sense of vulnerability caused the hair on my arms to harden, the slouch in my back to straighten, as he continued amicably forward.

"There were many tales throughout my hometown. Of a mistress who could cast away your soul in return for peace. Death by nonexistence. The idea struck a chord within me. Such a surefire way of bringing about some level of closure to the squalor that had overtaken my life seemed too good to be true."

"And I was too much of a coward to cross that line by myself. So, inevitably, I sought her out." The Man gave a measured pause, motioning towards the slick glass he had filled with liquid and placed in front of me moments prior. I grabbed the transparent handle of the mug, bringing the glass rim to my lips as I slowly drank.

It was water. Only water. 

"When I visited her, the only feeling I could place was that of complete serenity. The assurance of death, and the quiet that followed close behind. Even as we sat at the same table, sharing stories, that sense continued to pervade my mind."

"And after the ritual had concluded, I was still in that drab darkness. Confused, I pleaded with the woman. Begged her to take the pain, the sorrow away."

"I realized that the ritual was a falsehood. In fact, this woman was no shaman or mystic. Just a wise old woman that offered those astray on their paths meaning." The Man shuddered his words, taking care of one of the hecklers still poignantly listening with an amber-tinged spirit that reminded me of syrup. 

Returning to his place in front of me, the Man continued. 

"The words she spoke that day left such a profound impression upon me that I had no choice but to reevaluate the life I was blessed with." Leaving his phrase with a hint of anticipation, I leaned closer as he wetted his course upper lip, the red patch of his tongue gliding effortlessly across it as a smile formed on his face once more.

"She said to me, Yovin. She said, 'The World we live in is vast, mysterious, and deep in complexity. Death stifles all of that for the sake of a singular purpose. To welcome it is to cast aside all of creation for the realization of one person's weakness.'" 

The Man leaned forward, almost half a foot away from my face, as I began to ruminate on the source of his jocularity. The meaning behind his story. None of it made sense to me. So I waited, the corners of my mouth pulling downwards as I continued to feel unsatisfied. What was I expecting from this stranger, anyways? Had he so easily drawn me in through a friendly face and passive demeanor?

Drawing a short breath as he blinked repeatedly, a sense of excitement filling the Man's eyes and cheeks, he exhaled, exuding a sweet smelling fragrance from his mouth that reminded me of honey-loafs and ginger cookies. 

"There was a hidden meaning behind her words, Yovin. One I couldn't grasp fully until a few weeks later. When I had ample time to truly ponder the intent behind them. In fact, it was a scene quite like the one you find yourself in now. Albeit, I was too childish at the time to go into a Tavern all by myself as you have." He chuckled, a light sound that eased the tension forming at the base of my mouth. This man truly was gifted in acquiescence. 

"Wandering aimlessly in the commercial district of a city called Divina, I came across a family. A Father, Mother, and their son. An ordinary sight in a place as wide and diverse as Divina, but the happiness they showed on their faces was anything but." The Man glanced upwards, a dreamy look overtaking his previous fascination. Those still listening alongside me muttered words of embarrassment and chastity.

Clearly the somber mood cast by the Man's story was too much for them, some leaving with a huff while others found other stories to distract them. Now in a space covering the far edge of the bar, remained me and him, the rest of the Tavern sequestered to pockets of disparate commotion alongside the tune that continued to play amidst it all. 

If he was bothered by it, he certainly hadn't made it known through his expression. 

"I was jealous. Extremely so. Enough for me to have my own child. That was reason enough for me at the time. Now, I can say that everything I do is for her. And I haven't looked back since." He concluded his story with a level glance directly towards me, expectant yet measured. Looking for a sign of acknowledgement or some close approximation in my tired eyes. 

It didn't make me feel any better. Not the least bit. Although, I was happy for the Man who troubled himself with sharing his story, I couldn't help but feel I had been led astray. I shouldn't've been hopeful in the first place. 

Finishing the Glass of Water in a strong gulp that left a few drops as proof of it's existence within, my head began to clear. The grogginess followed by alcohol diminished enough for the memories to come flooding back in. 

"Well, thank you for the story, sir. I need to get going soon, so I'll be heading off." My voice, now limp without the shroud of forgetfulness, treaded upon near disdain. It was pathetic, but the image of a Happy family going about their business only brought to mind what I could never hope to obtain. What I had lost due to my ineptitude. 

As I stood to leave, the Man gripped my arm that acted as a support against the countertop. Surprised, I looked him dead in the eyes, obviously confused by the sudden physical interruption. To my surprise, his hands were rough and calloused. He was a man, after all, regardless of how pretty he looked.

"Your Mother loved you deeply, Yovin. The same love I share for my own daughter. As a Parent, I can assure you of that. Are you sure you want to throw that away?" His eyes pleaded to me with the same fervor his tone attempted to express. But all I felt at from that accusation was burning anger. 

I may have explained the details, but I never expressed the deeper context surrounding my Mother's death. That was a problem only I could solve, after all. A stranger wouldn't understand. 

Ripping my arm from his grasp, I hurried off towards the open door leading back within the larger confines of the Market square, It's frame being held open by the introduction of a Towering man tall enough to have to duck underneath it. 

"Excuse me." I said, not bothering to make eye contact as I sauntered past him with my arm extended to catch the rapidly closing door. 

"A little young to be drinking, aren't you?"

For whatever reason, against all manner of physicality and proper physics, I felt my body seize itself from my control at the utterance of this Lanky man's words. 

A fear as ancient and primordial as a homunculus discovering Chroma for the first time began to flood every neuron that fired sporadically inside my head. Stuck just before the threshold leading out of the Tavern, I felt a growing set of eyes curiously ponder at my sudden disjointedness. 

It was of no importance to me. Everyone, everything faded away except for the Man that eyed me with his unabashed attention. 

"You okay? Seem a little rattled there, kid." 

And as soon as the phenomenon ripped control from me, normalcy replaced it just as quickly. My faculties returned, but that fear still lingered. I couldn't even bring myself to look at his face. Anything but that. I was terrified of what I would see. 

Now with the freedom of movement, I quickly pushed through the door, the Man's eyes boring through me as I did so. 

No matter how far I walked, that sensation remained. Of an overwhelming presence. A Strength to annihilate a person's will completely.

Maybe If I had such a power, My Mother would still be alive.