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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2007738
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Relationship · #2007738
Nothing is going right for Mary until she crosses paths with a homeless man.
Mary lay close to Sean, holding her pillow, but there was no emotion, other than his indifference towards her. When he got up, he didn't even offer her a goodbye. He dressed and walked out, leaving her laying empty and miserable.

Mary was an aspiring poet for a local street paper, but two days ago she had been fired from her job for missing too much work, and if that wasn't bad enough, now her fiance, Sean, told her when he left today, he wouldn't be back. They’d been at each other’s throats for weeks arguing, over money and how he felt she should find a "real" job. Mary had problems with self-esteem, weight gain, and now not sure of her ability to hold a job.

She walked into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Mary screamed at her reflection “You fat, ugly loser, I hate you!” The pale face just stared back. Her long black hair was matted and tangled, and her eyes had bags under them from lack of sleep. Now the tears were coming, streaming down her cheeks. Mary snatched up the black eyeliner pencil and scribbled furiously across the mirror . . . . Life is a losing battle and death is coming hard and fast to claim his victory! She only wished the words could hide that face staring back at her.

Mary was done, finished. Her future could be defined by three 'H' words . . . helplessness, hopelessness, and hell. That destiny never felt more real than at this moment.

She grabbed her coat, flung open the door, and walked out into the dreary, damp morning. She looked up at the grey Seattle sky wondering where her life had gone so wrong. The tears running down her cheeks and the soft rain joined together in a melancholy duet that caressed Mary’s face, hiding her pain and suffering from anyone that may look her way as she walked along the street.

Mary walked down 15th avenue towards the Cowen Park Bridge, determined to end this miserable existence. “No more,” she muttered under her breath. “Years from now I won't even be a memory. I will be no more than the dust before a broom, swept away and forgotten.” She was filled with self pity and loathing.

Mary was trying so hard to avoid anyone’s eyes, walking with her head down, just trying to finish what she started.

So far she’d been able to steer clear of the few people coming her way, but out of the corner of her eye she saw a long haired, bearded, homeless guy coming straight towards her. On edge, she realized he intended on talking to her, probably asking for change, so he can buy some weed or pills.

Angry, Mary looked up to confront him, but something about his calm, piercing blue eyes quieted her. The man sensed her tension and spoke softly. He told her his name was Jesse. When she replied and told him her name was Mary, he smiled and told her his mother’s name was Mary.

Jesse told her he felt from a block away that something was bothering her and wanted to help. She was shaken by his forwardness and asked him why he would want to help a complete stranger, especially since he looked so down on his own luck.  He told her he needed a friend, and by her look, he thought she could use a friend too. He said he was just hoping they could sit and talk.

Jesse told her it might be obvious by his tattered clothes that he didn't have much money, but if she'd walk with him and maybe talk, he’d buy her a cup of tea or coffee.

He said he was sure she might have problems she felt were bad and hopeless but no worse than most people faced. She needed to just ask for a friend to help. Jesse told her a little of his past and how he also had many problems. He told her the story of how he was tempted by evil people to do bad things and how he had been stranded alone in the desert for over a month. He told her how he had been betrayed by one of his closest friends at a time when he really needed that friend.

Much more at ease and distracted from her original intention by his stories, Mary gave in and agreed to talk with him, at least for a little bit. There was something very different about this man. When he held out his hand to walk, she noticed terrible scars on his palms and asked him, “How did you get those?” He told her he'd explain and tell her all about it when they found a place to talk. As they walked down the sidewalk in search of a coffee shop, he told her she may not believe him yet, but today she would start a new life. He told her to just please give him a chance

© Copyright 2014 Steven Alexander (doctordirt at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2007738