A Beautiful Soul

I could use some caffeine right about now. I leave my small studio apartment and walk down the street to my favorite coffee shop. There aren't as many people there usually, and there's often good seating. The price is also usually pretty low. I enter, order my pumpkin flavored dirty chai, and stand aside to wait for it to be ready. I hear it called, and as I go up to get it, I slip in a small puddle of water. It is January in New York, after all, and people are traipsing around in snowy boots, leaving puddles literally everywhere. As I go down, I try to catch myself, but I know I won't be able to. Then I feel a pair of strong arms break my fall. Thankfully we haven't made skin contact. I quickly twist out of the hold and, despite the fact that I know better, look up into the face of my rescuer. He is a young man, around my age, probably slightly older. He has a kind looking face. I studiously avoid looking into his eyes.

"Are you alright Miss?" He asks. His voice truly sounds concerned.

"Yes, thanks to you. I probably would have been soaked if I'd landed in that puddle." He laughs.

"Yes, you probably would have. Somebody should keep an eye on that kind of thing. You could've been seriously hurt."

"No, I'm fine, really. Even if I had fallen, I would have suffered merely from wet clothes. I've got a hard head." This time he chuckles.

"I have no doubt about that." There is a moment of awkward silence.

"I should probably get my drink before it gets cold." I say. I walk over, going around the puddle this time, and get my dirty chai. I have nothing else to do today, so I decide I'll sit down for a while.

A few minutes later, my rescuer comes over to me, his own drink in hand, which is a mocha.

"This seat taken?" He asks, gesturing to the seat across from me. I don't want to, but I have to tell the truth. 

"Nope. It's yours if you want it." I reply. But is that all he wants? I realize that one single glance is all it would take for me to find out the answer to this question. But I hate doing that. I've seen so much by doing exactly that. More than my twenty two years should merit. I can't do it. It's just too risky.

He sits down and interrupts my reverie.

"I'm Max. What's your name?" He's really doing this right now? Does he have any idea how hard it is to carry on a conversation and not make eye contact once? No. Of course he doesn't. He's never had to.

"I'm Savannah."

"Well, Savannah. It's nice to meet you. Even if it was under catastrophic circumstances." I can hear the smile in his voice. I even chuckle a bit. That was kinda funny.

"Yeah, you too." I respond. Neither one of us seems to know what to say. We both take a sip of our drinks. He rubs the back of his neck. I wring my hands while I cross and uncross my ankles. He finally speaks.

"Do you come here often?"

"Often enough." 

"What are you drinking?"

"A pumpkin dirty chai."

"What do you like to do?"

"Read."

"Really? So do I. What genres do you like the most?"

"Depends." He leans back and smiles sardonically.

"You know, a conversation is usually two-sided. It's not supposed to be just one person asking the questions."

"I know. I just don't normally have any conversations that aren't business-related. Straight to the point and then they're over."

"Oh? May I ask why that is?"

"No. That's for me to know."

"Ok. I respect that. I've got secrets too. I guess everyone does." Not like mine. I mentally retort.

We are silent for a few moments.

" I'm sorry." I say. "I shouldn't be so short. Like I said, I'm just not used to long conversations. Especially with strangers."

"I understand that. I used to be the same way."

"Really?" I ask skeptically. "The man who sat down to drink his coffee with a complete stranger, not used to long conversations?"

"It's true!" He says with mocked affront. We laugh. It feels good to laugh. Over the course of the next hour and a half, he tells me his life story. How he was adopted at five, grew up in church, left the faith for a while, and then realized his own inadequacy, and turned back to the God who loves him. As he speaks, an idea enters my mind that I can't even believe I'm considering. I want to look into his eyes. I want to see it. With a story like that, it must be a good one. I've personally never been much interested in God or church, but he makes it sound like something I could be interested in.

Maybe.

I don't look into his eyes though. After getting to know this man, even a little, I feel bad looking at something that intimate without permission. When he's finished speaking, we are both silent for a few minutes. Then I decide to do something I've never before even considered. Something I've never ever done before. Something that could prove very dangerous in more ways than one. I decide to tell him.

"Listen," I say. "there's something you should know. You're gonna think I'm crazy, but I promise you it's the truth." I look over my shoulder both ways to make sure nobody can hear us before I continue. "I feel I owe it to you. You see... ever since I was a little girl, I've had this gift. You know the old adage, 'the eyes are the window to the soul'? Well, for me... they are." He looks puzzled. I try to explain. "Again, you're going to think I'm crazy, but I once more promise you that every word I'm saying is the truth. That's another part of my gift. I can't lie. But that's kinda beside the point. What I'm trying to tell you is that... well... when I make eye contact with someone, anyone, I see their, well, their soul. And also if I make skin contact with anybody, then I see every detail of the last dream they've had." I cringe, waiting for him to laugh at me. Or ridicule me. Or maybe even have me committed. But he doesn't do any of those things. He just sits there, looking at me.

"Look me in the eye and tell me that again." He says. I'm about to refuse, but then I realize that he's testing me. So I do what he says. Afterwards, he continues staring at me. But I don't care. I'm enraptured by the beauty of the soul I see in front of me. It is so full of light. So content. So unlike all the dark souls I've seen throughout my life. It's almost as if God himself was in this soul. But that's not possible... is it? Maybe it is. I don't know. But I'd sure like to find out.

"I believe you." He says. Three simple words. Spoken so quietly and calmly that I almost missed them. Yet they mean the world to me in this moment. I smile. So does he. 

I was wrong. There are good souls in this world. I just hadn't allowed myself to see them until now.