HOPE

The good you do

"You came. I didn't think you would."

She said hesitantly. She couldn't hide the emotions she'd talked herself into concealing before he arrived. They had gripped her by soul, and forced their way out, and there was nothing she could do but succumb, and so she did. Her eyes shook when she saw him, her lips quivering at the sight of his haggardness.

"You’ve saved me more times than I can count, I thought you deserved to see me one last time." He shrugged.

"No..." She was almost in tears.

"Look, Diane. You've been more than good to me these last three years, actually, you’ve been good to me since the day I met you in that parking lot. Saying thank you would never be enough for all you did and that's why I'm here. But enough with seeing good where there isn't. You said it yourself—"

"That's not true Mason.” She cut in. “You're the only one who never saw how good you were. How good you are." She paused.

She needed to gather her thoughts as well as her emotions. Although she didn't want to believe it, this was her final chance to save him.

"I didn't mean what I said. I was scared and angry. I was grieving. Why would you take a grieving woman's words to heart? I'm sorry..." She pleaded.

She let it out. She cried, her emotions getting the better of her. She was in public, yet she let her voice be heard.

"I'm so sorry Mason. I didn't mean to make you feel like evil, I didn't mean to make things difficult. Please don't do this. Let's make it work together. We tried before, let's try again. Please, Mason..." She whimpered.

This wasn't a convenient place for such conversations, but Diane was past being ashamed. She caused this mess, she had to fix it...

With all the prying eyes around her, it was a good thing she decided to put on makeup and wear her best jeans. But with all the crying she was doing, makeup wasn't looking like the brightest idea anymore.

Diane thought people were staring hard because her makeup had smeared, but in reality, the people in the cafe were looking at Mason. The man who throughout their conversation; a conversation that wasn't in any way private anymore, stayed stiff, making no movements to indicate he'd heard anything the woman had been sob-saying. He looked lifeless and unmoved. While the lady cried, he did nothing to console her. What baffled their now shell-shocked and unwanted audience was how his head remained bowed like a sinner unworthy of salvation. His belief that he was beyond redemption was palpable.

He raised his head to her. "It's not your fault, Diane. We both know that." He said, after almost five minutes of silence.

He had that impassive look on his face that tore at her heart every time she saw it. “I am beyond redemption."

Those words again. She'd heard them for the first time over six years ago. He saw himself as a sinner that could not be saved, but she saw a man who desperately needed someone to save him. He wanted to be saved, he just didn't know how to go about it. She thought she could help and for a time she felt she was helping, until she ruined everything. How could she have been so merciless towards a man as fragile as he was, a man who was at the brink of hopelessness, a man who saw himself worse than the devil, a man that had only, for a split second learnt the art of forgiving oneself?

"If you won't do it for me, do it for Hope."

She needed to try one last thing, and by the look on his face and the burning in his eyes, her appeal had worked it's allure. She knew it was wrong to play on his weakness, but she didn't think she had it in her to lose him too. She would do anything to get him to get help, even if it meant using their dead daughter.

Losing Hope was more painful for him than it was for her. If only she'd realised this sooner rather than later.

"I think I've heard enough. Have a wonderful life, Diane." He got up ready to leave.

Diane had poked him where it hurt the most, and in his attempt to hide his pain, he focused on his anger as a coping mechanism. He was about storming out of the cafe when he felt a body press against his back as hands locked over his form. It stilled him. He had almost forgotten the touch of a woman or any human at all. As he stood still, his body tingled at the smell of vanilla, and memories he’d rather forget burned his mind.

How was he able to forget this woman? Her smell, her touch, her kiss... Why was it all coming back so fast?

This woman whom in his darkest hour, he had made a baby with and had hope. He closed his eyes, his last attempt to keep the tears abate.

They'd already created a spectacle for the habitué of the cafe, this particular scene couldn't hurt more than her earlier debacle, Diane thought. So she focused on the only thing that mattered. Saving Mason.

P.s sometimes, the good you do doesn't always solve the problem. Sometimes, the most it can do is give hope and that's more than enough.