Fallen (9 page)

“Do I know you?” I asked, instantly
thinking
back to all the places
I’d been
;
clearly
realizing that
not one face
in my memory
resembled this man’s.

He gave me a peculiar stare. It looked as if he were trying to determine whether I was joking with him.
“No
,
but we do run in similar circles.”

The hair on the back of my neck
reacted to what he said
.
“Really? What circles?”

His b
road smile wavered and I got the impression he
wasn’t being
entirely honest with me.
“Eh…Enough about me.” H
e waved me off. “T
ell me how this works
,
” he said
, leaning
toward
me with
resolute
interest
.

In reaction
I leaned away,
not wanting him that close. He noticed – I could tell by the disruption to his
frozen grin – but he didn’t adjust his posture. Uncomfortable with our interaction, I launched
into
my typical spiel.
“Well, I take your message
, de
liver it, you return for proof-”

“No…no,” he stopped me abruptly, his smile remaining stationary, unnerving me further. “
How do you actually…do it?”

I took a moment to clear my throat, reminding myself that this was a fairly common question
asked
by my customers. However, this one appeared to take the question more seriously than usual.
I began to feel as if he was researching me
,
and I considered ending his session.

As if he read my thoughts, he said suddenly,
“I don’
t mean to scare ya.” He allowed
his artificial smile to fall. “I’m not so good with…humans.”

The fact he called people “humans”
made his admission that much more exaggerated
,
and despite my reaction to him, I
actually
felt sorry for him.

“Me neither,” I
said suddenly and then became
embarrassed to have divulged that discomfort to a complete stranger, even if he had done
it
first.

“You too?” He seemed to feel slight
ly
more relaxed
at my acknowledgement
and by affect more…human.

“Ever since I was younger
and found my…gift.
It set me apart from everyone else
.”

He nodded sincerely. “You are definitely unique.”

I
felt there was a hidden meaning
behind his comment
,
but I wanted to veer away from me as the topic of conversation.
“
So, back to the business of delivering your message…”

“
A
h, yes, that…”

“Yes
…that,
” I replied
a little too abruptly
.

He didn’t seem to notice
. “
Where were we?
I believe you were about to tell me the ways you use to find
the dead
.”

“Right,” I agreed
, a little uncomfortable with his stark choice of words
. “
There are ways to find your loved one
s
who
have
passed-”

“What ways?” he
demanded,
his smile returning
to soften his assertiveness
.

“Um…why is it you ask?”

“Curious,” he replied and when he saw that wasn’t a good enough reason, he added, “I’d like to make sure you’re not a phony
, t
hat
my
money will be well spent.”

His focus
on our
conversation
still unnerved me
,
but
I had to admit his
rationale
seemed consistent with other customers’
needs for confirmation
,
so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Well, while I’m sure there is more than one way, I only use one in particular
method
. In the afterlife,
with your loved one
’
s name and their
place of death I’m able to
easily
locate them.”

He sat silent for a moment, staring.
“
Name…place of death
, eh?”

“That’s right,” I said
,
not sure whether he believed m
e.
“
And i
f your loved one had a common name, such as John Smith, I ask for the date too…to help identify them.”

H
e
leaned back in the chair, quietly assessing me
.
I noticed that his behavior had changed almost instantly. His grin was gone completely now, replaced with a tight, thin line
. The kindle in his eyes h
ad changed too, becoming muted. T
hey looked vacant,
dead. Now he didn’t lo
ok friendly at all
,
and
I felt that I was finally seeing the true Sharar.

“W
ell, was bloody good to meet ya
,” he said flatly, standing to leave.

“Did you want me to deliver a message?” I
asked
,
confused.

His response was cold, distant.
“Nah…
Just wanted me
confirmation
.”

“Confirmation about what?”

He
didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he
strapped
on his helmet
and
picked up his canvas bag.
As he sauntered away, he called over his shoulder with an
offhand
comment.
“You’re an interesting one, Messenger. I’ll give ya that.”

I couldn’t be sure because
his voice was
muffled, but he almost sounded wistful
to me
.

I watched him walk away,
toward
his bike parked not far from us at the curb.

That was when I noticed The Square was
completely
empty and the gas lamps lining the street
s of the French Quarter were now
lit and flickering hazy shadows against the old buildings.
I tensed, and my body reacted
,
as I heard Sharar’s bike start with a rumble. I glanced in his direction to find him taking off down the street.

He was gone, I told myself.
Gone.
Yet, the odd sensation I was having in re
sponse
to him hadn’t
ebbed
at all
.

Wavering between whether I should begin to figure out why I was having these sensations or
if I should
simply ignore them altogether,
I took my chair
and
folded it
. Shoving
it between the slits in the
fence panels
that encircle The Square
, I hid it behind a shrub; this
will be
my free storage space
during my stay
in
New Orleans
.

The last bit of light from dusk slipped away then
.
I was
completely
alone in the dark.
The storefronts surrounding The Square were now closed. Even Café Du Monde, a coffee shop
that stayed
open year round, was
vacant,
sending
an eerie reminder that even when it seemed that others were nearby…they
really
weren’t.

As I bent down to pick up my other chair –
this one
for the customers – I heard
a slow, quiet
whistle begin
a few feet
behind
me.

I was instantly on guard.

This hadn’t been the first time someone – even someone with ill intent – had walked up behind me in the dark
.
Only
this
time
I
wasn’t
perfectly
calm
like I normally would be,
as ludicrous as
that seems
.
Yet, the hair was still standing on the back of my neck and I was dwelling on the odd meeting with Sharar. I wasn’t sure if either
one of those
was
the reason but
…I was shaken.

In one smooth motion
,
I
turned
around
,
lifted
the
chair, collaps
ing
it with a slam
, and held it up
defensively
.
The weight of it in competition with my slim fr
ame almost took me down with it.
I stumbled
;
realizing
I must look like a bungling defender
and wanting
to kick myself
.
Steadying
my balance
,
I
looked up
and
planted
my feet in preparation,
only to find out
it wasn’t Sharar
at all.