Marcus and Rayna’s Story

 

The young woman sat in the corner of the little cafe sipping her latte, writing in her journal and listening to something through her hot pink earbuds. She looked up with an expression on her face that showed recollection of a time long ago. A hint of sadness and longing, or maybe both. All Marcus could think of was that he had never seen such beautiful heartache on anyone before. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. How could one face tell so much?

He imagined she had lived a lifetime of deep love, intense sorrow with moments of joy. How was it possible that someone so young could carry that much of life with her? After watching her from a few tables away for the last two hours, Marcus estimated that her age couldn’t be more than that of 35-40. She wasn’t beautiful by today’s worldly standards, but there was something about her that was lovely, poised, graceful…traits hard to find nowadays. If Marcus didn’t know better, he would have thought her a time-traveler. She looked as if she could easily have fit in during a totally different era.

Swap the clothing. Remove the laptop and cell phone. Take off the reading glasses and get rid of the bottled water she was reaching for, and voila. Marcus could write an entire story on this woman set in the 1800s on the wide-open plains in a covered wagon headed west. How about biblical times? He could see her carrying a large clay water pot on her shoulders as she headed for the common well in the center of town. She would laugh with the other women as they gossiped about which one was newly betrothed or who had just delivered twin and lived to tell about it!

The woman closed her eyes as if taking a moment to pray. From this distance, Marcus really couldn’t tell why her eyes were closed. Reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair that had come loose from her headband that held her dark mahogany locks back from her face, Marcus noticed the long chain around her neck with something at the end that she held between her fingers. As her eyes remained closed, he could see her lips moving. She was either praying or talking to herself.

Marcus’ imagination just went from first gear to fourth in about two seconds. The writer in him knew there was a story here. He had to tamp down the urge to get up and walk over to her table and ask her to tell him everything. That would be ridiculous for him to do and a whole lot creepy for her to have to watch. So he continued to observe her. It wasn’t stalking, he told himself. He was just doing some research for his next novel. Marcus knew he would have to speak with her before leaving the café, even if it were just to ask if she would agree to be the inspiration for his next novel. The main character to be exact. He would explain that it would fictional and would hold his breath until she said yes.

Reaching for his sketch pad and pencils, Marcus started to sketch an outline of her face. Strictly for research and a possible cover for his book. It wasn’t likely that he would ever forget her face, but just in case, Marcus sketched away. He had taken art classes all through high school and college. If it weren’t for his writing passion, he would have been a starving artist. Instead, he remembered all too well the years of being a starving author.

Adding a few things to his sketch, he noticed she moved as if she were startled. The olive-skinned beauty looked at her cell phone with a look that was anything but joyful. The word irritated sprung to Marcus’s mind. As she pulled the earbud from her ear and picked up her phone, rather than answering it, she stared at the screen. Shaking her head, she sat it down with a smack and slid the phone across the table as if not wanting to deal with whatever was on the other end.

Staring at his sketch, it was easy for him to see her working in her garden or picking figs from the fig trees that had been planted by her forefathers’ hundreds of years earlier. He could also imagine her weaving wool for clothes and blankets and dying them into stunning colors of purples and scarlet. Oh dear…Marcus was already being sucked into another time and place. If he wasn’t careful, he could lock himself away in another era and not come out until the last words of what he needed to say were penned. He wasn’t certain he could do that again. Not now. He needed a breather from his last book. It had taken two years and a lot more out of him than he had dreamed. He thought his mind was dried up. At least that’s what he told himself. Sometimes he just couldn’t help himself. The story would reach into his soul and take over his life. His mind, hands, eyes all became controlled by the story that brewed inside until it was exposed and out in the opened.

The dark-haired beauty got up. Presumably to get another drink or use the restroom. Marcus watched with surprise as she paused directly in front of his table. With his sketchbook out and his notepad open, he tried not to stare. She was much taller than he’d imagined. Marcus was staring. He hoped his mouth wasn’t hanging open. She was not looking at him but staring at the sketch. Marcus felt his hands start to sweat. What was he going to do if she spoke? For 10 seconds, at least, she just stood there. Staring. From this close, he realized that the picture was an incredible reincarnation of her own likeness. That’s what he was hoping for, but with so little time, he didn’t think it would be very accurate. The haunted look in her eyes and the posture of her shoulders and gracefulness of her hands were right on the mark.

“Oh my goodness. Is that me?” she spoke in a low voice with a hint of a middle eastern accent.

“Well, it’s supposed to be. You caught my attention and I started tracing your outline. I hope you don’t mind. You have a very poetic and fascinating look. As an artist by desire only, I couldn’t help myself. It’s something I like doing. I’m a writer but like to dabble in sketching. I apologize, I don’t mean to keep you. Please forgive the ramblings of an old guy.” Marcus was flustered and that only happened when he had to communicate with people. Typically he preferred his fictional characters.

“Oh please, there is nothing to forgive. I’m flattered that you thought I was interesting enough to draw. It’s very intriguing. Is that the way you see me? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it looks like me, but yet not like me. I’m sorry. I sometimes have a hard time putting my thoughts into words, but I think what I’m trying to say is that it looks like me, but not from now. Does that make sense? Like a lifetime ago.” she reached again for that strand of hair that refused to stay back and put it behind her ear.

“Actually it makes perfect sense. I’m just surprised you figured it out. When I saw you, you looked like a woman from another time. A time-traveler. Now I’m sure you think I’m crazy, but it was just the feeling I got. I guess it came out in my drawing somehow.”

Comfortably quiet for a moment, Marcus felt no awkwardness. He hoped she didn’t either. This might be a good time to ask her if he could write a story about her, but he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“You’re going to think this is crazy, but like I said…I’m a writer. Novels and short stories. I was wondering if I could use you as an inspiration for my next novel?” he asked hesitantly. So much for no awkwardness! The young woman stared at him as if he had the third eye.

“I’ve been observing you for the last couple hours and I find you fascinating,” he immediately realized his error and felt the hole he was digging, just get deeper. Good job Marcus!

“Oh…please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not a stalker or any other creepy person. I’m only gathering research and data for my next story. I finished a very long novel a couple weeks ago and was looking forward to a break, but my writers mind has other plans. You walked into my cafe, and now I have an incredible story that I want to tell and would like your permission to make you the main character.” Marcus took a much-needed breath and hoped his eyes didn’t look as desperate as his voice sounded.

“Are you serious? No one’s ever been interested in me before…like that. Without even getting to know me first. I’m not sure there is enough about me to fill a book and I’m not comfortable at all having my life exposed to the world.”

The mysterious woman looked like she was going to bolt. He was taken back when she sat down in the empty chair across from him and looked directly into his eyes for a few seconds before continuing.

“I’m a private person, sir. My life is simple and not that exciting. But I am intrigued. Can you tell me a little more about how this would work?” she asked.

“Well, first of all, I should introduce myself. I’m Marcus. I’ve written a few novels and am an artist on the side. I love traveling and observing people,” Marcus smiled.

“Yes, I think we’ve established that part,” she smiled back.

“Coffee is as important to me as air. I rent a loft that is 80% library/office and 20% bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. My parents died when I was 12 and I was raised by my grandparents. No siblings. I’ve been a widow for 10 years. We had no children. Always thought we’d have plenty of time and didn’t feel the rush. Next thing we know, the doctor is saying cancer and scheduling chemo and radiation schedules. Within a year she was gone.”

Marcus stopped talking and realized it had been many years since he had shared his personal life with anyone. Neither one spoke for what seemed like forever.

“Hi, Marcus. Thank you for sharing that part of your life with me, a complete stranger. You are very brave and I am very sorry for your loss. I’m Rayna. Rayna Cohen. I have two younger siblings which I haven’t seen since we were separated as children after our parents were killed in Israel a long time ago. We had no relatives that were close, so were put into an orphanage. My little brothers were 3 and 5 at the time so they were chosen for adoption within a short time. As for me? Well, no one wanted a 12-year-old girl on the verge of puberty, angry at the world and a bad case of pimples. Everyone wants a baby, and I was grateful my brothers were chosen by a nice family and able to stay together. I wasn’t so lucky. In and out of foster homes over the next 4 years, I finally got a job and became an Emancipated Minor at 16. I finished my compulsory education at 18 and did my military service obligation for the next 2 years. My grades in school were good enough to get a full-ride scholarship in America at 10 different universities. All the way from Texas to Massachusetts. I had a hard time choosing since I knew nothing about America. Long story, but in short, I ended up going to Johns Hopkins University in Maryland for my undergrad and stayed all the way through med school.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you said your life wasn’t interesting. That’s a lot of education. How old are you anyway? You don’t have to answer, but I was just curious. You look too young to have accomplished all of that.” Marcus asked.

“Well, I’m not going to tell you my age. I barely know you, but I will say that while doing my military service in Israel, I was also able to get a head start on my undergrad classes, so when I actually started, I was a third-year,” Rayna smiled, remembering how exciting those days were.

Don’t stop now. I’m on the edge of my seat. Please continue.” Marcus said with sincerity as he noticed her blush.

“My coffee is cold. I’m getting a refill…you want one?” Rayna asked as she rose from the chair.

“I can get my own. I need to make a quick call, but don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back,” Marcus looked directly at her.

“Okay, just a little while longer. I do have other things to do on my day off, ya know?” she smiled. “I promise I’ll be here when you get back.”