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“Ha! Trying to figure me out? Good luck, Sweetheart. Nobody has figured me out yet. Ain’t nobody going to, either.”
“Why are you so angry?” she asks again.
“Why do you care?”
“You are a puzzle to me, and I like to figure out puzzles. I want to know what I can do to help.”
“Who said I needed help?”
“You clearly do.”
I cock my head to the side and look at her. She stares right back and does not back down from the challenge.
“I'm not doing this tonight,” I laugh and say. Thankful for the distraction of food the waitress put in front of us during our staring contest, I begin shuffling food into my mouth like a man-eating his last supper. I don’t have it nearly as bad as I did when my mother left and I would go days without eating. My foster parents provide food now. I don’t always like it, but at least it’s there. But every once and a while my mind goes back to that fourteen-year-old kid who didn’t have anything. I know I don't need to hoard this meal but sometimes my mind plays tricks when I least expect it.
Steadying my breath, I wash down the mouthful of pancakes with some coffee. What am I doing here, sitting with some girl... “I don't even know your name, and you are asking me personal questions?” I finally look at her and say, and I realize she isn’t eating. She is just watching me closely. She takes that moment to pick up her fork and dig into the plate we are sharing.
“I asked you a question first,” she says simply.
Okay, I don’t care how cute she is, she is starting to piss me off. “Would you believe me if I told you I am a spawn of Satan?” I let out an evil laugh. Her eyes flick to me and for the first time, I see her flinch. She wasn’t expecting me to say that.
Gotcha, beautiful.
As quickly as the shock is there, it disappears.
“Hmm interesting, do tell,” she says around a bite.
“Actually my father is the spawn of Satan. I’m just his offspring. I was told when I turn eighteen I will be cursed with anger. My mother left me with this knowledge at the tender age of fourteen. She left me with my demon daddy, of all people. I don't even know who my father is at this point because they ripped me out of his home, but somehow, he’ll still curse me.” I take a breath, not knowing why I just told this girl all of this. I don’t think I've told anyone any of that, ever.
“A demon daddy and curses...that's some heavy stuff.”
I laugh. “You think?”
“What if I tell you, you were meant for better? What if I tell you that God has a plan for your life?”
“I would say, who do you think you are telling me what I should be doing? Here is what you should do, Phoenix, here is how you should be doing it...don't you think I heard it all before?”
“I honestly don't know what you have heard, but I think I can help you if you would let me—”
“And who the hell are you?”
“You don't have to swear at me.”
I sip my coffee and look at the angelic creature across from me. I've never seen anyone who looks like her before her. Her long, black braids surround her face, brown like the coffee that we’re drinking. Her eyes wide, her mouth bows in a slight smile before she digs into her pancakes, waiting for me to respond to her original question about the plan for my life, but I really don't know what to say.
“What's your end-game here, girl?”
“My name is not ‘girl’.”
“Then what is it?”
“Oh, you finally ask?”
“Don't play games, just tell me your name.”
“My name is Tamryn.”
I sit back and roll the name around in my head a bit. “Okay, and why haven't I seen you at youth group, other than a handful of times before tonight, but you seem to have been watching me for years?”
