Zoe Thanatos(9)

He took a deep breath and sat back in his chair, resting his right leg over his left. “I have what you may consider to be certain abilities that would ordinarily preclude rational logic.” He picked up the pitcher of water and poured himself a glass. He looked at her as he took a sip and tried to gauge her reaction. She looked utterly perplexed.

“So you’re some sort of...” her words dropped off in the middle. Her eyes searched around as if the answer were lying on table in front of her. Finally she shrugged and with a raise of her shoulders mumbled, “Superhero?” He couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or amused by the question.

“No. It’s nothing like that.”

“So you’re not some kind of caped crusader who goes around saving women in distress?” Whether annoyed or amused she definitely looked at him as though she thought he was crazy.

He had to laugh at the implication. No, he was not a superhero, nor was he crazy. From what he observed during his time there, superheroes were caricatures of myths, created for entertainment and consumption. He was nothing like that.

“Nothing of the kind.” He took another sip of water in an attempt to try to hide his amusement from her. Clearly she was trying to seriously understand him the only way she could think of.

“A mutant then?” she guessed.

“No! At least... at least not in the way your movies and entertainment would lead you to believe.”

Her eyes widened a fraction and her head moved back as though she were physically repelled by the information.

“Will all of your guesses come from movies?” His pretense was gone and he couldn’t hide his own amusement. For as crazy as she may have thought him to be, he wondered if she found her line of questioning to be just as crazy, if not more.

“Well, excuse me if I have nothing else to base them on!” she retorted. She absconded from the conversation as the waiter returned balancing two plates and a bottle of wine in his hands. He placed each plate in front of them and at Anne’s request refilled her glass. She took it and sipped deeply, eyeing him from the rim.

The sandwich was thick with meat and smelled delicious, making him realize he was starving. A deliberate bite was distraction enough from the conversation at hand. They ate in silence for a few minutes, but he could tell just by the look on her face that she was processing his answers and thinking of even more questions. Around them the sky deepened into a golden orange, the sun having started its descent across the Pacific to the other side of the world. The exterior lighting of the restaurant was glowing, striking a rich contrast against the blue interior of the restaurant.

She readjusted, crossing one leg over the other as she sat at the edge of the plush couch. It was difficult to imagine that she was the same woman who stood at the edge of a cliff and jumped.

“Why did you do it?” he asked. She looked up from her plate and frowned. There was a long stretch of silence as she appeared to considered the question, a fork full of meatloaf stationary in her hand. Perhaps she was also estimating how much of the truth she would reveal to him?

“We aren’t talking about me,” she finally answered before putting the fork in her mouth.

“You wanted to know why I jumped after you. I want to know why you jumped at all.”

“That should be obvious, Evan,” she pointedly replied.

“To kill yourself. Why?” He resisted the urge to frown for fear of appearing judgmental.

The fork dropped to her plate and her fingers went absentmindedly to the wineglass, twisting around the stem. “I intended to take my life.” Her eyes dropped back to the table as she took a slow sip.

He put his sandwich down and reached for a napkin. He couldn’t eat and talk about her perceived value of life at the same time. Why she thought she could question him without answering a few questions herself was unknown to him. He caught her and therefore the obligation was his to explain, but she couldn’t honestly expect to not get involved, could she?

“I just don’t understand why someone like you would want to do that.”

“Someone like me?” she asked. She shook her head and looked back up him, a fury in her brown eyes. “You don’t know anything about me.”

That much was true. “And yet, here we are.” He shrugged but didn’t look away from her. He wasn’t going to give up so easily.

“I could just as easily ask why you felt compelled to save the life of someone you don’t know.”

“Isn’t that what people do here?” he asked.

“Here? Where? Ventura? California?”

He shook his head at the misspoken word. “I just mean... isn’t that what anyone else would have done?”