David
"I told you! I don't have any money! Please, leave me, please!" Amariah cried out while sobbing. Her cries were in vain as we were in the alley that I pushed her in, and I was blocking the only exit. "Come on, petite nana, you gotta at least have a few Euros on you. Don't make me check you." Even though we we're both 13, I called her a petite nana because, well I guess it made me feel stronger. "No. Viol! Leave me alone! I only have a piece of cake." She showed me a tiny piece of cake from her pocket wrapped in paper. I knew her family was poor and wasn't really surprised that that's all she had. I was honestly scared when she yelled rape, but then I remembered that no one could hear her. Sigh...Then I did something really despicable. I then snatched the pastry out of her hands and dropped it in a puddle. "Oops", I said. Amariah began to sob even more miserably. Then, I proceeded to grab her by the shoulders. "David! Please! No, please stop!" I threw her in the same muddy puddle as I did the cake. "You better come back with at least 10 Euros next time.", I said. I spit on her pants as she lay in the puddle and left. Amariah was sobbing so violently and with pure pain. I felt somewhat sorry for her, but I needn't have been. She was just some poor, pathetic girl, I thought.
Now, like three years later, I came to grips to the reality of what I had done to that sweet, lovely girl. That loving creation which I had spat upon. That beautiful soul unspoiled by earthly wealth. Ugh, Accordemoi la misericorde.
**********
"Are you sure I should go on with this?" I asked Jules."What do you mean, 'Are you sure I should go on with this'?" He quoted me with a rather unflattering imitation of me. Jules is the confident, yet often inconsiderate one of my two best friends. I keep him around because he's a great wing man of mine and he often doesn't give a, uh, toss about anything he does. Sometimes that's a negative point when he insults me, but I know it's playful.
"What you need to do is show up, admit that you were an abusive creep, and say you're sorry." He continued.
"But I don't even know how she looks like. It's been three years since I moved to Paris, and she might not even remember who I am." I told him.
Jules then slapped my face with his backhand. It hurt a good amount and I was tempted to slap his face back, but I restrained myself.
"What are you talking about? You think that Amariah forgot about a guy that threw her in mud in an alley? And you know what she looks like. Francine showed you her Facebook." He replied.
"Well, if you don't think you can tell her just yet, we can still turn off the lights with this bowl of raisins and chocolate chips and play "Is this a Raisin or a Chocolate Chip?". Valentine chimed in. Valentine is definitely the weirder of my two best friends. Much of the time he blurts out random, yet amusing comments. I keep him around because, well he's funny. Although I don't think he means to be.
"What?" Jules and I both inquired.
"Well, OK. I'll play in your parents' room." Valentine then got his bowl of raisins and chocolate chips and left for my parents's room. Sometimes his weirdness scares me.
"If I have to apologize to her, can you be my wingman?" I asked Jules.
"You always need a wingman. Even when saying sorry to some girl you bullied in middle school." Jules said.
After we called Francine, Jules' current girlfriend and a friend of Amariah's, to ask her where Amariah is, we then found out that she's at a cafe on the Seine riverfront. That cafe in particular is pretty busy on Saturdays, but I guess we have no choice but to carry on with the plan.
Jules and I asked if Valentine wanted to tag along, but he said something about beating his high score on that raisin-chocolate chip game, so we just let him be.
***
Francine told us that Amariah was outside a cafe called Cafe Soleil and that it was super-busy today, and she wasn't kidding. People, mostly tourists, were rushing every which way, coffee in hand. We figured that Amariah would be sitting on the outdoor seats drinking coffee, so we scanned all of the patrons of the cafe who were sitting down.
We were surveying the scene when, after half a minute, Jules pointed her out near the door of the cafe, talking to her ffriends. When she was thirteen, Amariah was beautiful, but now, she was simply immaculate. She had long, golden hair that shimmered in the light. Her eyes were a bright, crystal-blue. Her skin was without blemish. She just seemed angelic and graceful. I then felt a pang of guilt for what I've done to such a magnificent girl. It actually took awhile to fully recognize her.
After admiring her for a full minute, she caught my gaze and had to double-take. Her mouth opened and she showed an expression of fear, and maybe disgust. She recognized me instantly. Amariah then stood up with her friends staring at her in inquiry. She walked up to me a meter away from where I was standing, her hot coffee still in one hand. She asked me, "Are you David? David Benedicta?". I then replied, "Yes. Are you Amariah Haven? Listen, I..." Before I could finish, she looked at her coffee and threw the hot beverage at my face.
