100 Theme Challenge #95

95. Loneliness

Do you come from the stars or rise from the black pit? 
Destiny, bewitched, follows your skirts like a dog; 
You sow at random joy and disaster, 
And you govern all things but answer for nothing.

Samantha was working as a waitress in a small dinner. Quite the classic way to start a story, wasn't it? Well, Samantha knew she was better than serving old sexually harassing peeps, but she had no clue what she wanted to do in life, so she'd settle for an easy job that was allowing her to paint during her free time. Artist material wasn't the cheapest, and she preferred to buy a certain quality, if she was to buy anything. It lasted longer that way. She had sold a few paintings before, nothing to become rich, but it paid a month's rent, and that was enough. Painting was a hobby of hers, she probably would never gain money enough out of it to survive, sadly.

That was the reason she kicked herself up each day to stretch a bit, eat and paint a while before heading to work. Hopefully, she wasn't working with Tim that night. He loved to make sexual innuendos at her, and no complaints had changed anything to that. At least the tips were good, so she endured it.

She kept waiting for a sign, anything to guide her through her decision. It felt stupid even to her, but as long as she kept telling herself that, she wouldn't fall into the gloom of her life. At least she could talk to Mister Mysterious to cheer herself up. Of course that wasn't his real name, but he never really talked about himself much and she grew tired of calling him the customer-who-was-coming-every-day. He would always order a cup of coffee, black, and sometimes a soup or apple pie, but that was it. In the two months he became a regular, he would never try to discuss with her unless she was the one initializing the conversation. He was kind and soft in his replies though, despite his ruffled, grumpy appearance. He had a complicated, dark past that hunched his shoulders and made his eyes wary at all time. Whatever he had lived through, Samantha did not want to live the same.

Sadly, Tim was working when she arrived and he winked at her while crudely licking his lips. She scowled and hurried in the back. It would be a long shift. Around 3 AM, she found Mister Mysterious sitting at his usual booth, reading a book.

"Hey there," she greeted him. "What are you reading?"

He showed her the cover. Les Fleurs du Mal, by Charles Baudelaire.

"I didn't know you like poetry."

"Did you read it?" He asked her.

"I do read a few of his poems once in a while, yes. I love Hymn to Beauty."

He nodded, a side of his mouth perking up, but he didn't say anything.

"So what will it be today? We have sugar pie."

"Then I'll take that, and coffee, please."

"Right away," she smiled and took off, slapping away the wandering hand of an old customer. Mister Mysterious was always polite with her, thus one of the reasons she liked to discuss with him. She served him and went off to serve some other customers before coming back.

"Can I sit with you, I don't have anyone to serve at the moment."

He showed her the opposite seat, inviting her, and she sat down with a sigh.

"That feels good, my feet are killing me already."

Mister Mysterious pushed his almost untouched pie towards her. "Here, eat it, I don't like that."

Samantha scoffed in amusement. She knew that was his way of showing his care for her, in his tactless attitude. He was simple, and she appreciated that.

"Thank you," she replied, and dug the fork in the soft pie. She slowly ate as Mister Mysterious continued to read, and she smirked when she noticed he was at Hymn to Beauty.

"Do you like it?" She asked, still eyeing the poem.

"Poems are subjective, but I do have a liking to the way Baudelaire always linked Beauty and Evil together. Don't you believe they go hand in hand?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes Evil is ugly. Look at my coworker."

He chuckled low in his throat, his long fingers wrapped around his coffee cup as if to warm them up. "But it can also be very seductive. It's so much easier to agree to do something bad when the person who suggests it is beautiful. The temptation is even stronger."

Samantha blinked, tried to understand what he meant. "Did this happen to you?"

It took him a moment before he looked up at her, eyes sad. "I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind. It's a past I don't want to wander in."

"All right. Would you like your usual apple pie? I can go fetch it in the back if you want."

He continued to stare at her as he shook his head. "No thank you."

She left his table a bit later, as some customers wanted to be served, and when she turned around, he was gone with only a few bills left. As usual, he had given her a large tip, way more than what she was used to, but he claimed it was for her to buy artist supplies, as she wouldn't do so unless she had enough to live through another month. He was truly a good man, it was only sad he didn't think he deserved happiness of his own, because of something of his past he kept like a millstone attached to his ankle. Samantha felt for him, but hoped at the same time loneliness wouldn't eat her up like it happened for him.

.

He watched her from afar walk from the dinner to her small apartment, not once looking back even with the catcalls and the dirty names thrown at her. He watched as she dropped her bag and looked at her painting, probably already thinking on the next step in its creation. He watched enough to make sure she was safe before he turned around and hugged once more the darkness, a book clutched in his hand.

(What is 100TC?)

The poem is from Hymn to Beauty, by Baudelaire. I have an undying love for this poet.