Part 2

When Cornel walked out, the volcanic ash and snow gently drifted from the sky, mixing into a grey sludge on the pavement. The afternoon street was empty and only the slow traffic measured time. He always thought of traffic as amphibian – the colder the weather, the slower it moved.

He saw the girl squatting under the display window of an ice-cream shop. Face buried in her palms, knees pulled to her chest, coat wrapped tight in the cold, wet street. Her shoulders jerked in short, beastly sobs. A torn, mangled scratcher lay beside her scuffed shoe.

“Didn’t win?” He grinned.

She startled, jerked and scrambled backward, boots slipping and palms scraping pavement to get away. Her eyes were swollen and red, mascara streaked in crooked streams down her cheeks.

“Get lost,” she said hoarsely.

Cornel crouched next to her. She wiped her nose with her sleeve and stared at the ground.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she whimpered.

“You know you didn’t have to buy it, right?”

She looked up sharply.

“Yes, I did.”

“No,” he said. “You chose to. You decided the ticket mattered that much.”

She stared at him. Her lip trembled. She looked away again, shoulders folding inward. Cornel leaned in. Her breath hitched and tears spilled again. He heard her stomach grumble. She turned her face away, her small hands pressing at her eyes.

“Go away,” she whispered. “Just go. I didn’t even want to buy them,” she said. “The tickets. But sometimes you gotta try. Sometimes life is worse when you don’t try.”

“I understand.” He nodded thoughtfully.

“You shouldn’t have messed with me. You abused me.” She sniffled.

“I didn’t mess with you. I tested you.” He put his hand on her shoulder. She jerked away.

“Test what?”

“Test how badly you wanted something,” he said. “That matters. You see,” he continued, “there are people who want things, and people who need things. And the ones who need them are the ones who lose. You lost because you needed it.”

“That’s not true,” she snapped weakly. “I didn’t need it.”

“You’re crying on the sidewalk. It means you cared. Caring is weakness.”

“You’re a monster.”

“I’m just being honest. Trust me, no one else will ever be this honest with you. They will nod, and they will give a dollar, but the truth is, they like to see you here, right here, crying on the dirty, wet ground.”

“Shut up. I don’t want honesty,” she said. “I just want…”

“What?”

She didn’t answer.

“I see,” he said. “You want it to stop hurting. You want today not to matter. You want that money and those tickets to be unimportant.”

“I just want a minute in the sun.” Her shoulders collapsed inward, and tears spilled again. She wiped them angrily. “Please stop talking. I hate you.”

“Why? I showed you something you don’t want to see. I showed you how easy it is to take things from you.”

The words landed hard, and tears spilled freely.

“Let me help you. You want someone to tell you this wasn’t your fault, but I’m not going to do that.”

Her voice broke, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You did. You showed your weakness. And those long thin limbs, thin body, and curved spine. You didn’t have a choice. You were born weak. You were not meant to make it. And you won’t,” he said the last sentence with a stern loud voice and watched the pain of her frayed mind unravel.

The girl jumped up. She bent over him. He gave her a hard, disdainful smirk.

“Monster!” she screamed into his face, jumped up, and ran across the road. Tires screeched and a thud followed. The street went quiet. Cornel slowly stood up and dusted the ash off his pants.