Before I Knew His Name

Rebecca sat on the nice, dark leather couch. It looked almost Victorian style but still had that modernized feel to it.

She scrolled through Facebook as she waited for him. The man who would supposedly ‘change her life.’

As if, she thought.

Every post or profile claims they want to find the girl of their dreams, when what they really want is a ‘hit and quit’ as the teens call it now.

Still, she said yes. Tanner’s profile didn’t promise much, and maybe that’s why it felt honest. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone–just like she wasn’t trying to be impressed.

He chose to meet at the town's oldest cafe, The Bleeding Heart. She was surprised he wanted to meet here seeing as not many people know about this place, not since Starbucks came into town. It’s been there since before her parents were born.

She shut her phone off and started looking around at the old building. She noticed the wood in the walls were darker, more worn. The shades over the windows were all thin and barely worked to keep light out, even with the black color of the curtain.

Light fixtures hung down looking rusted with yellow, candle-like lights on them. Interesting for a ‘candle’ to be upside down she thought as her phone vibrated on the armrest.

She didn’t check it. Not yet, he’d be here when he gets here, or not. She refused to get her hopes up, and have expectations. Rebecca learned from a young age not to count on anyone.

She checked her watch, 12:26 pm. She’d give him 10 more minutes before she left. She felt that was fair, since he was supposed to be here about fifteen minutes ago.

She tilted her head back and pulled her long red hair into a quick, messy bun. She pulled two small pieces down by her face to help complement her bright green eyes.

She’d decided to wear a simple outfit today, some grey jeans, red v-cut shirt, leather jacket, and white shoes. She didn’t want to try too hard, but she felt she looked nice.

She was about to reach for her phone when she heard the front door open. Immediately she smelled the scent of woods and trees–she couldn’t place what it was, something clean, earthly, and wild all at the same time.

She looked over, eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of the smell. Then she saw him–tall, handsome, and walking straight toward her.

She stood up and smiled brightly. You wouldn’t be able to tell she had been crying the night before.

He stopped a few feet in front of her and extended his hand, she took this as a moment to study him. His hands looked rough and hard, a scar tore across his right forearm–clean like a blade.

He wore a plain black shirt, blue jeans, and camo crocs. She shook his hand and stifled back a laugh–maybe he wasn’t just your average guy.

“You must be Rebecca, you’re very pretty.”

He smiled lightly, not the kind of smile that lights up your face, more like a pained smile.

She could tell he meant it, but there was something else behind his eyes. The way his brown hair sheltered the sides of his face, and his goatee hung right below his chin, just enough she could reach up and grab a little.

“Well thank you, you must be Tanner. Nice to meet you.”

She let her hand fall to her side as she looked him in the eyes. He had bright blue eyes, she could say like the sky or ocean, but even those two couldn’t compare.

She stood and stared for a minute before blinking a few times and chuckling nervously.

She felt a pull towards him that she’d never felt towards anyone before. She couldn’t tell what it was, if it was the hidden traumas he may have or maybe the camo crocs are what did it.

Rebecca was stunned at herself, but she wouldn't make a move before knowing what she could be getting herself into.

“So, Ms. Rebecca… What kinda woman meets a stranger in a place called The Bleeding Heart?” He asked as he pulled her chair out and took the seat across from her. She sat with a smile.

The tables were made of old mahogany wood with gold trimming; they looked tired and used but still shone under the soft glow of the light.

Black, rustic placemats sat in the center, holding sugars, napkins, and the usual accoutrements. The surrounding chairs matched with old beaten leather cushions.

Everything, though old looking and dark, still held so much beauty to her. She’d always found beauty in the dark and broken.

“What kind of man asks a woman to meet her at a mysterious place called The Bleeding Heart?” She replied, taking a sip of water, the waitress had set down, nodding towards him.

He squinted slightly, chuckling as he leaned back in his chair. A slow nod followed, and she noticed a mark on his left temple. It didn’t really look like a scar to her–more like a birthmark. She wasn’t too sure.

“I’m thirty, not from around here originally, but moved here about three months ago.” He ordered a jack and coke from the waitress, looking back at Rebecca he seemed to relax in his chair a bit as his hands fall to his lap.

She studied him for a moment before looking to the floor. It looked like an old century house floor, with rocks stomped down into mud; except it looked cleaner and still of this century.

She wondered how something so simple and harsh could be so beautiful yet overlooked at the same time.

Rebecca traced the rim of her glass while resting her head on her hand, “Three months you say? What brings a man like yourself to a town like this one?”

She watched his face for a moment after asking her question, noticing his eyebrow twitch slightly. He cleared his throat while readjusting in his chair a little.

“Just looking for something I lost.” He responded shrugging lightly, there was something in the way he said it, the way the air shifted around her. She felt a chill run down her spine in a way that leaves you questioning.

“You don’t seem like the kind to lose things.” She straightens in her chair slightly, trying to shake off the feeling yet appear neutral all the same. His mouth twitches slightly as his eyes meet hers.

“I’m not, that’s why I’m fighting so hard to find it.” His voice was even, but something behind his eyes resembled anger.

It unsettled her a little, whatever it was, it wasn’t simple and she wasn’t sure she wanted to stick around to find out what it is. When she opened her mouth to respond she noticed he was looking past her, not at her.

She twists to match his gaze at the corner of the cafe. A pair of older men were sitting, looking over some newspapers. It seemed to her they were minding their business, but she supposed they could have been watching.

No, that's absurd, she thought, this isn’t a movie, Rebecca.

She narrows her eyes slightly before turning back and meeting his gaze, “Some people move to get away,” she says after a pause, “yet you move to find something.”

“Someone,” he mutters, barely audible but enough that she barely caught what he’d said, “It’s nothing important.”

But it was. She could feel it settle in her gut, even if she couldn’t tell why.