Until Lambs Become Lions- Mumford & Sons

Chapter Fourteen

Jillian

    I received a call from Ben fairly early in the morning the next day. He was adamant about arranging a second date between Marcus and I, as he felt any real chance of a connection was ruined by Marcus's snoring. I personally thought this was a ploy to have us have another go at it, and to stretch out the whole thing, but I respected the two of them, so I tried not to let on.

To be honest, I had to think a bit about the date. It was awkward sure, but I was a fairly awkward person given, and it was an odd situation. I had a good time. Their music was great, so great I needed to buy an album of sorts. I could probably bum a copy from Marcus if we did see again, as I'm sure they cranked them out in Ben's garage or something. Okay, that's a reason to see him again. For his music.

His personality? Warm, inviting, humorous by nature? I dunno, he was sweet, but it's clear to see he's been through some stuff. Of course, physically, he had the voice of some kind of angel, with gorgeous eyes and lovely black hair, and rather youthful cheeks. If I was still being honest, he was heavier, but only in the sense that I literally had to carry him. And I don't typically carry grown men anyhow, no matter the weight.

Besides, he had a sort of fullness that was practical for fruity things that were hard for me to envision, but at the same time they came easily in my mind. Like hugging. And cuddling. And whatever fruitful couple-y thing there was.

Back to my conversation with Ben.
Ben only wanted a second date to occur if we both went out of our way for it to happen. As in, I needed to contact Marcus, or vice versa. As in, no more support from Uncle Ben, we were on our own, with our great powers and great responsibilities.

"So, um.... D'you think you can send me his number,then? I guess?"

"Absolutely! I'll text it to ya!"  

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  "So, Uh... Sorry about the other night."

I had gone out of my way, (or should I say comfort-level) to text Marcus and invite him to get some late night coffee with me in a little cafe I was trying to frequent in Shepard's Bush. I just longed to go into a place and for them to nod at me and say "Sup, Jill. The regular?" For now, I figured, why not have a second date?

"It's okay."

He laughed. "I-ha! I must've been a heavy load, Jesus."

I looked at him with a straight face, unblinking. I would not have him put himself down. "Are you calling me weak?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you calling me weak?"

He flushed, his eyebrows raised, his mouth opened and questioning. "No, I-"

"You think I can't carry a grown man? Do I look like a child to you?" I was smiling at my ridiculous confidence fiercely on the inside. I was teasing him, and he didn't even notice.

"No, it's just-"

"I'm a bit ashamed you think I'm so weak."

He let off his protesting, opting for a troubled slug of his coffee. A pause ensued.

"D'know what kills me?" he had swallowed his drink, and annunciated his voice with a remarkable, proper clarity.

"What?"

"You actually believe that life can have an intense purpose and meaning that is nearly void of being faulted."

I tried to keep an air of cool, although I was interested at what he was getting at, and a little surprised at his tone.

"I don't follow."

"Well, think of it this way, Jillian." he clasped his hands together at this, my name rolling off his tongue in a sassy matter, more condesending than I expected.

"You, and many others live your life every day and see only the white. Meanwhile, and, hear me out on this, there is a black and there is a gray. Hidden in these are the real struggles and faults of this world and of man. But to me, it seems like you intentionally only view the white. Why is that?" His eyes looked like a milky galaxy, they might as well have been as he stared off into his thoughts. They centered and focused as I tried to process his accusation of my character. It was a most interesting thought he proposed.

"Well, Marcus, I think you are only seeing one side of it, a certain slant you view your perspective from, if you will." He nodded for me to continue, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I don't view the world in such a sense of purity, or even perfection for that matter." I held his attention.

"On the contrary, I view it with varying shades of both good and bad. I'll admit there are things that fall into the gray area, which I find confusing to define. But I see a lot of black, and I suppose with that, you see a lot of darkness."

I thought of his song, and almost imagined he would respond "darkness is a harsh term, don't you think?" I could barely think straight enough to realize what thoughts and theroy I was beggining to pour out at him. It was just happening.

"I see the darkness. Heck, I live the darkness. I fill up my demeanor with enough misleading gray though, that I convince people it's all white. In reality, it's darker than ever. And, and really, there is no perfection. Only faults. I like faults though. Faults you can live with, it's better to admit they're there, and appreciate them, rather than lie about perfection.

He blinked once, his mouth curving into a purse.

"So- so it's not all smiles?"

I smiled at him. "No, it's not all smiles."

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    Somehow it made sense to us to talk about these deep life ideas. I typically wouldn't think I knew him enough to do
so, or to reveal that I did see the world with an air of cynicism, but he had gone out and accused me of optimism, and I had to persuade him otherwise. Date-wise I dont know how it went. We didnt talk about hobbies or goals or boyfriend things, the whole night consisted of a back and forth of how we saw the world. Somehow though, we sort of bonded. It felt grown up and magnificent. I wouldn't tell him, but arguing with him on it was great. He just... Got it. He saw the world for the way it actually was.

    Yeah, maybe it was bleak and sad and full of wishful-thinkers, but it was also outstanding, and capable of astounding, great beauties. I loved the way he would counter a point of mine, he would exclaim something loudly, or open his mouth in awed surprise, and I could tell he would-be quick to fire his side back. He sarcastically spoke about America and how "it's clear the Revolutionary War was rigged." I accidentally stumbled across his love for football, and began to jokingly bash the whole idea for the sport, not to mention his "blind faith that it would one day not be pointless." At one point I said something and he stood up, his hands at his head, and he paced in a short route, muttering "I can't believe this woman, she's absolutely bonkers!"

This sent me into a small fit of giggles. At the end, he said something
I can't recall, but it was so awful I groaned an "Oh, I can't stand you!"

To which he took offense and went "Well I can't stand you!"

"Good!"

"Good!"

At this point we had long finished our coffees, and both shot to our feet.

"It's been fun!" I exclaimed, still in the mock anger. I put out my hand for him to shake.

"It's been bleak!" he responded, smiling for a second and grabbing my hand in a shake.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"I'm leaving then!"

"Go ahead!"

"Let go of my hand!"

We both looked down at our hands, forgotten in the handshake, yet clutched tightly in our silly tempers.

     He huffed with a grin and let go, his typical composure returning. "There's, " he took a breath with his smile, "there's some museum opening we're playing in a couple nights. You, you can come if you want. I promise you it will be probably be bleak, no, miserable."

I smiled. A chance to see this dreadful man again? "I'd love to."

"Good, I'll message you the details."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna leave now."

"Bye-ee!" I exclaimed sarcastically.

"I need to get away from you anyway!" he rebutted, grinning as he excited the table, and backed away.

"I couldn't stand you either!"

"Bye!"

"Bye!"

Haha they're such cynical losers I'm so sorry also this chap seems long? Idk Yet again,sorry