She found him sitting there, on the bench; he didn't look like he fit in.
He looked like everyone else on the street.
She tucked her pin straight blond hair behind her ears, tucked her arms thicker under her coat and sat down next to him.
He hardly looked up.
His dark brown hair swished around his face in the cold wind, and although his cheeks were red with cold, and his nose looked numb.
He didn't move.
"Bonjour Monsieur, pourquoi vous êtes seul sur cette froide nuit?" She asked, patting a hand on his leg.
He raised his eyebrows and turned his head slightly to look at her.
"I don't speak French." He said in thick German.
"Oh, well neither do I." She laughed.
The man just sighed and put his head back down.
"What are you thinking about in there?" She asked in her thick French accent.
"Nothing." He said.
"Nothing? How can you think of nothing?" She asked.
"No, I'm thinking about what happens when there's nothing, when I'm gone. Just, nothing…" he snapped back.
She simply raised her eyebrows at him.
He sighed and said "I'm Georg." He held out a hand. His way of apologizing.
"Marie." She nodded, shaking his worn, calloused hands.
He nodded his head, smiling slightly.
"So…" She said after a moment, "tell me about this 'Nothing'."
"It's not Nothing, It's just not me."The two of them sat there in silence.
The sounds of the street in front of them echoed off the tall, well lit building behind them.
Mothers walked their tired children home and lovers strolled down the sidewalks hand in hand.
The two simply sat and watched their breaths rise in a fog in front of them.
"What if I died today?" Georg suddenly said, turning around to face her.
"Then I'd be sad." She said automatically.
"No, but If I died today?" He asked looking at her in a worrying frenzied fashion.
"Who would turn off my coffee pot? Would there be a street parade? Would I just be an afterthought?" he asked her, eyes imploring.
Now, most people would have answered the question, answered it and gone on about how he shouldn't think that way, that nothing good would come of it.
But not Marie.
No, she was the sort that knew when to simply be quiet.
"If I died today, would I still be a bassist?" he asked, he was grateful that she hadn't said anything, he was glad that even if he sounded like a mad man she was paying attention. "Or could I fly around like superman? Would I make the Sunday paper?"
Georg took a breath and sat back.
"What else?" she asked.
Georg looked at her in confusion before looking back down and speaking again.
"I just, I wonder who I'd see, Crying and standing over me. Who would just send their regards?"
Marie nodded and folded her hands on her lap primly.
"Would anybody say that 'at least he's in a better place'?" Georg asked, obviously in dire distress.
"I think they would." Marie said.
"I mean, if I died today, what would happen?"
"If I died today, would my mama keep on praying? Would Bill, Tom and Gustav go out drinking? Would my alarm clock keep on blinking? I mean, I'm sure it would, it'd go off every morning at the same time until someone noticed the noise and unplugged it…" He looked lost in thought.
His voice rose and cracked as he nearly shouted the next sentence. "If I died today,
would I need to be ashamed? Would I be easy to forget? Could I live with my regrets?"
She scrunched her nose at the sentence, it didn't seem to make sense on first hearing it, but as she thought about it, could any of us really live with our regrets after we were gone? Surely the things we did while we were alive would have an effect on those who were still living.
The two were silent for a long while as they watched the street in front of them slowly calm down and start to move at a slow hum.
Suddenly, there was a shout.
Well, more of them. About three.
Then three men were standing next to them.
One looked like a white, German thug, the second one looked like a chicken, and the third one looked like a kid who didn't want to grow up, even though he was obviously around twenty.
The one with dark make up, the kid, bent over at the waist and started panting as he clutched at his knees.
The thug hitched up his baggy pants and looked at Georg with an agitated air.
"Where were you? We've been looking everywhere for you?" The chicken asked.
Marie looked up at him.
Georg did not.
"Hellooo? Anyone I there?" the kid asked waving his hand in Georg's face.
"Yes, I'm here." Georg sighed as he looked up, his shoulders still hunched over. "Bill, get your hand out of my face." Georg snapped at the kid.
"Well sorry Mr. Bitchy Britches." He said snidely.
Marie snorted slightly.
"Who are you?" the thug asked Marie.
"That's Marie, we were talking." Georg said as he stood up.
"Right, well, we gotta go dude, Jost is having a fit and the body guards should come looking for us soon enough." The sweet faced chicken said.
Georg nodded and patted at his pockets like an old man looking for something he wasn't sure he lost.
"What were you talking about anyway?" Bill asked.
"If I died today, who'd turn off my coffee pot?" Georg said looking him into the eyes.
Marie was sure that he wasn't really looking him in the eyes, but was simply staring right through him.
"Sounds boring, let's go." The thug said briskly.
"Just remember Geo! Life's too short to drink bad wine!" Bill said in a sing song voice.
"He has a point." Marie said standing up.
"Yeah well, don't take him too seriously, his motto changes every six months." Georg said, running a hand through his hair nervously and looking at Marie.
"It was nice meeting you." He said holding out a hand.
Marie took it as if to shake it but he kissed her knuckles lightly. "Thanks for paying attention."
"It was my pleasure." She said in her ever thick accent.
Bill was already tugging on his jacket as shouts came up the street in harsh German.
"Bye." He said as he started to walk away.
"Adieu mon cher." She said waving an airy hand as they turned around the corner.
She sighed and started off down the street, but as she lifted her hand to brush her windblown hair out of her face, she couldn't help but smile at the small slip of paper in her hand that bore a phone number.
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This is a story based off of Tim McGraw's "If I died today." From the Sothern Voice.
Its a fantastic album, I sugest it highly, This, is a one shot, I dont think more's coming...
Also, sorry if the French is off, I'm better at German.
and I have the feeling that Google translate is too...
review bitte!