Satan's Offer

Michael Abbott waited anxiously for him to arrive. His hand shook as he lifted the glass of water to his mouth spilling some onto the front of his shirt. “Crap,” he muttered under his breath. He was disgusted with himself. And unsure. Unsure of whether the shaking was due to the nervousness associated with the meeting or whether the shaking was part of the cocaine withdrawal he was going through. He decided the issue was related to both.

The man sat down across the table from Michael, not giving Michael the opportunity to stand and greet him. This man was simply standing before him as if arriving out of no where and then he sat down. He was a tall, thin man who appeared frail—too thin for his height. He was an older man, appearing to be on the other side of seventy. He had a frown on his face that looked permanent as if it were a mask—very deliberate. His frame was clothed head to toe in black except for the white dress shirt. A Fedora hat topped his head with a three piece suit, an overcoat, tie, Oxford shoes, gloves and a cane finished off the ensemble. He looked dressed for a funeral. Perhap that was where he had been or was going too.

“Are you the one who refers to himself as Satan?” Michael held his hand out. It was met with a cold, boney hand that was weak and barely responsive. Their hands connected, but he thought it was like shaking hands with a corspe.

“That is how you humans refer to me.” His deep voice was almost too loud for the quiet surroundings. This man, Satan, had allowed Michael to choose the setting for their meeting. Michael chose this quiet cafe that he was sure would have several people eating lunch. When Satan wants to meet with you, or someone who believes they are Satan, you don't want to be alone with him. The sound of polite chit-chat from the other tables barely rose above Satan's first words. Michael hoped that between the outside noise from the street and the conversation from the other tables in the cafe their meeting would go unnoticed.

“I am Michael Abbott. What would you prefer I call you?”

“Satan, Lucifer, the devil—I suppose any of those human words will do.” His frown straightened and for a brief moment the corners of his mouth rose almost forming a smile. “Why don't you just call me sir.”

“Alright, I will refer to you as sir.”

A waitress interrupted what was too early to be called an actual conversation. “What can I get for ya'll,” her eyes focused on the man dressed in black. There was barely any color in her face as she stared at Satan, unsure of what she was looking at.

“I'll have a cup of hot tea with a wedge of lemon,” Satan replied. A peculiar choice of drink on a hot Texas day in the middle of July. Michael shook his head signifying that he wanted nothing and for the waitress to leave.

“She is a pretty young thing, isn't she?”

“I guess so, I really didn't notice,” Michael replied.

“Oh you didn't notice. Not your type or not your persuasion?”

“I just didn't notice.”

“I do like you homos. There's plenty of room for your people in my world.” A smile did cross his face this time, but not a happy-to -meet-you-smile. It was more the type of smile you'd see on a serial killer after taking someone's life. Creepy.

“I am not gay. I am just focused on what we are doing here. You said you wanted to speak with me. What can I do for you?”

The waitress returned with Satan's tea. She placed the cup and saucer on the table, standing as far away as possible to complete the reasonably simply task.

“Thank you, Cynthia,” Satan said.

Michael looked to see in the waitress wore a name tag, which she did not. Her eyes met Michael's questioning without words, “How did he know my name?”

Before anyone said anything more, Satan answered the question that was never asked out loud. “I've been here before and you waited on me.” Cynthia knew that wasn't true and so did Michael.

Thank you, that will be all,” Satan dismissed Cynthia. From the speed that she departed, she couldn't get away fast enough.

“When were you in here before?”

“I wasn't. I lied. I'm the devil.” Satan replied amused with himself. “Oh really Michael, you've got to have more snap than that.”

Satan folded his arms disgusted with Michael's naivety. He stared at Michael, laughing internally – probably. Satan likes to play games. That is true. And Satan is a liar. That is true as well.

“Our dear waitress, Cynthia, likes to drink and drive. Usually she does well and makes it home, but sometimes she blacks out. A couple of weeks a go a man was walking home from one of those convenience stores. It was in the early morning hours and he was sturck by a vehicle and killed. The driver of the vehicle kept on going—didn't even stop. The next morning Cynthia noticed a dent in the front fender on the passengers side. She doesn't recall what happened; she had been drinking—a lot. She did hear about the poor man that was killed though. It did not take her simple minded self too long to put the pieces together. She is running scared now. I love it when you humans are afraid. Fear is my favorite.”

“So you believe she hit the man and killed him,” Michael asked knowing the answer.

“No, I do not believe that is what happened—I know that is what happened. And I know you believe that I am a liar so go check for yourself. Her car is right out there in the parking lot.”

“I believe I'll let that ride for now.” Michael had noticed upon arrival that a Toyota Camry had a dent in the front passenger fender.

“The Cynthia's of the world are just a drop in the bucket of what I see. Everybody has something they are hiding. Some secrets are just worse than others, but everyone is guilty of something.”

Michael was tired of the conversation and put out with this man claiming to be Satan. After a moment of dead silence and some deep breathing Michael wanted to know what the purpose of this meeting truly was about.

“What can I do for you?'

“It's not what you can do for me, Michael. It's what I can do for you.”

“You called me. You said you have a story you want to tell me.”

“Indeed I do.”

“Well then, what is it. I have a lot on my agenda today.”

“Oh Michael, we both know that is not true. You have been working very little since you were fired. Cocaine is such an addictive drug. It ruins lives you know. And television stations do not like for their reporters to use illegal drugs.”

Michael had been fired. Cocaine had taken over his life. In the beginning cocaine was just to get through the day, but it soon became a need. The money it took to support the habit was intense. First he lost the house and then Michael's wife took their daughter and left. The unending case of the sniffles was noticed on the job along with the mood swings that come with drug usage. The last straw was when he went off on the television crew.

And now he was talking with a man who believes he is Satan.

“Tell me what you have for me. I do have things to do.”

Satan stared straight ahead not looking at Michael, but through him.

“The obese woman behind you is a bookkeeper. She has embezzled over a hundred thousand dollars in the past three years. She worries quite a lot about getting caught. She won't have to worry much longer. It is all coming to an end very soon.”

Michael causally turned around seeing the large woman sitting next to the large window at the front of the small cafe. She was eating at a rapid pace as if someone were going to take the food away from her at any second.

Michael was not overwhelmed with interest. “So what. People take what doesn't belong to them all the time.”

“She will be interesting to you very shortly. She is going to be killed here in this cafe.”

“How do you know she is going to be killed here today?”

“I'm the devil and I know a lot.”

“I was under the impression that God is all knowing.”

“Yes, that is true, but I work for God.” Satan chuckled before continuing. “You humans always believe that God and I are on opposite sides. This is not true. I am an angel of God's just like the others. My purpose is to cause chaos. Murder, theft, vengence – all in the name of God.”

“You sound insane.”

“Quite to the contrary. I am humankinds evil side. The part of yourselves that you try to fight. Sometimes you succeed in fighting the demons; more often you fail. You understand that, don't you Michael?”

Michael could sense that Satan was speaking more directly to him as opposed to in general. “Cocaine is a strong force...”

“Oh no, not the cocaine issue. You know what I am talking about. You may have tried to repress what happened, but it is in there. You remember what you did. You and your friend, Jimmy.”

The feeling of shame took hold of Michael causing him to shiver. His reply fell flat, probably because he knew it was a lie. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Of course you do. You and Jimmy were drunk. More substance abuse. It was your first year of college. She was a beautiful girl. She is now in her early thirties, like you. She never got over it.”

“I don't know what you are getting at mister, but...”

“Please stop wasting my time with your hollow denials. I have other people to see. You and Jimmy drugged and raped that girl. She was never the same after the rape. She dropped out of college. In and out of one abusive relationship after another. There were several suicide attempts. Life has been almost unbearable since you raped her.”

“Stop saying I raped her. She agreed to the sex.”

“No Michael, you raped her. You know it and I know it. And you have gone on with your life as if nothing ever happened.”

“Go back to hell or whereever you drug up from.” Michael stood up to leave.

“Sit down. I'd hate to have to pay a visit to your daughter. I can be extremely unpleasant if I choose too.”

Michael sat back down.

“Now that is much better. Now let's finish the story, shall we. You didn't have much to do with Jimmy after the rape. You went on to finish college putting the whole ordeal out of your mind. Pretending it never happened. Do you know what happened to Jimmy? Of course you don't. You've been running away from that night ever since. Well, just so you know, he died of a drug overdose. Just last year. It was ruled an accident, a combination of alcohol and other drugs. I know differently. He killed himself intentionally. Do you know how I know? Because Jimmy resides with me now. Suicide—the unforgivable sin.” Satan delighted in being able to say that.

“What do you mean he resides with you?”

“I mean I own him. His soul is in me; a part of me. I am Satan. I am made up of many, many souls. Soon you will join me. Soon I will own your soul as well.”

Michael became faint. His spirit was in pain and he thought that life was draining from his body. He did not want to be part of the devil. He wanted to get out of the cafe and run away. Away, fast as possible.

“That is unless...”

“Unless what?” Michael was eager for Satan to continue with this new train of thought.

“You repent. Confess your sins.”

“I will. I will pray and ask God to forgive me.”

“It is not that simple. Asking God for forgiveness is not enough. You must face the girl, well, woman, you violated. You must acknowledge your sin and ask her forgiveness.”

The thought of seeing this girl, now a woman after all these years was, at the very least, unpleasant. Michael wouldn't know what to say or where she might be in the world. “I wouldn't know where to find her.”

“Well, you are in luck. I know where to find her.”

“What do I have to do?”

“Tell her who you are. Admit to what you did, she remembers the violation. Tell her you are sorry. That you are sorry for raping her and ruining her life.”

“I am sorry for what I did.”

Then you must tell her. That is what repentance is all about. Owning your sin. It is not enough just to pray to God. You must apologize to the one you wronged. Then God will forgive you even if she does not.”

Michael sat mulling over what was being said. He wasn't sure he could go through with seeing the woman he raped as a college girl. He still hadn't come to terms with whether the man before him was actually Satan. And even if he was Satan, how could he be believed. He was taught that Satan was a liar, a manipulator. “How do I know you speak the truth?”

“What part of all that I have told you has been a lie. Did you rape the girl? You know you did. Did you get fired from your job for the drug problem? You know you did. Time is running short and you need to decide if you are going to take the deal. Apologize to the girl you raped and repent your sins for a shot at heaven. Or do nothing and spend eternity with me. It is your choice.”

“Why are you offering me a way out of hell?”

Satan clenched his yellow teeth and disdain spit out of his mouth. “Because God told me to.”

“Where can I find the girl?”

“She is right behind you.”

Michael turned around and saw the same obese, embezzling woman from earlier. He squinted his eyes trying to recognize her as the girl he knew many years prior. Just for a moment he could tell that this was the girl, now a huge woman. She wore the past on her present frame in the form of fat. Yes, this was a person that had endured a great deal of suffering when she was raped and since. Life doesn't necessarily get better for many people; sometimes a miserable past stays with a person and even makes the future worse. Standing there unable to move, Michael felt enormous remorse.

“She is going to die today, in this cafe. You'd better hurry because once she is gone it will be too late and the deal is off.”

When Satan spoke this Michael recalled that he had said she was to die today and here. He wondered what role he would play in her death and had more difficulty making the walk over to her. He took a step towards her and then, before he could take another step she was dead.

A pickup truck had burst through the glass window directly behind where she had been sitting. The truck killed her and several other patrons on impact. There were screams coming from all directions and people running for cover. A man with a shotgun began shooting randomly around the small cafe killing several additional people. The man with the shotgun hollared out, “This is what you get for what you have done.” He was talking to no one specific and to everyone in the cafe. Michael lay on the floor pretending to be dead as the lone gunman walked by. After what seemed an eternity and after the death of almost everyone in the cafe, the gunman shoved the barrel of the shotgun in his mouth and took his own life.

While Michael lay on the floor pretending to be dead he could see Satan collecting souls among the deceased including the woman he was to apologize too. Michael had missed his opportunity to redeem himself and wondered what would become of him. Before he got up from the place he lay pretending to be dead Satan turned to him on his way out leaving these parting words.

“I'll be back for you.”