Monica didn’t want to live in a world where people put butter in their coffee. It made her want to kill herself. She was at Whole Foods where a woman in a down jacket had inserted herself between Monica and the sushi. The woman had walked directly in front of her, then stood there like Monica was a ghost or a poor person. The woman picked up a container of sushi, set it down, picked up another, and so on. Monica felt her soul leaving her body. It traveled up into the organic, free-range rafters, then looked down at Monica, and laughed and laughed.
Monica imagined attacking the woman but didn’t do it.
She gave up on her soul/sushi and wandered over to the hot food bar. As usual, the macaroni and cheese was untouched. She stuck her finger in it. It was warm and inviting, like a hot tub. Now that she didn’t have a soul, nothing mattered anymore. She waited for someone to come and arrest her. But no one even noticed. She pulled out her finger and licked it, wondering if she looked sexy. Maybe this would be how she’d meet her future husband. Wouldn’t that be funny/cute? She walked up to the checkout.
“I’m going to drink this then I’m going to kill myself,” she said as she placed the butter coffee on the counter.
“Ha,” the guy said. “Well don’t do that.”
“I’m kidding of course,” she said.
“$7.99,” he said.
“I’m not upset about it because I can afford it,” said Monica. She took the butter coffee and walked outside. The air was muggy and terrible, like a hot tub. She walked to the bus stop. A man with a long beard was sitting on the bench, reading a book.
“Are you Jesus?” she asked. She could say anything now. It didn’t matter.
“Why? You looking for forgiveness?” the man said. He put down his book and smiled. His beard looked like an old rug.
“I’ve done some terrible things,” she said.
“Who hasn’t?”
“So you’re not Jesus then?” she said. She opened the butter coffee and stared into it. “Jesus wouldn’t say that.”
“It’s a scam,” the man said, gesturing to the coffee. “How much you pay for that?”
“$4.99.”
“See, way too much.”
“It makes me feel alive,” she said. “It’s the only thing that makes me happy. I need it. The doctor told me to drink it.” She took a drink. It tasted awful, like a farm.
“Whatever makes you happy, kid.”
“Well the truth is nothing makes me happy anymore,” she said. She was talking fast now. “The truth is I’m incredibly depressed. In fact, I was planning on killing myself tonight, but then I heard about this coffee on a podcast, and they say it gives you energy, so now I’m thinking I won’t do it. I’m going to write an op-ed about how Whole Foods saved my life.”
Now the man was staring at her. “You really don’t want to do that, kid. Life is…” But he didn’t finish his sentence.
“I said I wasn’t going to do it now,” she said. People never really listened. Just like they always looked at you without seeing and stood in front of you like you didn’t exist and said lies, big and small. It was good to no longer be one of them. To be a different sort of creature, like a person, but without the essential person-ness. For the first time in her life, Monica felt free.
The man said, “I’m just saying.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” said Monica. “I don’t have a soul anymore. I could kill you and feel absolutely nothing.”
“Is that so?”
“Do you think I might kill you?” she said. “Do you feel afraid of me?”
“A little bit,” he said. “Yeah.”
“Ah!” she said and pretended to lunge at him. But he didn’t even flinch.
He said, “So if you don’t have a soul where is it now? Heaven?”
Monica considered this. “Near the sushi,” she said. “In Whole Foods.”
The bus pulled up and they got on. The man sat up front near the bus driver where it was safe, just in case. Monica sat in the back and drank her butter coffee. It still tasted horrible. She looked out the window and waited for the energy to fill her body. She imagined it would feel like life. Outside, trees lined the street. They stood tall and proud. Trees had no awareness that people like Monica wanted them dead, would even kill them for their own needs. Unlike people, trees knew who they were. Monica thought how in her next life she would be a tree. A creature that needed only what was essential to thrive: sun, water, soil, and air. But Monica wasn’t a tree. She was a human. Even a soulless human was still a human, right? She took another sip of her coffee and waited to see what she’d feel next.
Bethany Marcel is an alumna of the 2020 Tin House Workshop and a Contributing Editor at Barren Magazine. Her work has been published in Literary Hub, Creative Nonfiction, Longleaf Review, Post Road, and elsewhere. She's been awarded a Career Opportunity Grant from the Oregon Arts Commission and her work has been supported by residencies from Vermont Studio Center and Spruce Art. You can find her online and on Twitter @bethmarcel or Instagram @bethramarcel.
Photo by That Other Paper on Foter.com