“This soup's too cold.” he said staring at his bowl of soup, “You'd tell me the soup wasn't cold and call me silly.” He stared at a piece of barley floating along the surface of the soup. It reminded him of some driftwood in the ocean. “You remember that? God that was so normal. I don't remember why the hell we watched it for so long. I wonder if was lonely floating out there.”
A knock sounded through the hall. “You there?” he asked. When the knock repeated he stood and answered the door. A Jehovah's Witness. Or a Mormon. He had no idea. “Hi.”
“Hello, I'd like to talk to you -”
“That's fine, come in.”
The guest smiled and followed him to the table. “That soup must be good.”
“God would tell you if your soup were too cold, wouldn't he?”
“Well... I don't know. He's never told me my soup was cold. Is your soup cold? I thought I saw some vapor coming off it.”
“No, I don't know what that is. My soups too cold and no one is agreeing with me.”
“Well, God is always on your side.” He began to pull out a holy book.
“No, don't. You said you'd like to talk to me, so I'm talking to you, but not about that.”
Some confusion spread across the man's face, “Well, I... okay.”
“Okay.” He waited.
“So, do you believe in God?”
“Not if he's not telling me my soup is cold. It's too cold.”
“I don't think that's how God works.”
“He's lazy is what he is.”
“Now that's not true, look at all -”
“It's too cold. He doesn't want to tell me, fine. But I don't want to talk about him if he's not even going to talk to me. This isn't high school.”
The man's eyes squinted a little and looked pleadingly at the man, “What are you talking about?”
“High school. You been?”
“Yes, but I don't see -”
“It's a shitty place to be. They never served soup at mine. I bet they wouldn't care if our soup was cold. Those lunch people were bastards.”
The man stared with his mouth slightly agape.
He looked from his soup to the man when silence persisted, “Something wrong?”
“I just... I think I would have rather had you turn me away at the door.”
“You came saying you wanted to talk to me, I didn't invite you.”
“I wanted to discuss God and salvation and all that."
“I can't see why.”
“Because our very lives depend on it.”
“I never paid much attention. My life depends on some warm soup and people who will let me know when my soup is cold.”
“I don't understand, your soup is obviously still warm. It'll be cold if you keep letting it sit there.”
“No wonder you want to talk about him.”
“Who? Oh, God?”
“Yeah. Neither of you want to tell me my soup is cold.”
“Well it's not. Why would I lie about something so stupid.”
“You wouldn't think it were stupid if your soup were cold.”
“I don't even eat soup. Not for a long time anyway.”
His eyes came to an understanding, “Because God wouldn't tell you when your soup was cold either, right?”
“No. I -”
“What a bastard he is. You seem all about him with that get-up and always bringing him up and he won't even tell you that.”
“He ... I don't... He has nothing to do with soup.”
“Apparently you don't either. Why don't you get a girlfriend or something?”
“What? I don't even know what that has to do with anything.”
“I think women have something to do with anything.”
“Well, yes, I guess. But not with... never mind. That's just not part of my life right now.”
“She probably wouldn't tell you your soup were cold either.”
“Fine. Where's your ... person, I guess.”
“I'd rather not discuss that.”
“You brought the topic up.”
“You did, actually.”
“No I,” he paused to reconsider, “I'm certain I did not do so.”
“It's none of my business what you think.”
“It's not? No.”
They both sat in silence. He continued to stare at his soup and occasionally look up at the man, then back to his soup. The man shifted uncomfortably in the wooden seat, occasionally pulling at the loose cushion beneath him, uncertain if it would be okay to just remove it. The man stared at the walls and felt like they were just as baffling as the person he was speaking to.
“So, do you know God?”
“I hear about him from a lot of people. I never met 'im, you?”
“Well, I don't mean literally.”
“So that's a no. You're an icon chaser?”
“I only worship God.”
“But you haven't met him. Just heard about him. That's like a celebrity. You're so interested in him because of all that stuff you hear, but he doesn't even care to tell you -”
“Your soup is cold. Okay, got it. You keep going on about it.”
“So you know then?”
“Know what? No, your soup isn't cold. I'd guess it is just warm now. God doesn't need to tell you that your soup is cold.”
“What does he need to do then?”
“I... Well. He's lord and creator of everything.”
“He needs to be lord and creator of everything?”
“Look, I don't know. I don't really care. I didn't pay much attention when we were being prepped for this stuff. I can't tell if you're doing this because you think it's funny or if something is off about you, but I'm going to go. I'd rather people just tell me to go away.”
“I don't know what joke you're talking about.”
“Hm?”
“You said something about being funny.”
“It doesn't matter. Have a good day sir.”
“I don't know how I can when my soup is so damn cold.”
The man frowned, turned on his heel and deftly exited the building without further word.
He watched the man walk out the door and shook his head. “I don't think we ever had a visit from one of them before. I'm not even sure that he knew what he was talking about. He was like you though, didn't think my soup was cold.” He looked back at his soup, his eyes dreamy and absent. “You always said, 'Your soups not cold silly, you just finished making it.' and then you fed me a spoonful to prove me wrong.” He passed a finger gently through the liquid.
He played with the bits of food between his fingers. “I could paint the room with this stuff. I guess there'd be a bunch of flies though.” He sighed and wiped his hand off. He looked back down at the soup, then at the door.
He remained seated at the table for one hour. “I guess I shouldn't have been mad. There's nothing funny about this anymore.” He stood and walked to the door and knocked on it, “Who's there” he asked then opened the door. It was night, but the sky had a cheddar cheese tint to it. He stared blankly up at it and coughed. “Well, I wasn't expecting you.” He closed the door and walked back to the table, looked at the soup and smiled like he didn't mean it. “Everyone says it isn't cold.” He turned the light out and laid down in the hall. “Maybe you'll come tell me I'm wrong tomorrow.” He hummed and closed his eyes. “But you won't. You'll never tell me that again.”
He slept and the dust on the floor kept him company. He'd warm it up again tomorrow. Just in case. |
Submission Name: soup
