Paradox

Disclaimer: All mine. No touchy.

Paradox; noun: a seemingly absurd or self contradicting statement or proposition that may, in fact, be true.

2. A person who combines contradicting features or qualities

Chapter 1

“That’s it!” Alaiah exclaimed as she strutted down the street with her best friend Claire. “No more men. I have absolutely no desire to ever marry or even see another man again.”

Claire quickly took Alaiah’s hand. “Oh, you poor girl! Did Philip hurt you so much that you come to such a conclusion?”

Alaiah rolled her eyes. Claire was a love sick girl - not in love with any one particular, just the idea of love itself.

“It’s not like I need a guy, anyway. I’m a reporter of New York - to one of the best companies in Manhattan. I make good money, work a lot - why do I need a guy?”

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah - just tell me - did you give back the engagement ring?”

“Of course. Why would I want it for?”

“To embarrass him later, or pawn it - something of that sort. I find it quite fun.”

Alaiah shook her head. “And you really wonder why you’re not married yet?”

Claire giggled. “I never said anything about marriage!”

“Well, now I’m not either. No more men - I’m serious about this. No more. I’ll die a happy, old maid.”

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Alaiah Grace Thiar sat on the bus, scribbling away in her notebook that she always kept by her side. It had been over six months since her fiancé Phillip had been gone from her life, and she had stuck by her word, and believed in it even more. She was happy by herself. She had an apartment that she had rented for many years. A wonderful job that she worked hard to get. Good friends, good social life. A good life, indeed.

Taking out her pocket sized mirror from her small purse, she checked her image. Her curly red hair was tied up in a messy bun, and her sharp blue eyes had red streaks mingling with the white, along with dark circles around them. It had been a long night in town, going everywhere she had to so she could finish her story by her deadline - today.

“Excuse me, may I sit by you?” A male voice suddenly sounded beside her.

Alaiah looked up at him in momentary confusion, just coming out from her daydream of how things would be when she reached the office.

“Uh...I...sure,” she mumbled, picking up her bookbag and placing it on her lap.

The man had his own messanger bag, which he pulled out a sketch pad from and a drawing pencil. She pretended she wasnt looking, that she was still jotting down notes, yet she couldn’t resist looking over at what he was sketching out. As it became more and more detailed, she saw, to her surprise, that it was a drawing of her. To her embarrassment, she saw that the man had drawn her eyes looking over at his sketchbook.

She offered him a sheepish smile, greeting his awaiting eyes. “That’s really beautiful. Are you an artist?”

“A mere hobby, is all. You’re very beautiful, I couldn’t resist. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all," she assured.

“Would you mind telling me your name?” When she hesitated, he pointed to his book, “for the picture.”

“Alaiah Grace.”

He held out his hand. “My name is Atticus Amerus.”

She looked at him in surprise as she took his hand. “That’s quite an unusual name, Mr. Amerus.”

“Atticus, if you will. Yes, I suppose it is. Named after the character from ‘To kill a Mockingbird.’ Ever read it?”

“Just a few pages, I’m afraid.”

“A great book, I assure you,” he murmered, staring down at the pad in his lap.

As Atticus Amerus went back to his picture, making even more details and beautiful designs, she studied him. He had long, thick hair that curled at the ends. It was an odd color, a mixture of gold blonde, light brown and an almost silver blonde color - not greying, but almost a platinum. His eyes were hazel, a mixture of deep emerald green and a soft brown. And he was tall, very tall. At least six foot five, perhaps a little more. Sitting next to him made her frame of five foot seven look quite short, also making her feel awkwardly self conscious .

To her delight, the more she looked, the more she came to the conclusion that this man looked more like from an old fairy tale. Men this beautiful and charming simply didn’t exist anymore, let alone in New York.

“Where are you from,” she blurted.

Though his gaze never left his paper, he grinned. “Why do you ask?”

“Because it’s obvious you’re not from around here.”

“Neither are you.”

“No, I’m not. But I’ve been here for enough years to know an outsider when I see one.”

Now Atticus laughed. “What gave it away? Many artists live in New York.”

“They do. But not many people are so nice and comforting.”

“Really? Well, as it turns out, I’m from North Carolina. You?”

“Maine. Bar Harbor, really. Right by the sea.”

“What made you leave,” he asked in a soft, genuinely interested voice.

Alaiah shrugged. “I don’t know all of it, really. I guess I just...grew to big for Maine. I wanted to get out in the world, get a great career. New York was at the top of my list, so I went for it. I got a good job, so I just stayed here. And you?”

“I wanted out of the little towns. To head up north, to the bigger cities.”

“Well, you sure found it!”

“Yeah, but I also found a lot of other things. Bad things. There’s so much crime and injustice here. Everywhere you turn, some poor elderly woman is being robbed, a young girl being raped, a poor, lost boy getting beat from all the gangs here. As an artist, it’s often hard to see the beauty through all the pain and turmoil.”

Alaiah just looked at him, stunned for a moment. “Wow. I think I’ve been too busy for so long...things like that never seem to come up in my mind. I kinda ignore it and hope to heaven that it doesn’t happen to me.”

“That’s exactly what too many people think. They ignore all the terrible things going on around them, then when they are attacked, they want to cry injustice, when they were part of the injustice of silence themselves. These New Yorkers, yes, even the ones that just live here as you do, are all so messed up in their logic. And then you wonder why things are so chaotic here!”

Alaiah wasn’t sure how to take this, so she didn’t address the matter fully head on. “You’re really passionate about your beliefs, Atticus.”

“Forgive me, too often I come on too strongly to people, even mere strangers," he apologized, his eyes showing his genuine embarrassment. "Yet I think of it as planting seeds in people’s minds; give them something real to think about, outside of petty work. It’s the only way that this state will get fixed. You can’t expect the mayors and governors to do it for you - after all, they’re just people like us, with our same beliefs - well, your same beliefs. Even to the point where they’re so involved with their jobs and looking good, that they forget their main goal - to help the people in the long run, no matter what that does to their reputation.”

“Perhaps this city needs someone like you to be our governor. Perhaps we need a guy with your beliefs," Alaiah pointed out kindly.

Atticus shook his head. “Not me. I’m busy doing the street work - everything I can from the low places. If I leave to go to higher, who will take my place? Besides, I want no glory or attention from what I do. You need a showoff to handle that.”

“So what you’re saying is that we just idle by blindly, not wanting to step up to the plate, yet you, who believes so strongly in all of this, wants to say that same thing when it’s offered?”

“And whom are you, Alaiah Grace? Are you in to politics? Are you offering me the job? Even willing to stand behind me? No, you are a lowly reporter, who writes about how terrible the things are but could care less about how to fix them," he said, looking at her notebook that had the rough draft of her latest work on it. "No, no one has offered me anything but life on the streets and more grief.”

The bus slowed down to an eventual stop. It was here that Atticus Amerus stood up.

“This is my stop. Perhaps we’ll meet again some time and talk more on such lovely subjects. For now, I hope my enthusiasm has not overwhelmed your generous ears,” he said, mostly with heart and a hint of sarcasm. But before she could reply, he quickly walked down the aisle and towards the exit. And once again, Alaiah was alone.

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A/N: It gets alot better, just stick with it :)