“It was such a long time ago, I hardly remember it, when I wasn’t what I now am.” A reluctant smile crossed Syph’s face. The cloud scooted over to allow half the sun to shine.
Bonnie bit into her burger, after checking for roaches, and discovered it wasn’t absolutely terrible. It wasn’t good, but she didn’t want to spit it out. She was grasping for any possible solution to her goddess problem. At the very least, it eased her suffering to get Syph to talk about it. That had to mean something.
“You dragged me into this,” said Bonnie. “You owe me.”
“I don’t see how it’s relevant.”
Bonnie smiled mirthlessly. “Indulge me.”
Syph thought about this a moment, and it must have brightened her day because the cloud vanished from the sky in a puff.
“It’s funny. No one has ever asked me about this before. No one ever cared.”
Bonnie didn’t care either. Not about the goddess anyway. But if it made Syph feel better about herself and made Bonnie’s life better in the process, she was perfectly willing to play along. She reached across the table and patted Syph’s hand. It was cold, but not as cold as before.
“You wouldn’t know it to look at me,” said Syph, “but I was once the goddess of love. I brought only joy and hope to all around me, made the world a more beautiful place. Everything I touched was brightened by my presence, and my favor was coveted by king and peasant alike.
“But my influence didn’t end with mortals. I was courted by all the best gods. The most powerful of deities sought my company. There wasn’t a god I couldn’t seduce with merely a demure smile and a coy glance.”
Bonnie studied the colorless, icy goddess sitting across from her. It was hard to imagine.
“And I dated them all,” said Syph. “From the most insignificant mortal to the most powerful of the divine. I gleefully spread my joy across the heavens and Earth without care, and should have done so until the end of time.”
“So what happened?”
Syph sighed. The cloud came back, bigger and blacker than ever.
“I fell in love.”
Bonnie waited for further explanation, but Syph just sat there. She bit her lower lip as a single bloodred tear ran down her cheek.
“I don’t understand,” said Bonnie. “Shouldn’t that have been a good thing?”
Syph chortled. Or tried to. But all that came out of her tight throat was a strangled grunt.
“Would it serve a goddess of death to die herself? Or a goddess of war to see the world of mortals consumed in nuclear holocaust? The needs and welfare of gods doesn’t rely solely on a singular motivation.”
“Hadn’t thought of it like that,” admitted Bonnie.
“Few mortals do. You think it’s easy to be a god. But we are as fallible and foolish as mortals. Perhaps even more so, since our immortality often leads to boredom, and boredom leads to recklessness. And it’s easy to be reckless when immortality usually keeps us from having to deal with the consequences of our actions.” She laughed again, bitterly. The cloud rumbled, growing to cover half the sky.
“At first, it was wonderful. I, the goddess of love, had discovered love. Genuine love. My powers increased, and for a while, I thought I might even be able to usher in a new golden age in Heaven and Earth.”
“What happened?”
Syph lowered her head and mumbled into her shoulder.
“What?” asked Bonnie.
Syph pulled her hand away and studied her fingernails. “He dumped me.”
A rolling storm materialized over the Burger Town. People ran for cover as tiny heart-shaped pieces of hail rained down. Each piece shattered exactly in half upon impact.
“And?” asked Bonnie.
Syph looked Bonnie in the eye. “And what?”
“And what else? Something else must have happened to change you.”
“You still don’t understand, do you? I was dumped.”
“Hold it,” said Bonnie. “Don’t you gods and goddesses leap out of each other’s lives all the time? Don’t you have brief infatuations, followed by hollow relationships? You’re always cheating on each other, right?”
“Not always.”
“Uh-huh,” said Bonnie skeptically.
“Okay, so usually that is true. Although there are true and long-lasting marriages among the gods. Though not many, I’ll admit. Immortality and boredom are rarely healthy for a long-term relationship.”
“What’s the big deal then?” said Bonnie. “You got dumped. Business as usual among immortals, isn’t it?”
“No. Not business as usual. The right thing to do would have been to marry me. Even if he didn’t love me, he should’ve wanted to possess me only because I was desired by others. Or he could’ve waited until enough time passed that we would’ve naturally drifted apart. But he dumped me. Me. The goddess of love, rejected by her first true love. I was in my heyday, and he was only a minor god. But I chose him, despite the dozens of proposals from much more influential and desirable deities. Zeus himself was among my suitors.”
“You almost married Zeus?”
“Married? No, not married. Hera wouldn’t have been very happy about that. But he did offer to buy me a condo on Mount Olympus along with a generous allowance.”
Bonnie cracked a smile. “You’re telling me you were almost a kept goddess?”
“It was a very generous offer. I didn’t consider it. Not seriously. But it was nice to be asked.”
The storm dissolved. The sun beamed. As much as Bonnie hated to ruin the goddess’s mood and the weather, she still needed answers.
“Why don’t you tell me about this guy?”
She braced herself for the worst, but it wasn’t as bad as she expected. That small cloud covered the sun, and her remaining fries were suddenly covered in a fuzzy orange fungus.
“Why do you want to know?” asked Syph.
“Maybe because it will make you feel better to talk about it.” And when you feel better, Bonnie added to herself, I feel better.
She spent the remainder of her lunch hour listening to Syph reminisce about her lost love. When the memories were good, the sky was clear and the birds sang. When they were bad, those same birds would fall silent and car accidents would happen in the nearby intersection. Nobody was seriously hurt, though at one point a blind man had his foot run over. Bonnie felt bad about that, but she encouraged Syph to continue.
10
The not-party went until three in the morning, but Teri and Phil went to bed around midnight. They didn’t get much sleep, but she awoke refreshed to the smell of frying bacon.
Phil was in the shower.
“Honey, who’s cooking?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Lucky?”
She doubted that. He didn’t seem the type.
Phil was half-right. It wasn’t their new god but one of his friends. The giant rainbow serpent puttered around their kitchen.
“Hi, Teri. I hope you don’t mind. I borrowed a couple of bucks out of your wallet and found a twenty-four-hour market. Thought I’d whip up some of my special sun god omelets. Just my way of saying thanks for letting me crash on your couch last night.”
“Yeah,” she said. “No problem.”
“It’ll just be a minute,” Quick said. “I hope you like’em spicy. I couldn’t find any reasonably priced human flesh, so I had to substitute ham.”
“Uh-huh,” said Teri as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“That was a joke,” said Quick. “I realize it’s not always easy to tell with gods.”
“No, that’s fine. It was funny.” She forced a smile and took a sip.
“Loosen up, Teri. I promise I’m not going to swallow you whole. I’m not that kind of god anymore. Plus, you’re Lucky’s follower, and I wouldn’t do that to a friend.”
He smiled, and it was ingratiating. Surprising, considering sharp fangs filled his maw.
Phil, toweling dry his hair, appeared at her side. “Shower is ready.
What smells so good?”
“Eggs à la sun god,” she said, “minus the human flesh.”
Quick chuckled.
Teri excused herself, but she heard the shower running. The door to Lucky’s room was open a crack. He must have been an early riser. She hadn’t seen him as that type. Raccoons were nocturnal. Then again, Quick was a giant serpent monster, and he didn’t eat people. Or so he claimed.
Teri went back to the dining room. Quick urged her and Phil to have a seat as he served them breakfast.
“What’s the verdict?” asked Quick.
“A little spicy,” said Phil, “but thank you. They’re good.”
“De nada. I’ll get some milk.” Quick slithered into the kitchen.
“Why is he still here?” asked Teri.
Phil shrugged. “Lucky said he’s in a rough spot right now.”
“When I agreed to this,” she said, “I agreed to one god. One.” She held up her index finger to illustrate the point.
“He’s not really our god,” replied Phil. “It’s not like we owe him any tribute. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“The big deal is that there’s a giant snake serving us breakfast.”
“A good breakfast,” said Phil.
She glared. “Doesn’t he have a human form, at least?”
“Lucky said he doesn’t like to wear it anymore.”
Before she could ask why, Quick slipped out of the kitchen and laid two tall glasses of milk before them.
Teri excused herself again. The shower wasn’t running, so she knocked on the bathroom door. “I hate to be a pest, but I really need to get ready for work.” She added a hastily mumbled, “M’lord.”
Janet opened the bathroom door. “No problem, hon. Though you can ease up on the titles. It’s your bathroom after all.”
By the time Teri took her shower, Janet had already left. Work was hectic, so they had to put off any confrontation until lunch. Teri wasn’t sure if Janet would be waiting at their usual deli table, but she was there, looking innocent.
“Hi, hon.”
Teri slammed her tray onto the table. “You had sexual intercourse with my god.”
“Yeah?” said Janet. “So?”
“Sex. With my god.”
“Is that a problem?”
Teri’s jaw dropped.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” said Janet.
Teri tried to verbalize it, but she realized she didn’t know what the problem was.
“It just seems like a bad idea,” she finally said.
“Why?”
“Because he’s my god. It could make things complicated.”
Janet laughed. “Oh, hon, you really are new to this, aren’t you? It’s not complicated. That’s one of the things I love about god sex. It’s no strings attached.”
“Wait a second.” Teri lowered her voice. “You’ve done this before.”
“Sure. All the time.”
“All the time?”
“Well, not all the time.” Janet counted off on her fingers. “Six times.”
Teri leaned forward. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
“I’m careful. I use protection. I don’t care if Xochipilli himself appeared to me, all oiled up and ready for a night of sensual delights, no glove, no love. That’s my policy.
“If it’ll make you feel better, I promise not to see him again,” said Janet.
“Thanks.”
Teri struggled to wrap her mind around this.
“What if he wants to see you again?”
“You don’t have to worry, hon,” said Janet. “Gods mastered the art of casual sex thousands of years ago. Lucky was a one-night thing. He said he’d call, but they never do.”
Her cell phone rang. Janet excused herself to take the call. She returned two minutes later and had a seat.
“Well… this is awkward.”
“What?” asked Teri. “What is it?”
Janet sucked on her soda with a guilty look.
“Oh no,” said Teri. “That was him. It was him, wasn’t it?”
Janet averted her eyes and nodded.
“You just said they never call. You just said that. They never call!”
“They don’t.”
Teri glared.
“They don’t. Not normally. Not ever before.” Janet smiled. “I’m just as surprised as you are.”
“Whatever. It’s not important,” said Teri. “What did you tell him? I hope you came up with a good excuse.”
Janet chewed her lip.
“You told him you couldn’t see him again, right?” asked Teri. “Right?”
“About that…”
“You agreed to go out with him again?”
Janet nodded. Once. She slurped her empty soda.
“I don’t believe you. You promised you wouldn’t see him anymore. You promised.”
“And I meant it,” said Janet, “but I thought about it. Wouldn’t it be better for me to go out with him one or two times more and let him get bored with me rather than risk insulting him? Look what happened to you yesterday. I couldn’t be responsible for another curse of lousy luck again, could I?”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with me,” said Teri. “If you’d been thinking about me you wouldn’t have slept with Lucky in the first place.”
“Hey, now. Let’s not start saying things we could end up regretting. In fact—and I wasn’t going to tell you this—I slept with Lucky to put him in a better mood after you insulted him. You really should be thanking me. I don’t think some gratitude is uncalled-for.”
Teri and Janet locked stares.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” said Teri.
“Okay, so it’s bullshit. You got me, hon. But the way I see it we have two choices now. I can either call Lucky back and tell him that I have to wash my hair and hope that there’s no wrath, either intended or incidental, raining down on our heads. Or I can go out with him for another date or two and let him get bored.” She pulled out her cell. “He’s your god. I’ll go with whatever you decide.”
Teri silently mulled it over as they finished their lunch and rode the elevator back to work.
“All right, you can go out with him again. I guess.”
“Great. You won’t regret it. I’ll show him a good time, put him in a fantastic mood, and before you know it, you’ll be covered in fortune and prosperity.”
“Just make sure it’s not too good a time,” said Teri. “We want him to get bored, remember?”
“So we’re cool then?”
“Yes, we’re cool.”
The door opened, and they prepared to part ways to their different departments.
“When you were sleeping with my god,” asked Teri, “did he keep the raccoon head the whole time?”
Janet grinned slyly.
“You know what?” Teri waved her hands to silence Janet. “Forget I asked.”
* * *
The gods lounged on the couch, watching telenovelas.
“I’m confused,” said Lucky. “Is the dude with the eye patch a bad guy or not?”
“He’s a cop,” replied Quick.
“And that hot hostage in the low-cut dress is his wife?”
“Right, but he’s undercover, so he can’t let the other bank robbers figure that out.” Quick scratched his head. “Or maybe he has amnesia and doesn’t remember either. I’m not sure.”
“Amnesia. Where do they come up with this stuff?”
He held up his soda can, and Quick tapped it with his glass of tomato juice.
“Do you think I made a mistake with Janet?” asked Lucky. “I probably should’ve waited a couple of days before calling.”
“Three days,” said Quick. “Calling the next day can be construed as a bit needy. Two days after is okay. But three days means you’re interested but not desperate.”
Lucky chugged his soda.
“Three days, huh?”
“Just what I’ve heard through the grapevine
. Last time I went on a date it was still acceptable to send out warriors to abduct a virgin.”
“Simpler times,” said Lucky.
They clanked their glasses together again.
“You think I came across as needy then?” asked Lucky.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Crap.”
“I like the new followers, by the way,” said Quick. “Good folks. Though I don’t think Teri likes either of us very much.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Lucky. “She’s won’t be the first reluctant mortal I’ve had to win over.”
“So are you going to tell them?”
“Tell them what?”
Quick ruffled his feathers. “They really should know.”
“I don’t think it’s important. I’m sure it’s all water under the bridge by now.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“I have hundreds of followers. There’s nothing very special about these two.”
“Except you’re living here. To an outside observer with a grudge, that might make them seem important.”
“Well, of course, they’re special,” said Lucky. “All my followers are special. But I lived with Tom for years and nothing happened. And Rebecca before that. And Gary before that. It’s been just over a hundred years since the last… incident.”
“You’ve been hanging around with mortals too long, Lucky. A hundred years is a blink of an eye. But the world of mortals changes faster than ever. It’s not so easy for a god to lay low anymore. How did Teri and Phil find you?”
“Internet,” said Lucky.
“The information age,” said Quick. “If he wants to find you, all he has to do is click a few buttons.”
“He doesn’t operate that way. I doubt he even knows what a computer is. He never could adapt. Stupid bastard got left behind in the Middle Ages. Did I ever tell you that during our last civil conversation, he predicted the longbow was just a fad.”
They chuckled.
“I’m not saying he’s the smartest god,” said Quick, “but you have to admit he’s persistent. And he knows how to hold a grudge. And he may not have adapted to the new world, but that just means he’s more dangerous.”
“No, it just means that he’s faded into obscurity. Most of his power disappeared with the last of the Philistines.”
A Lee Martinez Page 8