by A. R. Braun
“He only reveals himself when he feels like it,” Don said, “and only to those who’ve worshiped him.”
Pishuni pushed Don into one of the grey chairs. “You worthless palefaced traitor!” The deity’s booming voice was as eons of thunder. Don put his hands over his ears.
Fay screamed when scorpions appeared on the floor and black crows flew through the space. She jumped onto a chair and crouched.
The god stomped toward Don till he stood looking down on him. “You think I’m gonna kill you?” Pishuni shook his head and crossed his arms. “I can’t, not till I find a new servant. It shouldn’t take long though. But first I’m gonna have some fun.”
Pishuni turned to Fay — who looked at Don with walleyes — and the deity moved his fingers as if weaving a spell. A crystal spiderweb formed in his hands and caught the light in glittering beams, chasing the shadows away. The spiderweb vanished as he turned back to Don, Pishuni dropping his massively-muscular arms and placing them on the arms of the chair.
“Fay’s a lesbian now. Not that it’s a punishment to her, but to ensure your agony. This way, she can never change her mind and get back together with you, even if you win the lottery. She’ll divorce you and leave you all alone. You’ll be a failure for the rest of your life. You’ll never get a third wife, and you’ll never succeed at a job — bouncing around after a year or two, a shame to your family and to everyone around you. You’ll be ridiculed, despised and rejected until you end up like Ben.
“If you live that long.”
Pishuni put his hands on his hips, threw his head back and cackled. Outside, a thunderstorm rose up, as if in answer to his laughter. He pierced Don with those eyes… the orbs holding more than malice, more than hate and apathy could ever achieve, sanguine and torturous, something Don’s mind could barely stand.
“I’m off to find a new servant.” Pishuni bent his head to look him in the face, and Don screamed, covering his eyes from the brilliance, because his eyebrows had started to singe off. “ENJOY.”
With that Pishuni disappeared, along with the scorpions and the birds.
Fay walked over and stood looking down on him, her arms crossed. “Pishuni was just here, I gather?”
Don nodded. “Let’s report the suicide.”
***
Juanita’s eyes bulged after Don told her Ben had killed himself. He mentioned he’d pay for the fire damage, then called the police. Fifteen minutes later, he sat in the lobby, talking to a lanky detective named Jones, or at least the young man looked lanky in that long coat. His short hair stood up in spikes, but not like a punk rocker’s — more like he’d used hair gel to get that modern hard-boiled detective look.
Bearing panicky eyes, Fay sat beside Don.
Detective Jones brought out a pad and a pen. “So, you came here with a teenage boy named Ben, and you three were the only survivors of the nuclear attack on Albuquerque?”
Don nodded. “His car was in the ditch and I offered him a ride.”
Jones became squinty-eyed. “Nothing sexual going on? No two-guy threesome shit?”
“No! God, no. I’m straight, and he’s a minor. We were gonna drop him off at his grandmother’s place here in town when she got back from vacation. He went into the bathroom and didn’t come out. When we called for a while and got no answer, I walked into his bathroom and found him… like that.”
Jones nodded, making a few notes. “The kid just couldn’t take that his family was dead, huh?”
“I guess not.”
Jones slapped his notepad on his knees and fixed Don, then Fay with a stare. “Either of you want to tell me why we found ashes in the bedroom? Did you have trouble cleaning up after your meth lab or something?”
Fay put her face in her hands and sighed.
“This is gonna sound crazy,” Don said.
Jones rolled his eyes. “Here it comes.”
“My wife had a hard time putting her last boyfriend behind her. He’s rich and bought her expensive gifts, including souvenirs. She finally found the strength to burn them, or at least the ones she brought with her before her house in Rio Rancho was destroyed. Unfortunately, I have to pay for the damages.”
Jones rubbed his face. “That sounds crazy, all right. One would think she’d have gotten rid of that stuff, or at least sold it when she married you. And why would she take a few choice souvenirs with her? It doesn’t add up.” He pinned Don with his eyes. “Want to tell me what really happened? Some bizarre devil-worship shit that made you hang the kid?”
Fay groaned.
“I’m telling you the truth,” Don said.
“He is, I swear,” Fay whined.
“Why would we hang him?” Don asked. “We were trying to help him.”
“There’s no suicide note,” Jones answered.
Oh, shit.
“But,” Jones continued, “we’ll get fingerprints, and if we don’t find yours on the noose or the wooden rafters, you’re clear.”
Don nodded. “There won’t be any.”
Jones rose. “Don’t take any trips, all right?”
Don also got up. “You aren’t charging us with anything?”
“Not unless we get your prints. Just don’t leave town. Don’t check out of here, for that matter. At least not till I say it’s all right.”
“No problem.” Don stuck out his hand. “Thanks, detective.”
Jones stared at the hand for a while, then took it, shaking firmly. “I guess I should thank you for reporting this.” He looked them over. “Recently married, are ya?”
“Newlyweds.”
Jones cocked his head. “Then why would you even consider bringing a high-school boy along with you?”
“We didn’t want him to be alone after what happened to his family in Albuquerque. Guess we might as well have though.”
“Guess so.” Jones turned to leave, shaking his head and calling to a uniform. He said something about how they had even more loonies in town now, and there goes the neighborhood.
Don caressed Fay’s hair, pulling it out of her eyes. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
She slapped his hand away and reared her head back. “Don’t touch me, you male pig!”
CHAPTER 25
Worried about a premature separation, Don sat with Fay at the Santa Fe Bar & Grill across the street from the Old Santa Fe Inn. He tried to ignore the minimal chatter and clatter of patrons and staff, but he guessed that would pick up later. Fay’s eyes darted around the room, seeming to look at everyone but him. She was working on her second margarita.
Don cleared his throat as he waited for his meal. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exultant about throwing off the yoke of that evil god.”
Fay continued to survey the crowd as she took another swig.
Don sipped his glass of white wine, the flavor sweet, the alcohol intoxicating. “So, this is where you want a divorce, right?”
Her eyes glazed over, probably seeing everything, but nothing registering.
“Fay,” Don asked, “are you all right?”
Her eyes pinned him. “What are you talking about?”
“I asked if you wanted a divorce. Pishuni said he’d take your desire for me away.”
Fay’s eyes seemed to burn a hole in him, then she rolled them.
***
Why is this pig bugging me about divorce?
Fay had harbored lesbian desires ever since Don rejected Pishuni in the hotel room, her hormone surge burning white-hot in her loins. Her gaze travelled to the left of the restaurant, where a couple of luscious young women sat at the bar. They wore tight-fitting shorts, showing off copious amounts of their bare thighs.
“I just, um, don’t have anybody else,” she answered. “My mom and uncle, they — ”
“Fay, look at me.”
She hesitantly pulled her eyes back to him. “What?”
“Pishuni gave you different desires and you know it. You know his tricks. Fight it.”
Fay sighed. “I think
it’s insensitive to be talking about our marriage right now. That poor kid is dead, along with my family. Will you let me drink my margarita in peace?” Her voice was not high-pitched as usual. Somehow, it had taken on a lower tone.
The low lights in the restaurant made the few other customers’ faces difficult to tell apart as they devoured their meals. Only five people sat at the bar. Fay thought it strange that the restaurant wasn’t in a different room than the pub like in most watering holes.
The voluptuous redheaded waitress brought Don’s food. He thanked her, refusing to stare, a sugary-sweet gesture. Fay stared though, the woman’s heaving bosom and well-rounded curves making her dizzy. She ordered a third margarita.
“Keep ‘em comin,” Fay told her.
The waitress nodded and strutted away. Fay watched her apple butt go.
Don said, “Well, no need to say grace. I’d have to say it to Pishuni, since he’s God.”
Fay turned to him, about five seconds from throwing her drink all over him. “Could you have some respect for the Lord Jesus Christ, please?”
Don sighed. “Fine.” He steepled his hands. “Thank you, Lord, for this food. Bless it to my body, amen.” He chuckled. “You likey?”
She shook her head. “Wonderful of you to give The Lord seconds of thanks. That’s ten kinds of disrespectful.”
“I apologize.” Don dug in. Since he’d not had supper, his stomach had been growling the whole time they’d been here. Don took a swig of wine and then dove back into the food like a pig at the trough. Again, he washed his slop down with the wine. “God, this is the best meal I’ve ever had. Have you ever noticed how bar food is rich, not watered-down?”
She refused to answer the stupid question. Of course bar food was rich!
“It’s perfect.” He resumed the love affair with his meal.
Fay kept staring toward the bar. The waitress brought her third drink. Fay clutched it and thanked her. She started in on the salty-sweet liquor, never taking her eyes from the ladies.
“Fay,” Don said.
She ignored him.
“Fay!”
She fixed her gaze on him. “What?”
“I know you’ve been through some horrible shit, but this is our honeymoon, at least the first chance we’ve had at one. Could you at least pay attention to me?”
“Just let me get drunk.” Fay guzzled the margarita in three seconds. She sniffed at the glass, then raised her arm to get the waitress’s attention. When she reached the table, Fay told her to bring her a fourth one.
Good help’s hard to find.
Don forked her the evil eye.
Fay said, “It’s just like you to torment me about our relationship while I’m trying to deal with all this shit.”
He stared at her, the coward.
“Whatever, don’t answer me. Thanks to your god, I’ve just lost my mom and my favorite uncle, plus that poor boy hung himself on our God-blessed honeymoon you keep bitching about. You’re lucky I don’t claw your eyes out!” A pregnant pause. “So shut your fucking male-pig face and let me drink!”
Her outcry had all the patrons glaring at her. Good, she hoped she’d caused a scene. Perhaps Don would have an ounce of compassion for her now.
His face beet-red, Don lowered his head and hid in his food, seeming to want to crawl into the sustenance, if possible.
You ought to be embarrassed.
***
Thunder rumbled outside. In the din, no one identified the thud on top of the restaurant as anything other than the storm. Rain poured onto the roof, but Pishuni stayed dry. The deity’s grin spread to his ears. His plan was going swimmingly.
All right, you palefaced girlie-girl, I’ve got you now.
***
Where Fay sat, feeling no pain, a scorpion scurried by, and another table’s waitress squealed. The latter retrieved the cook. He stepped on it and wiped it up with a napkin. When Fay looked out of the window, a couple of crows took refuge under the awning.
“Fay,” a voice too deep to be human said inside her head.
She couldn’t keep from trembling. Fay hadn’t known lust could be as heavenly as the lesbian variety, but the pathetic man sitting across from her was in love with her. Plus, he supported her, and she didn’t know if the women at the bar would take her in. She downed her fourth margarita and demanded another while Don frowned at her.
Not that she was homophobic. Fay had tried lesbian sex in college. What girl hasn’t? She’d had one too many drinks and had always been bi-curious. But when she’d done it, she’d hadn’t enjoyed it that much. Apparently, things had changed. Perhaps now she could live with her lesbianism in order to save the world. She had to fight for the greater good.
“Fay Merrimount.”
The crowd was picking up now that it was nine o’clock. Huge businessmen, along with a few bikers with butch chicks in leather and denim hanging on their arms, entered and sat at the bar. At the sight of the mannish women with mullets, Fay uncrossed, then crossed her legs, breathing heavily.
First, she’d had a whirlwind romance with Don — they’d made love, for God’s sake — and now she’d become a lipstick lesbian? Who the hell was she? Fay wondered if she’d gone insane, and that made her panic all the more. Moreover, now she was hearing voices.
“This is Pishuni — the deity Don knows — and you’re not going crazy. I threatened him with turning you into a man-hating lesbian if he quit worshiping me. He did, so… now you’re gay and you hate men.”
Fear choked her like the hands of a serial murderer.
“Don’t be afraid. I’ve come to help you. You don’t have to be a man-hating lesbian, and you don’t have to have a failed marriage.
“I can change you back.”
Fay gasped.
Don looked at her cross-eyed.
“Not only that, but I can take away your grief from losing your family and Ben, plus give you the best honeymoon any couple’s ever had. I can make you come eighty times.”
Now that’s tempting.
Fay lost her fear as she understood what was really happening. But at the same time… “I’m supposed to trust you after what you did to my mom and uncle? Fuck you, you piece of shit! I hope the real God throws you in the lake of fire!” She hadn’t mean to say it out loud; it just happened. Don snapped his head her way, asking something to the effect of beg pardon? But it was as if he lurked in a glass box. His comments were muffled, and all she could concentrate on was Pishuni.
Another scorpion scurried under the table across from them. The patrons yelped.
“Sorry about this. I had to punish Don. He takes me for granted! But hey, you want your mom and uncle back? I can reverse the clock for them so they get called out of town on an emergency. I can even turn back time and make Ben run away and sleep on the glider outside his grandma’s house.
“Ask Don. I can make it happen.
“I can make anything happen.
“I am God.”
Fay wondered if she should excuse herself to go to the ladies’ room to discuss this with Pishuni. But really, all she had to do was talk to him with her thoughts. Not for a second was the prospect of having her family back, as well as Ben, not alluring — the biggest temptation she’d ever undergone in her short life. Plus, she couldn’t go on being a lesbian. What if she got a disease? What if she had to sleep in a box on the street because the women of Santa Fe wouldn’t take her home? What if they called her a dyke, ganged up on her and kicked her ass?
She put her face in her hands.
What am I thinking? Pishuni wants to destroy this beautiful city. Don’t let him! Just cut your losses and preserve Santa Fe. What about man- and womankind? What about the children? What about the animals dwelling here? How could I?
But I want my mother back!
Tears streamed out of her eyes, and Don glanced at her, touching her hand, which she yanked away in disgust. She didn’t even hear what he was saying. He might as well have been the teacher in Peanuts: �
�Wa-wa-wa-wa… Wa-wa-WA-wa-WA-WA.” Her hands trembled so badly she almost knocked over her margarita glass. She excused herself, then got up and power walked to the restroom, where she found an empty stall. Fay dove inside, her lips trembling.
It was just too much.
“Forgive me… everyone! I want love. Ben was too young to die. And I want my mother!”
She bawled.
“Come, Princess of Devastation.”
The grief was too much to bear. She took a deep breath. “Y-y-yes… B-bring my… family and my heterosexuality back.”
***
Pishuni cackled lightning as he sat atop the restaurant. He hurled downward with his hands, and each time he did, thunder exploded into the night. Crows surrounded him in a perfect circle. Pishuni’s grin killed good-hearted gestures in the hearts of the children in Santa Fe before they could act on them.
Again, he had won.
***
Don recognized a vivacious female heading toward his table. Fay slid into the booth, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief from her purse. “Sorry, I had to excuse myself.”
Don locked on her eyes. “What did you say?”
Fay smiled and took his hand. “I said I was sorry. Let’s have our honeymoon. You were just trying to talk sense into me.”
Don dropped his wine glass, and it spilled on what was left of his food and onto the table. “Damn it! What a klutz I am! Jesus Christ.” He attempted to wipe it up with his napkin. Remembering Fay’s previous rebuke, he looked up at her smiling face. “Oh, sorry, I mean Judas Priest.”
The waitress, severely beautiful as she performed the obsequious duty, flashed Don a pearly-white smile and cleaned it up for him.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
“It happens,” the waitress answered. She sopped it up the best she could. “Would you like a free order of green beans, cutie? On the house, along with dessert.”
Don refused to take his eyes off Fay. “That would be great, but this cutie is her husband.” He’d pointed at himself, then at Fay. An awkward pause followed. “You wouldn’t happen to have a banana split, would you?”
“We have key lime pie.”
He smiled. “That’ll work.”
With that the waitress swaggered off.