by Davis, Jarod
“Mean?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to be mean.”
“Can’t you just choose not to be?”
“I don’t know. Do you believe in human nature? I know most people think of demons and we have to be evil because we’re the ones running around with pitchforks, impregnating all of the virgins and spreading the plagues. And there could be some truth to that. But humans do terrible stuff too. You guys came up with mutually assured destruction, internet trolls, and printed warnings on hot coffee. That didn’t have anything to do with us. But it’s like we have to be evil because we’re a bunch of demons.”
“I believe you get to choose.”
“Did you choose to love your angel? You know, the one whose soul would fry you?” Isis asked, her hands together. She sounded shy and innocent, someone who couldn’t become a rhino and squish anyone in her way.
“No,” Timothy ignored the second part of her question, “But I can decide what I want to do about it.”
“Sure. So do you believe in human nature?”
“I’m not sure. There are so many of us. It’s hard to know for sure.”
“Demons do. We have a nature. We’re creatures of love, just like angels.”
“Cordinox mentioned that,” Timothy said, trying to remember what their leader said.
“Self-love. We love ourselves, nothing but ourselves. We look into ourselves all the time because nothing else matters. Everything else is superficial. Relationships die. Everything dies and changes. But we can hold onto ourselves, shifting, but confident we’re real.”
They stepped outside. Timothy’s car waited for him, but he stopped and wanted to know, “What do angels look at?”
“They see beauty when they explore the world. That’s why they can love others so totally.” Isis got quiet. “It’s easier for them, I think.”
“And how do you feel?”
“Maybe I’m just scared I don’t know what I’ll be. I’ve never been in a real war. Erzu makes sure we don’t get into fights we can’t win. He’s strong that way.” Isis paused and nibbled her lip. “Maybe I’ll feel differently after a real battle.”
“Maybe,” Timothy said, getting into his car. He had a date as a third wheel.
The first ninety percent of the night passed easily. They saw another movie, and again Terrance picked where they’d eat. Timothy tried to focus on the movie even as he felt very much like a jerk because he hoped Terrance would let his relationship disintegrate under the weight of his personality. If he’d been smarter, Timothy might’ve asked why Terrance kept everything to himself. Instead, he just hoped and tried to pretend that hoping didn’t make him the world’s worst human ever. The movie was decent, though most of Timothy’s attention was on Jenny and the way she scrunched away from Terrance’s hand. In the dimmed light of the movie’s glow, Jenny could’ve been confused or irritated.
Then there was the restaurant. It was a trendy place over on Howe Avenue, one of the big streets that fed Sac State the mass of commuters that made up the student body. When they first got there, the buzz of patrons pressed around them. By the time their food got there, Timothy had to shout for Terrance and Jenny to hear him.
Terrance talked to Timothy and pretty much ignored Jenny. She watched the conversation, but she looked like a scout or a scientist, someone who wanted to understand what was happening in front of her. They jumped conversations about investment strategies to the greatest beer to the best way to die. That last one came from Terrance. Timothy wasn’t good at reading people, but he thought Terrance was nervous, trying to overcompensate for something. Each word came out a little too fast. Jenny’s boyfriend sounded nervous.
“I vote drowning,” Terrance said.
“Why?”
“I don’t know, something to do with going into the water. Seems scary.”
“And you want your death to be scary?” Timothy asked.
“I’m brave that way.”
“There are other words for it.”
“How would you want to die?”
Timothy thought about that for a second, “Saving someone. I think it would be cool. Some big and noble sacrifice sounds fun.”
“Hero?”
“Not really. Just a good way to make sure my life meant something.”
“So rather than recycle or volunteer or something, you want the big gesture?”
“It’s one way to go,” Timothy said.
Feeling rich, Timothy ordered one of the desserts: a Chocolate Blossom. He didn’t know what that meant until he saw the bowl of ice-cream lined with thin strips of chocolate. It was expensive and not bad. Nothing came from Jenny until they were half way through their dessert. She just watched him to that point when she asked, “Where are you from, Timothy?”
“I’ve lived in Sacramento for the last few years. My family moved here when I was five.”
“From where?”
“Las Vegas, actually.”
“That must’ve been fun,” Terrance said.
“And who was your fourth grade teacher?” she asked.
“Mrs. Hollands?” Timothy guessed, his head tilted a little as he tried to figure out why she’d care. Then he saw the look on Terrance’s face.
“Do you have a favorite movie?” she asked.
“I do.”
“What is it?”
“I’d rather not say that one.”
“What about you?” she asked and turned to Terrance. “What’s your favorite movie?”
“Don’t have one. There are too many good ones out there.”
“How about something else then?”
“What’s your favorite?” Terrance smiled with all of the confidence of someone who owned nukes and had a million fans.
“Oh no. You don’t get to do that. What’s your favorite movie?”
“C’mon Jenny, do we really have to do this?”
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Why won’t you tell me anything about yourself?”
“I like being mysterious,” Terrance spoke like that was a good time for sarcasm. Timothy felt himself scoot back when he saw the heat of anger sizzle along Jenny’s features.
“One thing. C’mon, just one,” she demanded, and that was the first time Timothy heard her voice with a vein of anger. Jenny didn’t do rage. Somehow it was scarier than the demons he’d fought. “Share something. Anything.” She said it like she was talking to a picture, someone who wasn’t really there.
“Let’s just relax.”
“Sure,” Timothy added, though he couldn’t keep a little bit of his own skepticism out of his voice. Part of him said he should try to put them back together. It would be the right thing to do. They deserved to be happy. Then another part said that he shouldn’t do anything, and he reminded himself it technically wasn’t any of his business. So he asked about midterms. Terrance talked some more, relieved to get away from his girlfriend’s interrogation, while Jenny fell back into quiet.
They paid and left and no one said anything on the way back to The Verge.
Timothy stood in the hall, right outside his door. He had his key out with every intention of being a good guy and going back inside. It was cold and standing there made him look like an idiot, but then he heard their voices carry. He didn’t need a superhero’s senses to hear them down there. It sounded like they would break up because intimacy might have actually been necessary for a relationship to work.
“Please, just tell me the truth,” she pleaded. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I just don’t like talking about myself.”
“Why not?”
“No reason.”
“C’mon. Please.” Timothy couldn’t tell if she was begging or demanding.
“No reason,” Terrance repeated like someone trapped against a wall or a pack of angry wolves. Remembering how Jenny’s voice simmered with anger, that accompanying shiver of fear, Timothy couldn’t figure out which would be worse, the pack or the girl. Jeremiah said something about that once
, how sweet girls were even scarier when they grew their claws.
Jenny had her claws, “Why are we together?”
“I care about you.”
“Why am I with you?” There wasn’t any hostility there. “Why? I don’t know you.”
“Don’t we have fun? Don’t you feel something for me?” Timothy stopped, like he thought he heard something. He turned back and looked down at them. And he didn’t know what he saw. If he stared and squinted, everything on trying to understand the image in front of him, he still didn’t know what it meant. Lines of light, blurred and barely there, like just three or four pixels on a screen. White, yellow, blue and crimson, he thought they could’ve been a part of Jenny. He didn’t remember the hue of red. But then he blinked and it was gone, like it had been destroyed or absorbed.
Terrance glanced up and Timothy made a point of going back to the door of his apartment. But he could still hear them.
“Fun?” Jenny said with a shake of her head. “Sure, but there has to be something else.”
“You don’t feel that way.”
“I think I do.”
“You don’t feel that way,” he said. “You know me. You want to know me. You love me, the same way I love you.”
“I don’t think I do.” Jenny hesitated. “I don’t think I can.” Eager to distract himself, Timothy concentrated on her with his demon soul and saw a flare of blue and white. Trying to look invisible, he heard her say, “We’re done,” and that’s when Timothy disappeared behind his door.
Jeremiah was on the other side, reading something. “For class?” Timothy asked, unsure if he should tell his roommate the good news. A streak of guilt cut across his mind. Their breakup shouldn’t be good news. Jenny was probably hurt, maybe even crying; that could never be good, no matter what it meant for him.
“Never,” Jeremiah answered. “I learn what I choose.”
“Some would call you narrow minded.”
“That’s because I’m not narrow the way they want. Find me a class where I can study Paddington ambushes, critical analyses of curricula vitae, Kathy Kane, or Reina Del Cid. In the meantime, I’ll be a great student who never reads while I study whatever I feel like. Seriously dude, don’t you ever wonder about the connection between emotions and conscience?”
“No,” Timothy said. “I really don’t.”
“Get over your girl and it’ll be easier for you,” Jeremiah said.
“I’d rather not, thanks.”
“She’s just a female, one of about three billion. She can’t be that special. I mean, she’s not even very attractive.” Timothy spun on his friend; a flare of anger rushed through his fingers. Holding up his hands for peace, Jeremiah reminded him, “Dude, just looking at her from a detached perspective, she’s not that hot. Most guys wouldn’t go for her. She’s your average brown haired girl with brown eyes, nothing special.”
“It’s so much more than how she looks.”
“Three billion girls. Couldn’t you find one of them?”
“She’s different. Unique,” Timothy said.
“We’re all different. All completely different, yet pretty much the same.”
“You’re feeling cynical today.”
“And you’re sounding bipolar. What happened?”
Timothy dropped himself into one of their seats and asked, “You ever hide stuff from the women in your life?”
“Sometimes. I try to be vague.”
“Why?” Timothy asked.
“Usually because I know there are components of my personality they aren’t going to like. Few people can really appreciate the humor inherent in bukake.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
“Jenny’s boyfriend just lost her because he wouldn’t tell her anything about himself.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing but how much he cared about her.”
“Interesting,” Jeremiah said. “I’m surprised he didn’t know how to lie better. It’s not hard. Anyone who has a secret learns to lie pretty quickly. It’s like breathing, something we all know how to do.”
“What about people who feel guilty, the people who can’t do it very well?”
“Lack of practice,” Jeremiah explained. “That or there’s an emotional block. They’re told all their lives that secrets are bad even as they forget all of those stupid little conventions that necessitate keeping certain aspects of their lives to themselves. A good liar loses that distinction and recognizes that everything’s there, but we pick what we say. That’s why I’ll rule the world.”
“Sure.”
“Just wait. One day you’ll get to say you knew the Emperor of the World. But in the meantime,” Jeremiah set his book aside, “Have you gone after her yet?”
“Dude, they broke up like five minutes ago.”
“Is she attractive?”
“Yes.”
“Is she single?”
“I guess.”
“Then there’s some guy after her right now. Give her another twenty minutes, and she’ll be in a long term relationship.” Jeremiah spoke like an expert. He made it sound like there was no way he could ever be wrong.
“You’re not serious.”
“No,” Jeremiah said. “Not really, though my arguments stand. She attracted you, right? What makes you think you’re the only one to see her true beauty? Who admires the glimmers of her soul? Dude, if Terrance wanted her, other guys are going to be chasing her too.”
“She needs time. Right?”
“Time for what?”
“To get over him? Wouldn’t I just be a rebound?”
“Only if she’s healthy, but what are the chances of that?”
“Jerk,” Timothy mumbled again before going back to his bedroom.
When he picked up a textbook and started reading, Timothy wasn’t thinking about missing a lecture tonight. He wasn’t thinking about the connections between witchcraft and popular culture or anything else from Anthropology. He wasn’t even thinking about what Jeremiah said; Timothy thought about the fear that his roommate left, the little anxiety that itched at the bottom of his stomach. Timothy got up, paced his room, sat down, tried to read, turned on his stereo, and ignored the music. Every second and he wanted to move, wanted to see her again.
He could go see Jenny, ask how she was doing. Something felt wrong about that. He didn’t want to look like someone pouncing. She wasn’t a wounded gazelle. He got his laundry and went outside. Jeremiah laughed at him when he glanced up from his reading. Timothy ignored him. Down the stairs, through the cold of eleven at night, Timothy blinked when he saw the laundry lights were on.
Inside he noticed someone stuffing clothes into one of the machines. Jenny. Of course the universe put her there where he would find her. Timothy knew he should’ve been surprised, but this made sense. If she didn’t want to talk to someone, this was a good place at this hour. If she wanted something mindless to do with her hands, this was another good place to be.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” Jenny said and glanced up long enough to tuck a bang of hair behind her ear.
“How’d it go?”
“We broke up.”
Timothy couldn’t read her tone and didn’t know what to say. “How much do you need?”
“A lot,” Jenny said, looking up at him. “I want to know who he is. I want to know who my boyfriend is. It can’t just be him watching me, can it? Isn’t that kind of broken?”
“A little,” Timothy said, dropping his stuff next to her pile of clothes.
“But I feel different now that we’re not together. It’s strange, like I’m thinking differently. The world, it just feels different.” And she sounded hopeful.
“That’s happened to me before. I fell in love with this girl a long time ago, and then everything was about her. We broke up and then I saw that there were a lot more people out there.”
“I don’t know if that’s what I’m feeling.”
“You’re not very g
ood at the whole feelings thing, are you?” Timothy had to ask. And it took a few seconds to realize those words could get him in a lot of trouble. Jeremiah would have enjoyed watching his roommate squirm. Timothy could win, but only when he was stuck in the friend zone. Defeat would follow right when she was free. That sounded like Jeremiah’s style of comedy.
But Jenny laughed a little, enough for her to glance down because she knew she should’ve been insulted, “No. Not really I guess. There was just something about him. Something different.”
“Are you sad?” Timothy asked.
“No,” she said. “More like refreshed.” She gathered the last of her clothes to head back outside. “It’s a shame though. My roommate really liked him.”
“I’m sure she’ll get over it.”
“Or date him.”
“Isn’t that against the rules?”
“What rules?”
“I don’t know,” Timothy shrugged. “The rules that say you’re not supposed to date your friend’s ex.”
“I don’t think I’d mind.” She got to the door. Timothy went back to doing his laundry and making sure he didn’t stare after her. Jenny was free and Timothy was free to ask her out. Half of his attention was somewhere else, starting to poke at the right words for that kind of question. But then he heard her ask, “Timothy?” half way out the door.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. Again, just thank you.” Then he was alone, trying to calculate the chance of just being a friend or becoming everything more.
Five
Laundry in hand, Timothy jogged for the stairs. The cold pushed him faster. His heart pounded a little harder and he couldn’t remember how it felt to be tired. This was his chance. She was free. He could ask her out and he had all of these plans, different thoughts about the best way to do it. Now he got to worry about flower shops, the cost of fine chocolates, and where he could take her.
Eyes on every step in front of him, he didn’t notice the shadow coalesce from darkness. Timothy didn’t hear someone take careful, unnoticed steps. But maybe rage dulled the need for strategy, because Timothy heard from behind him, “You really messed me up tonight.” Timothy stopped and turned around to see Terrance standing there, a knife in hand. It was long, sharp, and clean, everything he saw a couple days ago when Darkor tried to gut him.