Divine Misfortune (2010) (13 page)

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“How do you know he’s in there?” asked Bonnie.

“I just know.”

“Okay then. Do you want me to go in with you or do you think you can handle it on your own?”

Syph slouched in her seat.

“I can go in with you if you want,” said Bonnie.

Syph sighed, and the rearview mirror fell off. Bonnie had long since moved past commenting on things like this. She’d almost
stopped noticing them. She waited for Syph to say or do anything, but the goddess just sat there.

“What’s wrong?” asked Bonnie.

“I can’t do it.”

“What?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I can’t go in there.”

Bonnie tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

“Do you want to stay a goddess of heartbreak forever?”

“No.”

“Well, the first step to changing that is to confront the lousy bastard whose rejection turned you into… this.”

“I guess that makes sense,” said Syph quietly.

“You’re damn right it makes sense. This guy rejected you. He treated you like crap. You, the goddess of love!”

“He wasn’t as bad as all that. Really, it was more my fault than his.”

Overwhelming gloom filled the car. Even knowing it was a foreign despair forcing itself upon her didn’t help Bonnie resist
entirely. She rolled down her windows in hopes of letting the negativity escape.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself. And to me. And to people like me. Being divine doesn’t give you the right to go
around destroying people’s lives.”

Syph raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“So maybe it does,” admitted Bonnie. “You can keep doing this until the end of time, jumping from mortal to mortal, crushing
hopes and joy one victim at a time. We can’t stop you. I know I certainly can’t. But you keep saying you’re sorry about this.
That doesn’t mean anything. Not unless you try to prevent it.”

Syph said nothing. Bonnie wrung the wheel, trying to read the inscrutable goddess.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” asked Syph softly.

“Do you care if he likes you?”

“I don’t know. Should I? Is it wrong that I care what he thinks?”

“You were dumped. It’s not weird to have mixed feelings. You resent him for rejecting you, but you also want him back because
you weren’t ready for it. And maybe underneath that, you feel like because he rejected you that you have something to prove
by showing him he made a mistake. And if you can get him to take you back it’ll be vindication, show that you are worth something.”

“You seem to be an expert on this,” said Syph.

“No more than anyone else,” replied Bonnie. “We mortals have to deal with this a lot. Most of us anyway.”

“How sad for you. To have your short lives burdened by such complications.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” agreed Bonnie.

She surrendered to the ennui and just slumped in defeat. She didn’t even cry. Not because she wasn’t terminally depressed.
But it was such an overwhelming hopelessness that she just felt numb.

“So if I go in there and talk to him, it’ll make me feel better?” asked Syph.

“Yes, it will.” Bonnie half-smiled. “Absolutely, it will. Maybe.” She tried looking Syph in the face and lying to her, but
she couldn’t. Whether this was due to her honest nature or the draining effects of the goddess wasn’t clear. It took energy
to lie. Energy Bonnie didn’t have.

“Probably not,” said Bonnie. “Some people will tell you that it’s good for closure, but I think they’re fooling themselves.
It’s not like you’re going to knock on that door and have a twenty-minute discussion that’ll fix all your problems. Usually,
the conversation is either ugly or awkward or both and you walk away feeling worse about yourself or just pissed off at the
whole world.”

“Then why do it?” asked Syph.

Bonnie thought about it a moment.

“Because you have two choices. Choice number one: get over it and move on with your life. That’s the healthy thing to do,
the best way to handle it. Considering that you’ve been nursing this depression for a few thousand years, I don’t think that’s
an option.”

Syph lowered her head as ice formed on the dashboard.

“Odin’s missing eye,” grumbled Bonnie. It was hard enough keeping herself from giving up, but the goddess of tragedy was even
more easily discouraged. And when Syph felt down, that negativity transferred to Bonnie. It was a vicious cycle.

“Oh, for Olympus’s sake, snap out of it.” She smacked Syph on the shoulder. “Go up and knock on that door and confront this
guy. It probably won’t make you feel better, but it’s just something you have to do. Don’t you think two thousand years of
misery are enough? This isn’t unrequited love anymore. It’s not even unhealthy obsession. It’s just pathetic.”

“No mortal has ever dared talk to me this way.” Syph’s face reddened.

“Does it make you mad?” asked Bonnie. “Does it piss you off? Good. That means that you’re not an entirely lost cause. Now
get in there and give this god some of that divine wrath everyone is always talking about.”

“I would, but he has company.”

Syph pointed to a car pulling into the house’s driveway. Bonnie ducked down, though she wasn’t sure why.

“You don’t have to worry,” said Syph. “I’ve made the car invisible.”

Janet exited the car and rang the doorbell. The door was answered by a raccoon.

Syph ducked. “Get down.”

Bonnie did so. “I thought you made us invisible.”

“It doesn’t work on other gods.”

Bonnie raised her head just enough to see the raccoon. “Wait a minute. You’re not telling me that… that’s the god that broke
your heart?”

“Yes,” said Syph.

“That god?”

“Yes.”

“With the fuzzy tail and loudest Hawaiian shirt I have ever seen? The god who is wearing sunglasses even though it’s eight
in the evening.”

“Yes.”

“The god who stands maybe three feet tall at—”

“Yes,” said Syph. “That god!”

Lucky took Janet’s hand and placed his muzzle against it.

“What was that?” asked Syph. “Was that a kiss?”

“I don’t think raccoons have lips capable of kissing,” said Bonnie. “That seemed like more of a nuzzle.”

He said something, and Janet laughed.

“Are they flirting?” asked Syph.

Janet knelt down and playfully ruffled the fur on his head.

“She is flirting with him.” Syph didn’t shout, but only because she spoke through clenched teeth. “Is this a date?”

“It looks like a date,” said Bonnie as Lucky and Janet climbed into her car.

Bonnie started her car.

“What are you doing?” asked Syph.

“I’m following them,” replied Bonnie, still slouching behind her wheel somewhat.

“Why?”

“Because…”

Something was different about Syph now. Maybe it was jealousy. Or rage. Or maybe just unpleasant discomfort from seeing the
object of her obsession getting on with his life before her. Whatever it was, it was better than the constant ennui radiating
from her. Either way, Bonnie was worried that if she told Syph any of this it might go away.

“Why not?” said Bonnie.

Janet wasn’t usually intimidated by the gods. She had enough experience with powers to remove most of the mystery and romance
from the divine. She’d mingled with gods. Flirted with a few. And screwed several. But she’d never been on a date with a god.
Not a real date.

She realized this on the drive to the restaurant, and for the first time ever, she wasn’t sure what to say.

“So…” She started without having any other part of the sentence mapped out. Her improvisational skills abandoned her.

“So…” replied Lucky.

They didn’t say anything for a few minutes. The radio didn’t even have the consideration to fill the silence with music. Instead,
it played commercials. Janet flipped through the channels, but the radio refused to cooperate and she finally gave up, stopping
on an Oracle Friends’ Network ad.

Lucky snorted. “That is such a scam.”

“Really?”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leaned closer. “Nobody has had a destiny in a thousand years. Not an official destiny
anyway. Things got too big for that a long time ago. It was a lot easier to preconfigure the paths of fate when there weren’t
so damn many of you mortals running around. Now it’s pretty much impossible. I think the last guy the Fates tried to guide
was Gary Hamelin. And we all know how that worked out.”

“Never heard of him,” she said.

“Exactly.”

“Well, my mom swears by them. Said they helped her find some lost keys one time.”

“Oh, yeah, they’re good for stuff like that, I suppose. Just don’t expect them to be infallible. It’s a good way to end up
doing life in a Peruvian prison.”

“Gary Hamelin?” she asked.

“Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

They shared a light chuckle, and for a moment, Janet thought the ice was broken. They’d already hung out, already slept together.
But there was still an uncomfortable aura around this date.

“Why did you ask me out?” It’d been on her mind for a while now, though she hadn’t intended on inquiring. But she was desperate
for any conversational thread, and this one just sprang spontaneously.

“Oh, no reason. Why did you say yes?”

“I had a choice? I thought if I refused you’d transform me into a spider or a flower or something like that.”

“Fruit basket.”

“What?”

“I usually transform people into fruit baskets.”

She studied him from the corner of her eye, noticing the slight smirk on his muzzle.

“Oh, you are so full of shit,” she said. “You don’t do that.”

“You got me. And you’re full of it, too. You didn’t say yes because you were worried about being smote by a disappointed god.”

“Okay, so you got me,” she admitted. “So you would’ve been disappointed if I’d said no?”

“Of course.”

“I’m just surprised. I didn’t think gods dated mortals much anymore. Not like official date dates. If you know what I mean.”

“Kind of fell out of fashion,” he admitted. “Mind if I turn up the radio?”

“No, no. Go ahead.”

“Dancing Queen” came out of the radio. Lucky’s ears fell flat. “Oh, Tiamat, I hate this song.”

“Go ahead and change it.”

“Thanks.” He fiddled with the tuner until he found a song that pleased him. “That’s better.”

“’Waterloo?’”

“Yeah,” said Lucky. “Great song.”

“But isn’t ‘Waterloo’ by ABBA?”

“That’s right.”

“And isn’t ’Dancing Queen’ by ABBA?”

“Correctamundo.”

“And don’t they sound almost identical?” asked Janet.

“What’s’a matter? Don’t you like ABBA?”

“Who doesn’t like ABBA?” said Janet.

“Hecate,” said Lucky. “Huge Bee Gees fan. But what can you expect from a goddess of darkness?”

“Don’t change the subject. You were just telling me that you like ‘Waterloo’ but not ’Dancing Queen.’ Even though, by and
large, they’re the same song. At least stylistically.”

“Oh, sure, stylistically,” agreed Lucky. “But ’Dancing Queen’ is a vapid little emptiness. ’Waterloo,’ on the other hand,
is a noble study into humanity, a continuation of the great Greek tragedy tradition. Yet it’s also a triumph of the mortal
spirit, an unwillingness to surrender against the inevitable darkness, and even an ability to find comfort in defeat.” He
snapped his fingers along with the tune. “She can’t refuse, but at least she feels like she wins when she loses. Think about
it.”

“Oh, I will,” said Janet with strained sincerity.

“Music has always been the greatest expression of mortal philosophy,” continued Lucky. “The path to enlightenment is found
in the lyrics of Spinal Tap.”

“That’s not even a real band. Next you’ll be extolling the virtues of the Monkees.”

“Nah. Every ounce of the Monkees’ artistic merit left with Peter Tork.”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

He flashed a devilish smile. “You’ll just have to figure that out on your own.”

“You’re so full of shit,” she said with a chuckle.

“Usually, but most mortals are either too awed or too afraid to call me on it. Take Phil and Teri. They’re good kids, but
they’re always walking on eggshells around me.”

“But I don’t,” she said.

“No, you don’t. You’re a rare breed of mortal, Janet. You aren’t afraid and you aren’t disdainful. No pressure. No expectations.
You have no idea how attractive we gods find that in a mortal.”

“Thanks.”

“Plus, you’ve got a great ass.”

Janet gave him a light slap on the shoulder. “I do believe you’re going to make me blush, Mr. Luck God.”

Bonnie tailed Lucky and Janet to an Italian restaurant. The god and his date went inside while Bonnie and Syph waited in the
parking lot for a few minutes.

“What now?” asked Syph.

“Now, we go in.”

“Isn’t that a bit rude?”

Under ordinary circumstances, Bonnie wouldn’t have considered it. But she was fighting for her life here. Good manners were
a restriction she was willing to ignore. She was actually hoping for an ugly scene. Anything to snap Syph out of her funk.

They were in luck. The place was busy and the hostess offered them the only available table, which was within view of Lucky,
who sat in a booth with his back to them. It gave her time to think this through.

The waiter, Steve, spilled out tonight’s drink specials. Bonnie didn’t pay attention. She cut him off, ordering a beer.

“And you, ma’am?” Steve asked Syph.

The goddess offered no reply. Her unblinking stare focused on Janet.

“She’ll take a water,” said Bonnie.

“Great. Can I interest you in some appetizers?”

“Just the drinks right now. Thanks.” Bonnie nudged him aside to get a better view. He took the hint and went to the kitchen.

Lucky and Janet shared a laugh.

Syph scowled. The wax bubbled on the small candle in the center of the table, and its flame turned black.

Bonnie fanned the flames, metaphorically.

“They certainly seem to be having a good time.”

The goddess tore ten long slashes in the tablecloth and wood with her fingernails. A spiderweb of black and blue veins darkened her face and neck. She literally hissed.