Divine Misfortune (2010) (14 page)

“That bitch.”

“Hold on,” said Bonnie. “Don’t you think you’re aiming your wrath at the wrong target?”

“Who does she think she is?”

Steve returned with their drinks. Syph ran her finger along the edge of her glass, and the water boiled.

“Can I take your order now?” asked Steve.

“Two specials,” said Bonnie quickly.

“Ma’am, we don’t have any specials.”

“We’ll take the enchiladas then.”

“We don’t serve—”

She grabbed his pad. “Steve, we are in the middle of something important. I don’t know if you’re really that oblivious or
you haven’t noticed that this is a goddess of tragedy and she’s in a really, really bad mood. Either way, why don’t you just
bring us whatever you like best?”

“Actually, I don’t eat here. Confidentially, I hate Italian food. And the cook doesn’t wear a hairnet.”

Bonnie ground her teeth. “Spaghetti. We’ll take two orders of spaghetti.”

“Meat sauce or marinara?”

“You’re screwing with me.”

“A little bit,” admitted Steve.

Janet flipped her hair and scratched Lucky’s ear.

Syph slammed her fists on the table and the entire restaurant rattled. Every candle on every table erupted, sending up geysers
of flame, melting the plastic holders, and scorching the ceiling.

Everyone in the restaurant, including Lucky, looked in Syph’s direction.

“Spaghetti,” said Steve. “Got it.” He bolted for the kitchen.

Lucky stood and started walking over to the table.

Bonnie whispered to Syph, “Be strong.”

He stood before them.

“Hi,” Bonnie said and immediately regretted it.

Syph pushed forth a smile. “Oh, hi, Lucky.”

He took a seat at the table, steepled his fingers, and frowned. “What are you doing here, Syph?”

She fiddled with her fork. “Nothing.”

Bonnie wondered if she should say something, but she decided to let the situation unfurl on its own. She would’ve excused
herself, but she had a vested interest in how it turned out.

Lucky’s ears fell flat. “Syph…”

“We’re just having dinner,” replied the goddess lightly, unable to look in his direction. “This is Bonnie. She’s my follower.”

“Syph…”

“We’re allowed to have dinner!” said Syph a bit too eagerly. “I don’t care what that restraining order says.”

Caught in mid-drink, Bonnie sputtered and choked.

“We’ve been over this,” said Lucky. “I get North and South America, Asia, and Antarctica. You get Africa, Europe, and Australia.”

Syph spoke into her chest. “Australia is barely a continent.”

“Fine. I’ll trade you Antarctica for Australia if it bothers you so much.”

“Whatever. I’ve been thinking. We’re two mature, immortal beings. We should be able to work this out in a reasonable way without
all the drama, right?”

“We should,” said Lucky suspiciously.

“Honestly, I don’t even see what the big deal is. Maybe I overreacted a bit at first, but that was before I realized that
you’ll come to your senses. Eventually. All I have to do is be patient.”

“Fine. Be patient. Just be patient somewhere else.”

Syph laughed. She tried to pass it off as casual and light, but it was forced and high-pitched.

“You always were a witty one.” She nodded at Janet. “Who is that?”

“Nobody,” said Lucky.

“Is she your date? Are you dating a mortal?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I can’t believe you’d actually stoop to dating a mortal.” Syph chuckled coldly and elbowed Bonnie in the ribs. “What century
is this anyway?”

Bonnie made a noncommittal gruntish sort of noise.

Lucky forced an impatient smile. “She’s nice.”

“I’m sure she is,” said Syph. “She’s also doomed to dust.”

“Syph…”

The goddess threw up her hands. “It’s true, isn’t it? She is mortal, after all. They all find their way into the grave sooner
or later. Usually sooner.”

Lucky stood on the chair, put his hands on the table, and leaned forward. “You’ll leave her alone.”

“Of course, of course. She seems lovely, doesn’t she, Bonnie?”

Bonnie stuck her beer in her mouth by way of reply.

Lucky’s fur bristled as an electrical crackle passed between the god and goddess. The dim lighting flickered.

The manager, a tall woman in a pantsuit, approached the table.

“I’m sorry. Is there a problem here?”

Bonnie expected the manager to be blasted to atoms by a withering glance from the god and goddess. Lucky and Syph both smiled.

“No problem.” He hopped off the chair. “Just a couple of old friends catching up. Nice to see you, Syph. Sorry you couldn’t
stay longer.” He walked away, and all the divine energies dissipated from the atmosphere.

The manager exhaled, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. She made an offering of complimentary bread sticks to the goddess,
but Bonnie turned them down. She grabbed Syph by the arm and dragged her out of the restaurant. Syph protested, but Bonnie
ignored her. She knew it wasn’t at all wise to manhandle a goddess, but she didn’t care. She shoved Syph into the car and
didn’t say another word until she’d driven a few miles away.

“I was actually looking forward to the spaghetti,” said Syph.

“What just happened in there?” Bonnie tried to keep the edge from her voice, but it didn’t work.

“I talked to him. Just like you wanted me to.”

“That wasn’t what I wanted.”

“It wasn’t?”

Bonnie was so distracted, she ran a red light and was nearly hit by a truck.

Syph suggested, “You might want to drive carefully when your passenger is a goddess of tragedy. You never know when a bus
full of orphans is nearby.”

Bonnie pulled into a supermarket parking lot.

“What was that thing he mentioned? Something about a restraining order?”

“Oh, that.” Syph folded her arms and shrugged. “That’s nothing. Just a little misunderstanding, that’s all. I did some things,
some embarrassing things. Maybe I overreacted when we had our problems. I admit that. Anyway, it’s not a restraining order
per se. It’s more of a voluntary territorial division arbitrated by the Court of Divine Affairs.” Syph turned her head away
and mumbled, “More silly than anything else.”

“What did you do?” asked Bonnie despite herself.

“Oh, I just kept him from making any mistakes until he realizes he really does love me. Lucky always did fancy the mortals
a bit too much. I just helped him to understand how fleeting their affections were.”

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you? To him. That’s why he wasn’t surprised to see you.”

“It was your idea to talk to him,” said Syph. “Really, it’s your fault.”

“I notice you didn’t mention the restraining order—”

“Voluntary territorial division,” corrected the goddess.

“This is what you do? You follow this god around, ruining his love life, along with whatever random mortals you come across?”

“You make it sound so…”

“Pathetic?” interrupted Bonnie.

“The pursuit of love is never pathetic.”

Bonnie laid her head on the wheel and laughed for a solid minute.

“And to think that I was actually feeling sorry for you earlier tonight. Now I find out you’ve devoted your endless life to
making everyone as miserable as you are.”

“You don’t understand, Bonnie. The path to true love is never easy. Not even for immortals. He loves me. I know he does, even
if he doesn’t. If I can help him to realize that then everything will work out the way it was always meant to.”

“Okay, you’re creeping me out now. Do you have any idea how unbalanced that sounds? You can’t make someone love you.”

Syph chuckled lightly. “Don’t be absurd. Of course I can. I’m the goddess of love.”

“More like the goddess of stalkers,” replied Bonnie. “Did you ever stop to think that if you’d just let this go, stop fixating
on this one rejection as the defining moment of your unending life, that you might be able to leave this trail of doom and
gloom behind you? Maybe what happened to you has nothing to do with Lucky. Maybe it’s your own damned fault for refusing to
move on.”

Syph’s brow furrowed. Her jaw clenched.

“You just don’t get it, do you? But you’ll see. I’ll show you.”

She stared straight ahead at a little old lady carrying a bag of groceries in front of the parked car. The bottom of the sack
fell out, spilling oranges, a carton of eggs, and a jar of jelly that shattered on the pavement.

“Oh for cryin’…” Bonnie exited the car and helped the woman salvage what groceries she could. When she returned to the car,
the goddess was gone. Gone, but not forgotten. The heaviness still weighed on Bonnie’s heart. And three words were burned
into the pleather cushions of the passenger seat.

I’ll show you.

Over the next few weeks, things fell into place for Teri and Phil.

Lucky spent less and less time at the house. His dates with Janet grew more frequent, and he usually slept over at her place
four or five times a week. They spent more time with Quick than with their own god. Sometimes they would go days without seeing
Lucky at all, with only rumpled Hawaiian shirts in the hamper to tell them he’d popped in for a visit and grabbed a shower
and something to eat before heading back to Janet’s place.

When they suggested that Quick use the guest room, he refused. The room was more than just a closet full of Lucky’s clothes
and an unused bed. It was the shrine to their god, the sacred space devoted to his appeasement. Even if he didn’t use it for
much, it still counted as tribute.

Quick was stuck on the sofa, but he was quiet and a decent cook. And he was considerate enough to leave the house every so
often to give them their privacy. Usually, he’d just go for a slither around the block for a few hours or sit in the backyard
with a glass of tomato juice and a book. It wasn’t very godlike behavior, but he had long ago abandoned the ways of tribute
and favor.

“I’m just trying to get my head together,” he’d explained. “I don’t really need to mess around with that game right now.”

Both mortals knew that Quick was just making excuses, but they saw no need to push things. He was immortal. He had plenty
of time to “find himself.” It really was none of their business. They just chalked up the serpent god living in their midst
to more tribute for Lucky, and as long as Quick was willing to do the dishes every now and then, they didn’t feel too put
out.

Janet and Lucky’s relationship changed from infatuation to genuine affection much faster than either was willing to admit,
but Teri noticed. At her lunches with Janet, she’d catch Janet smiling wistfully and wouldn’t have to guess what or who she
was thinking about. More and more, the discussions became about something “cute” Lucky did or some romantic gesture or just
something funny he’d said. Teri considered putting in a discouraging word, but she didn’t see the point in throwing cold water
on it just because it was most probably doomed to an ugly end. Most relationships were, when she really thought about it.

It was hard to be negative, though, when good luck was in their hip pocket. Everything started going right. It wasn’t big
or obvious, but it was noticeable. Aside from the twenty to thirty bucks of loose change Phil and Teri found every day, there
were other subtle benefits. Any supermarket line they chose was always the fastest. Even the most crowded restaurant just
happened to have a table available upon their arrival. They were always the twentieth caller to the radio contest, found things
on sale just when they needed them to be, and rarely had to deal with traffic jams. Lucky didn’t fix their lives, but he did
remove all those little annoyances that made the bigger problems harder to focus on. Phil took advantage of this to just relax
while Teri found she could accomplish so much more.

There were still the quirks of luck. Phil stepped in gum at least once a day, and Teri found that her shower would inexplicably
blast her with cold water about once a week. But these were just annoyances, and nothing compared to the frustration that
a single bad day could create.

The strangest thing was the animals: the birds, squirrels, stray dogs and cats that appeared around them. Always red. Always
speckled. Always with the large blue eyes.

Lucky told them it was nothing to worry about and that the animals would go away eventually. They just needed to give it some
time.

But the animals kept coming.

Phil and Teri grew used to seeing them. In the end, they seemed less threatening than the daily gum on Phil’s shoe, so after
a while, both mortals stopped really noticing.

And life, blessed by good fortune and serendipity, was good.

Phil had seen the Supervisor walking the office before. He’d nodded to her a few times. And once, he’d even shaken her hand
while passing by as introductions were being thrown around. But she was too far above him on the corporate ladder to have
any deeper interaction on those few occasions when she descended from the seventh floor. She usually appeared like a phantom
from a special elevator, spoke to one of the fourth-floor department heads, and disappeared whence she came. Which was why
it was surprising when she took a sharp right down Phil’s row of cubicles. Everyone kept their eyes on their work as she proceeded
down the aisle.

He bent over his keyboard and squinted at the screen as if his life depended on it. It was several moments before he realized
she had paused by his cubicle.

He glanced from the corner of his eye to be sure, not willing to look away from his work for fear of getting caught slacking
off. In his peripheral vision, she was a blurry shadow, the living embodiment of all the nebulous dangers that lurked, barely
seen and never spoken of, waiting to devour careless members of lower middle management who revealed just how redundant their
positions were.

The Supervisor didn’t say anything. She just stood there.

He slowed his typing and turned his head. She wasn’t nearly as terrifying as he’d assumed, but he’d never looked at her directly
before. She was a short, stout woman. Her plain gray suit was wrinkle-free, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She
didn’t smile, but she wasn’t frowning either. She was inscrutable.