A Quiet Way to Spend Ten Years (II)

I tried to stand, but my legs failed when my perspective changed. The darkness spun. I felt as if I’d been trapped inside a centrifuge, my soul portioned out into its pieces and exposed for anyone to see. “There was a problem, though,” I said shakily. “It turns out I’m terrible at judging people. I put my faith in middle-men and financiers, always thinking that the next VC was my way out. One more shot of cash, and I’d get my life off of the ground. “By twenty-five I was flat broke. My next birthday found me laying bricks.” Mephy laughed. Her fingernails, as sharp as scalpels, had begun to trim my ragged calluses. Blood flew; I flinched, but it hadn’t come from me. There was a sharp, unearthly howl, then Cerberus was clambering across my stomach to rest his forepaws on my chest. His first and second heads explored my face, but I could only watch, horrified, as their brother hung down limply on the right. Mephy squeezed my hand. “You’ve been a carpenter since then. A house-mover. A glassblower. You spent two weeks stacking cargo onto ships, six months hanging paintings for a fraudulent art gallery. You invented things occasionally, but that was just the background noise of life.” “You’ve been keeping tabs on me.” Unzipping her leggings’ thigh pocket, Mephy pulled a phone out and handed it to me. It was my own, drowning beneath another wave of photographs. “We all have our favorites,” she said. “Besides, who do you think curates all those app notifications? Dad and I are like, the only demons who even own computers.” She leaned in, wafting notes of lavender shampoo. “But nevermind all that. Tell me about your ending, Jase. Endings are my favorite part. What have you been up to, since you felt yourself begin to die?” I went still. I thought about that snail. “I, uh…” She was quiet. She gave me time. Abstract shadows revolved around us, sometimes smearing into Rothko scenes. “I wander,” I said finally. “I hop trains and hike forgotten trails. I sleep rough when I have to, and I starve until the starving times are through.” I shrugged. “There’s something deeply human about that kind of suffering. With the time that I had left in me, it felt like what I had to do.” Shaking my head, I took a long, hot drink of tea. I offered the last sip to Mephy and she took it, Klimt eyes gleaming. “That’s good,” she said with obvious relish. “That was my last ten dollars.” “Was it worth it?” “Damnation, or the tea?” “You pick.” I paused. Some small piece of me slithered from its shell to take cautious sips of the night, and of my demon’s perfume. “Yeah,” I said, smiling. “It was. You know, I built that thermos myself. A cup of tea will keep its temperature for a whole day before it even starts to cool, and the flavors will remain in balance. Cardamom and cinnamon, sweet sugar and the warmth of cloves. Close that lid and time will stop. The world could end all around you, but if you started with the proper product, you’d still have a perfect cup of tea"

“Time stops, hmmm?” Mephy said. “Why, Jase! It almost sounds like you’re afraid of me.” Then she blinked, and again, the world blinked with her. Soft colors bled in from the edges, and I glimpsed a dim processional of lamplights, marching off between the tangled trees. In a moment, we were back on Earth again. “Huh?” I said intelligently. “You know, Jase,” Mephy was saying, “you could have made yourself a god. I’ve seen it happen a thousand times before; every generation must have its Rhodes, or Hitler. Even for us demons, the bloodshed gets a little…stale.” She held my thermos up, swirling the fragrant lees. “But this? This is new. No soul I’ve ever purchased has tried to live so quietly before. Your presentation’s rather drab—you might think about a few fun patterns—but wow. If this thing’s just as good with iced chais, I’ll take one in every color.” “Mephy,” I said. “What are you—” She pressed a finger to my lips. “Shush, you. It’s only a new lease on life. In ten years, I expect to meet you back exactly here. Bring fun patterns. Maybe dream up a new snack. This form really likes to snack.” I nodded, stupefied, and Mephy tapped a hot pink nail against our original contract. The jagged names we’d carved into the old bench blackened, burned, and when I was finally able to uncover my eyes I saw them twined about each other like two snakes, surrounded, not by some school-kid heart, but by a perfect pentagram. She turned and kissed my cheek. “I’m a demon, Jase. I’m allowed to alter deals. Just keep working on the little things. Don’t you dare touch cancer, but we can compromise on snacks and tea.” Then she was gone, jogging off into the moonlight with Cerberus behind her. The dog’s third head jerked and gouted blood, painting Rorschach curls over the dark depressions in the ground. I followed them into the abstraction I’d once called the future, consumed by all the possibilities I hadn’t fit into the last ten years.