A Martinez - Divine Misfortune

“You wouldn’t know it to look at me,” said Syph, “but I was once the goddess of love. I brought only joy and hope to all around me, made the world a more beautiful place. Everything I touched was brightened by my presence, and my favor was coveted by king and peasant alike.

“But my influence didn’t end with mortals. I was courted by all the best gods. The most powerful of deities sought my company. There wasn’t a god I couldn’t seduce with merely a demure smile and a coy glance.”

Bonnie studied the colorless, icy goddess sitting across from her. It was hard to imagine.

“And I dated them all,” said Syph. “From the most insignificant mortal to the most powerful of the divine. I gleefully spread my joy across the heavens and Earth without care, and should have done so until the end of time.”

“So what happened?”

Syph sighed. The cloud came back, bigger and blacker than ever.

“I fell in love.”

Bonnie waited for further explanation, but Syph just sat there. She bit her lower lip as a single bloodred tear ran down her cheek.

“I don’t understand,” said Bonnie. “Shouldn’t that have been a good thing?”

Syph chortled. Or tried to. But all that came out of her tight throat was a strangled grunt.

“Would it serve a goddess of death to die herself? Or a goddess of war to see the world of mortals consumed in nuclear holocaust? The needs and welfare of gods doesn’t rely solely on a singular motivation.”

“Hadn’t thought of it like that,” admitted Bonnie.

“Few mortals do. You think it’s easy to be a god. But we are as fallible and foolish as mortals. Perhaps even more so, since our immortality often leads to boredom, and boredom leads to recklessness. And it’s easy to be reckless when immortality usually keeps us from having to deal with the consequences of our actions.” She laughed again, bitterly. The cloud rumbled, growing to cover half the sky.

“At first, it was wonderful. I, the goddess of love, had discovered love. Genuine love. My powers increased, and for a while, I thought I might even be able to usher in a new golden age in Heaven and Earth.”

“What happened?”

Syph lowered her head and mumbled into her shoulder.

“What?” asked Bonnie.

Syph pulled her hand away and studied her fingernails. “He dumped me.”

A rolling storm materialized over the Burger Town. People ran for cover as tiny heart-shaped pieces of hail rained down. Each piece shattered exactly in half upon impact.

“And?” asked Bonnie.

Syph looked Bonnie in the eye. “And what?”

“And what else? Something else must have happened to change you.”

“You still don’t understand, do you? I was dumped.”

“Hold it,” said Bonnie. “Don’t you gods and goddesses leap out of each other’s lives all the time? Don’t you have brief infatuations, followed by hollow relationships? You’re always cheating on each other, right?”

“Not always.”

“Uh-huh,” said Bonnie skeptically.

“Okay, so usually that is true. Although there are true and long-lasting marriages among the gods. Though not many, I’ll admit. Immortality and boredom are rarely healthy for a long-term relationship.”

“What’s the big deal then?” said Bonnie. “You got dumped. Business as usual among immortals, isn’t it?”

“No. Not business as usual. The right thing to do would have been to marry me. Even if he didn’t love me, he should’ve wanted to possess me only because I was desired by others. Or he could’ve waited until enough time passed that we would’ve naturally drifted apart. But he dumped me. Me. The goddess of love, rejected by her first true love. I was in my heyday, and he was only a minor god. But I chose him, despite the dozens of proposals from much more influential and desirable deities. Zeus himself was among my suitors.”

“You almost married Zeus?”

“Married? No, not married. Hera wouldn’t have been very happy about that. But he did offer to buy me a condo on Mount Olympus along with a generous allowance.”

Bonnie cracked a smile. “You’re telling me you were almost a kept goddess?”

“It was a very generous offer. I didn’t consider it. Not seriously. But it was nice to be asked.”

The storm dissolved. The sun beamed. As much as Bonnie hated to ruin the goddess’s mood and the weather, she still needed answers.

“Why don’t you tell me about this guy?”

She braced herself for the worst, but it wasn’t as bad as she expected. That small cloud covered the sun, and her remaining fries were suddenly covered in a fuzzy orange fungus.

“Why do you want to know?” asked Syph.

“Maybe because it will make you feel better to talk about it.” And when you feel better, Bonnie added to herself, I feel better.

She spent the remainder of her lunch hour listening to Syph reminisce about her lost love. When the memories were good, the sky was clear and the birds sang. When they were bad, those same birds would fall silent and car accidents would happen in the nearby intersection. Nobody was seriously hurt, though at one point a blind man had his foot run over. Bonnie felt bad about that, but she encouraged Syph to continue.

The not-party went until three in the morning, but Teri and Phil went to bed around midnight. They didn’t get much sleep, but she awoke refreshed to the smell of frying bacon.

Phil was in the shower.

“Honey, who’s cooking?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Lucky?”

She doubted that. He didn’t seem the type.

Phil was half-right. It wasn’t their new god but one of his friends. The giant rainbow serpent puttered around their kitchen.

“Hi, Teri. I hope you don’t mind. I borrowed a couple of bucks out of your wallet and found a twenty-four-hour market. Thought I’d whip up some of my special sun god omelets. Just my way of saying thanks for letting me crash on your couch last night.”

“Yeah,” she said. “No problem.”

“It’ll just be a minute,” Quick said. “I hope you like’ em spicy. I couldn’t find any reasonably priced human flesh, so I had to substitute ham.”

“Uh-huh,” said Teri as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

“That was a joke,” said Quick. “I realize it’s not always easy to tell with gods.”

“No, that’s fine. It was funny.” She forced a smile and took a sip.

“Loosen up, Teri. I promise I’m not going to swallow you whole. I’m not that kind of god anymore. Plus, you’re Lucky’s follower, and I wouldn’t do that to a friend.”

He smiled, and it was ingratiating. Surprising, considering sharp fangs filled his maw.

Phil, toweling dry his hair, appeared at her side. “Shower is ready. What smells so good?”

“Eggs à la sun god,” she said, “minus the human flesh.”

Quick chuckled.

Teri excused herself, but she heard the shower running. The door to Lucky’s room was open a crack. He must have been an early riser. She hadn’t seen him as that type. Raccoons were nocturnal. Then again, Quick was a giant serpent monster, and he didn’t eat people. Or so he claimed.

Teri went back to the dining room. Quick urged her and Phil to have a seat as he served them breakfast.

“What’s the verdict?” asked Quick.

“A little spicy,” said Phil, “but thank you. They’re good.”

“De nada. I’ll get some milk.” Quick slithered into the kitchen.

“Why is he still here?” asked Teri.

Phil shrugged. “Lucky said he’s in a rough spot right now.”

“When I agreed to this,” she said, “I agreed to one god. One.” She held up her index finger to illustrate the point.

“He’s not really our god,” replied Phil. “It’s not like we owe him any tribute. I don’t see what the big deal is.”