A Martinez - Divine Misfortune

“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.