Kristen Ashley: Three Wishes

He floated after her, repeating over and over again the many statements of introduction that he’d been taught in Genie Training School. She was ignoring him. So much so, hours later, she packed her bags, took the pretty child with her and got in her car and drove away.

Two Days Later

Sarah cautiously approached her pretty limestone house. It seemed quiet and normal.

She and Rebecca had stayed with her mother. Sarah had ranted and raved and even, somewhat to her horror but she couldn’t stop herself, blasphemed.

Then she’d cried, a whole day and a whole night.

And then she’d slept while her mother cared for her daughter.

And now she was home.

And her heart was broken.

Because she knew Jim would never be home.

And she decided that if Hitler wasn’t already dead, she’d hunt him down herself and wring his silly, little neck.

Invading Poland, what kind of a fool idea was that? Didn’t he know the trouble he’d cause? So many lives, destroyed. Entire families, gone.

And Jim, vital, strong, tall, clever, wonderful Jim. He’d never again play tennis like he was doing the first time she saw him. He’d never again turn the rich, dark soil in the garden. He’d never again present her with one of his luscious Indiana tomatoes. He’d never hold her in his arms. He’d never lay eyes on his beautiful daughter.

She had to blame someone so she blamed Hitler. He was, of course, to blame for a lot of things and Sarah was happy for her religion (even though she’d cursed God only the day before). She was happy for it because her religion meant she could visualise, quite happily, Hitler stretched over a charcoal pit, twisting on a rotisserie, roasting in agony for eternity.

Regardless of her vengeful thoughts, Sarah was still weary, immensely sad and forever and ever broken, such was her love for Jim.

But, she thought, she was no longer crazy enough to see genies floating around in her house.

She no sooner opened the door and got herself and her daughter inside when the genie floated forward and shouted somewhat peevishly, “Where have you been?”

She started and then whirled to go right back out the door again.

“No, don’t go! Just give me your three wishes then I’ll grant them and go back in the bottle.” She hesitated and the genie forged on. “That’s how it works. I go back in the bottle. You put the stopper on and then you give me away, or sell me or… whatever. It just can’t be to a member of your blood family or a friend and you can’t tell anyone what the bottle does. I have to go to someone you don’t know and they can’t know what I do. And you can never tell anyone I was here or a thousand curses will fall on your bloodline forever. Those are the rules.”

Sarah had never thought genies would have rules. She’d never thought genies existed at all.

No, she shook her head, she still didn’t think genies existed at all.

Fazire watched her and realised she was still not going to believe in him.

Tiredly, because usually his task took him about five minute, not days (people knew exactly what to wish for and didn’t dally about getting it), he said, “Just wish for something, I’ll show you what I can do.”

Sarah didn’t hesitate. “I want Jim back.”

Fazire’s levitated body came down a couple of feet as he saw the raw pain on her face.

Magically, of course, he knew exactly what she was wishing and he shook his head.

That , unfortunately, as well as world peace and the eradication of all disease, poverty, ignorance, bigotry (which was also just ignorance), pestilence, plague, yadda, yadda, yadda, he could not do.

Those were the rules. The Big Rules in the Genie Code that no one broke.

The Jim he could bring back, if he broke the rules, would be no kind of Jim she actually wanted back.

“I want Jim back!” she shouted when Fazire didn’t respond. “I wish for my Jim to come back! That’s what I wish. That’s all I wish… for Jim to come back.”

After she shouted at him, her voice half an ache, half a passionate scream, she collapsed to the floor and cradled her toddler in her arms, rocking the child back and forth as the pretty, little girl’s lips began to quiver with fear at her mother’s breakdown.

Fazire found himself floating lower to the floor (he didn’t like to float low and it had been years since his feet actually touched the earth, the very thought made him shiver with revulsion). Still, something about her forced Fazire to come close to her.

“Woman, I cannot do what you ask, your Jim is gone,” he told her gently, “I cannot bring him back. You must wish for something else.”

She shook her head mutely.

“Fame, maybe?”

More shaking of the head.

“Riches beyond your wildest dreams?”

Still she shook her head.

“Good health?” Fazire tried.

She simply shook her head, still holding her child carefully and rocking the toddler back and forth.

“I just want Jim.” Her voice was broken and Fazire was at a loss. He’d not come across this form of human before. Usually he just saw the greedy ones or ones who turned greedy and grasping and hateful the minute they realised they could have anything they desired.

This was an entirely new experience for Fazire.

He didn’t know what to do. He thought about going back to his bottle and channelling the Great Grand Genie Number One to ask but instead Fazire followed his instincts.

And, as the years slid by, there would be many a time when he thought he regretted this but in reality it was the best thing he ever did in his very long genie life.

He reached out and stroked her pretty white-gold hair.

He’d never touched a human in his hundreds and hundreds of years.

To his utter shock, she turned her face into his hand and rubbed her cheek against his palm.

“I miss him,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back even though he didn’t know as he’d never missed anyone but he could tell by the awful tone of her voice.

“I’ll give my wishes to Rebecca,” she said softly.

Fazire reared back an inch and stared at the small child.

“But she can barely talk!” Fazire objected.

Sarah stood up, let the child down to toddle off in some child direction with some unknown child intent in mind as, in horror, Fazire watched her go.

Then Sarah straightened, squared her shoulders and looked at Fazire.

“Well, I guess you’re going to be around for awhile,” she said quietly.

July Many Years Later

Fazire was sunning himself in the front yard holding the tri-panelled, cardboard-backed mirror Sarah got for him under his chin to get double sun access on his face. The golden rays were glinting happily off the pond and it was hotter than the hinges of hell and Fazire knew this to be true. He’d had a friend who visited one of his masters in hell and he’d described the excessive heat to Fazire during a channelling and humid Indiana heat in July sounded exactly like what his friend described.

He’d been there years and neither Sarah nor Becky had used a single wish nor had they shown any signs of doing this.

At first most of his genie friends thought this was hilarious, Fazire being stuck with a family in a small, farm town in Indiana, of all places, and they poked great fun at him.

Fazire, walking on the ground like mere mortals.

Fazire, wearing real clothes like humans did.

Fazire, eating blueberry muffins and strawberry shortcake just like people.

Fazire, getting a stocking filled with goodies at Christmas time.

Fazire, taking his young Rebecca on the bus to baseball games (Fazire liked… no, loved baseball and Becky absolutely lived for it).