Nemesis - 8. Chapter 8: Death Wins a Thai Game

Death Wins a Thai Game

The maître d’ at the Thai restaurant seated the two young gentlemen and their elderly woman companion, and then beckoned the waiter.

“It’s so sweet of you boys to take your poor old grandmother to lunch,” Dike said, after she had ordered.

Mars snorted. “Cut the crap, Dike. I’ve got battles to attend. There are insurgents in Afghanistan and Yemen; Muslim fundamentalists in Iran and Yemen; drug smugglers in Mexico and Yemen, and gangs in Chicago. And in Yemen. This era has more fighting than the American Civil War, much more than World War II. They are on the verge of losing World War III, and they don’t even know it.”

Death tried, successfully, to hide his disapproval of Mars’ apparent delight in dying, whether slowly through cocaine, heroin, and meth or more quickly and brutally through suicide bombers, improvised explosive devices, bullets, and drone missiles.

“You can move in time as easily as I do,” Death said. “You won’t miss anything.

“I’ll have the tea rose appetizer and then the green curry, please.” This, he addressed to the waiter.

“Okay, Dike, you called this meeting. What do you want?” Mars asked. His face was redder than usual: he had ordered the hot curry with sesame seeds.

“On the battlefield in Afghanistan you two reached an agreement about Garreth Walters. I have known that. However, he is mine, now. I want to know what was agreed,” Dike said.

“None of your business,” Mars said. Death was silent.

Dike looked at Death. Her appearance didn’t change, but her eyes and voice switched from grandmother to elder goddess. “You will tell me, even if Mars doesn’t. Don’t think of defying me,” she said. “Remember that you were once mortal. You are not an elder god; you are—”

Death interrupted. “I know what I am. I’ve figured out that you and Mars are two of the few original gods who are left.

“Still,” he continued, “I didn’t ask for this job. That’s got to count for something.”

Dike’s eyes and voice changed back to grandmother. She smiled, and then patted Death’s hand. “I know,” she said. “I know that you are not free to speak of this. I would not ask you to break an oath. But I do ask you to deal with the recalcitrance of Mars.”

Death nodded to Dike, and then looked at Mars.

“We had a battle once,” Death said. “You lost. It was not I, but one of my predecessors. Perhaps that is why Death is renewed; so that we have the energy to stand up to the ennui—and the hubris, of the old gods. Hmmm?”

Mars scraped his plate before answering.

“Damn it, Death,” he said. “Tell her.”

Death

I finished my lunch and closed the plate by placing the knife and fork close together with less than an inch of each hanging over the side of the plate: the signal to the waiter that he might remove the plate. The waiter understood; he was of the older generation of waiters, and not one of the youngsters who demanded the dignity of being called “service staff,” but whose standard, crude question, “Are you still workin’ on that?” was the sign of the times, and of the degeneration of its manners.

“Garreth Walters almost died on the battlefield,” I said. “I was waiting to take his soul when two things happened. A medic reached him, stopped his bleeding, and started an IV. The medic also pleaded—to whom he didn’t specify—pleaded for his own sake and for the sake of Garreth that he not lose another injured soldier. That slowed me long enough for Mars to arrive.

“He said, This one has work to do; leave him, please. It was the first time he’d ever said anything pleasant to me; the first time he had asked me for something. The last time, too, so far.

“I agreed. And have regretted it ever since. I cannot imagine Garreth having work to do for Mars that would be anything but … I won’t say evil, for I know Mars is amoral and not to be judged by the rules of my early Roman Catholic upbringing. Still, I cannot believe that any good will come of it.”

Dike and Mars looked at one another. Her lips were pursed and she shook her head. “Mars?” she asked.

“I promised nothing,” Mars said. “There was no deal. Here … ” he threw a handful of $20 bills onto the table. “My amorality won’t let me cheat the waiter.”

He turned and stormed out of the restaurant.

Stormed, thought both Death and Dike, and watched clouds gather over Lake Michigan.

Nemesis

I woke up the next morning when Gary got out of bed. He never sleeps late, but doesn’t mind if I do. He says that kids need more sleep than adults. After years of drunken, broken sleep, I was happy to agree with him.

Last night was awesome. No, we didn’t do sex stuff. As I said, it was a night for love. We cuddled closely. I breathed Gary’s breath, and he breathed mine. He held me tightly against his chest. I never had sex with anyone who I truly loved. It had always been … I can’t say casual, because there was nothing casual about it. It was usually fast, dirty, and animalistic at best. So, on a scale of one to wonderful, last night was the best night I’d ever spent, and it was way better than any sex I’d ever had. Yeah. Way better.

Gary pulled the covers over me, and kissed my cheek. I was asleep before he left the room. It’s good to be a 12-year-old!

I finally woke up, dressed, and went downstairs. And then freaked when I got to the kitchen and found Gary and Death having coffee. I think Death sensed that. Sensed that I was freaked, that is.

“This is a social call, Nemesis. Please don’t be afraid,” he said.

I just nodded my head like a little bobble-head doll. I didn’t realize how stupid I must have looked until drool started dripping onto my T-shirt.

Gary got up and poured orange juice for me. He hugged me when he handed me the glass. I was glad I was wearing briefs under my gym shorts; I thought about cuddling with Gary last night, and got really hard. I wanted a kiss, but I think both Gary and I both were kind of shy in front of Death. Then, Gary asked what I wanted for breakfast. I would have been happy with cereal, but after hearing Bobby’s story, Gary hadn’t bought cereal ever again. And, I knew he wouldn’t let me finish the pizza left over from last night’s supper. It was nearly lunchtime, anyway.

“Um, how about I make toasted cheese sandwiches … open face, with bacon? I could make a bunch at once … ?” I offered.

Gary agreed. I got out a cookie sheet, turned the broiler on, and started putting things together. My mother used to make these, I thought. With tomato soup. It was a winter Saturday lunch. I wondered where that memory had come from. Then, Gary brought me back to reality.

“Nemesis?” Gary said. “May I tell Death about yesterday?”

I froze until I realized that Gary was talking about the two men I’d killed, and not about me telling Gary that I loved him. At least, that’s what I heard from Gary.

“Yeah, sure, I guess,” I said. I tried to sound as if I didn’t care. I don’t think it worked. I listened to Gary and Death and watched the sandwiches in the broiler while Gary told about the man in the museum and about Benji and Jeffie’s father.

Gary

I was happy that Nemesis was willing for me to talk to Death about the two deaths, yesterday. I still wanted to challenge Dike on it, but … Death was, I guess, the expert and a good place to start.

“Why didn’t he see you, either time?” I asked, after recounting the stories.

“I do not attend every death,” he said. “Only those where there might be a question, those that are untimely, those that pique my interest. And I cannot tell you why one and not another falls in the last category. I can move in time—like Santa Clause must do in order to visit millions of children in a few hours. Still, I don’t always arrive at the instant of death.

“The death of the man behind the shopping center was untimely. If you remember, I arrived several minutes later.

“I was at the museum, too, but a few minutes after you left. I should have made a greater effort to be there. I’m sorry. His death was untimely.”

Nemesis

Death must have heard my gasp, for he added, “Even though it was untimely, it was right, Nemesis. His soul was dark. He had done great harm, before. Had he lived much longer, he would have killed an innocent, probably the boy he had grabbed.”

I felt much better. I put plates with bubbly cheese and bacon sandwiches in front of Death and Gary, and then brought one to the table for me. Gary passed around silverware and napkins from a basket on the table.

“I’m glad to hear that,” I said. “I’m really glad. I didn’t mean to kill him, but Gary said I did the right thing.”

“You didn’t mean to kill him?” Death asked.

“I didn’t even know my sword was there!” I said.

“I didn’t remember buckling it on. I was wearing school clothes, and not my chiton. Dike said it was okay not to wear it when I wasn’t on duty! But when the man tried to hit me with the baton, I heard my sword bang against the wall. I drew it. I blocked him. And he died … he died when the sword hit the baton and a spark went into him.”

Death thought for a minute. “Your sword came to you when you needed it.” He chuckled. “Not unlike the Sword of Griffindor in that movie.”

I must have looked puzzled, for Death added, “The Harry Potter movies? Don’t tell me … oh, I forget sometimes that you’re not really a little boy. Would you tell me how old … ?”

Something in my face stopped him, for he changed the subject, quickly.

“And last night?” Death asked. “When you killed the boys’ father. That was ordained—and right. He had murdered his younger son by driving him into the storm. He had driven his elder son away. Jeffrey’s death in the snow put a mark on Benji’s soul that will take years to erase, even with your help. Justice was served.”

“With our help?” Gary asked. “It will take years for Benji to heal, even with our help? Dike said we were his friends … I felt that she meant that he would become something more than a boy we rescued. But, years?”

Death nodded. “Um, hum,” he said. “She’s probably right.”

“How do you know?” I asked. “How does she know?”

Death seemed at a loss for words. He hesitated before he spoke. He looked at Gary and then me. He pursed his lips. When he did speak, he hesitated between thoughts. If was as if he weren’t sure he should be telling us this.

“Dike and others of the gods have the gift of foreknowledge,” Death said. “Not exact, and not always accurate, but usually close to correct. Over the centuries, we have lost the gift of the oracles; yet, each of us has, sometimes, feelings of prescience.

“Nemesis may, as well.”

The instant he finished speaking, Death stood. He thanked me for breakfast, and said that time-slip or no, he really needed to be going. He and Gary shook hands.

“Before you go?” I asked. “You said Santa Clause? Is he … is he real? Is he an elder god?”

Death smiled. “That, my young Nemesis, is for us adults to know, and you youngsters to figure out.”

Gary

After Death left, I hugged Nemesis. “You were very polite, this morning. It was nice of you to make lunch.

“But,” I said. “There was something … something not quite right. Something was bothering you. Will you tell me?”

Nemesis shrugged and walked to the sink where he’d put the dirty dishes.

“Nothing, no problem,” he said. He turned on the water and started rinsing stuff and putting it in the dishwasher.

I struggled to say what I had to say. “Nemesis? You said you loved me. I love you. Those are absolutes. There is no I love you more than, or I love you this much. There’s only, I love you.

“I know that you can hear what I’m thinking. That doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would, because I do love you, and I know you love me.

“I cannot hear what you are thinking or feel what you are feeling. However, I can tell when something’s bothering you. There was something about Death … something about his visit … that made you uncomfortable. It was more than having the avatar of death at the breakfast table.”

I won’t ask you to tell me because I love you and you love me, I thought as guardedly as I could. I hope you will decide that for yourself.

Nemesis put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and dried his hands.

Nemesis

It took about ten minutes and both the adult that I had been and the little boy that I now was to answer Gary’s unspoken question. “I was jealous,” I said. “I didn’t want you to have another friend! That’s so … so selfish!

“I said I loved you, but I didn’t want you to be happy!”

By this time I was crying. Gary scooped me up and held me tight. It’s my favorite hug when he picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, and he presses my head to his chest and puts his face in my hair. He’s so strong! I hope I never grow up! I want him to be able to hold me like this, always!