I started my mission for Malekai’s benefit. I wasn’t worried about me at the time. Three years later I held a tiny infant in my arms and watched his little lungs fail. Malekai died despite exhausting all of my significant funds and following even a hint of a lead. We got nowhere. Malekai gave up long before the end, but I packed him around because I couldn’t bear to let him die alone. I used to think no one should die alone. I fed him and took care of him, changed his diapers (despite the wise cracks and grumpy tone) and generally tried to help him keep a positive outlook.
After he died, something snapped inside of me. I was sixty-six. Paul turned seventy-six, and Jake would hit the big 3-0 soon. I couldn’t do this to them. By this point, most of my grandkids and kids alike shied away from me. I was abnormal, a few probably thought I was evil. We concocted a story that Grandma Zelda had moved to a primary care facility that didn’t allow visitors because of my condition and no one questioned it. My only contact was with Jake, Paul, and Rosa’s brood who called me angel-touched.
Even with their acceptance, it still felt wrong to just show up. How could I, looking like a middle-aged woman and de-aging more every year? This wasn’t quite what I imagined when I pictured extra time. The one positive was that I was now young enough to pretend to be someone else and still see my family occasionally.
Jake and I celebrated our thirty-eighth birthdays together one month after attending my own funeral. He pretended I was a friend from college and I got to play with my great grandkids for the first time. Jake’s wife, Valentina, wasn’t as high maintenance as I’d judged her, and her deep love of my Jake endeared me to her quickly. Sadly, she didn’t know the secret, and for a few dangerous years, I tasted a tense jealousy in the air whenever I was around.
“Who are you again?” she asked, eyes slitting enough to explain her meaning.
“Just a friend. Don’t worry, I think you’re perfect for him, and you’re a great mother.”
She preened a bit but didn’t seem mollified.
Soon after, Rosa was diagnosed with stage four cancer. She was so young! Only eighty-one. I showed up at the funeral, sobbed my eyes out, and ignored everyone’s questions about who I was and what Rosa had meant to me. Jake and Paul sat on either side of me and held me while I cried. Valentina watched from the other side, eyes on me more than on the eulogy.
Paul was the next to pass away at the ripe old age of ninety-one. The irony of that hit me right between the eyes when Jake’s shaky voice called. This time we held each other and sobbed. Valentina watched with pursed lips. I could see she felt frustrated that she wasn’t the one he turned to in his moment of pain, so Jake and I took her aside once the funeral finished. I looked to be eleven now, but she’d pieced together that I was somehow related to the thirty-five and twenty-year old that showed up at important family events. Like Paul’s initial reaction, she didn’t believe us and I think it caused a rift in their marriage. After that I tried to stay away.
The rest of my kids passed in quick succession, accidents, heart attacks and another bout of quick-moving cancer that tore my heart apart and left my eyes a permeant swollen red for a year. When my last, Bartholomew, took a turn for the worst, it was Valentina who arrived at the hospital first and held me while I sobbed. I think she finally believed, and I could see the guarded fear in her eyes as she watched me.
By the time I turned eight, I was in full panic. I’d followed Malekai’s footsteps all over the world. I’d paid bribes and lived in cesspits trying to seek out information. I didn’t want to die like this. This was not what I’d intended when I made my wish.
The day of my eighth birthday, I woke with a gnawing, raw pain in my gut. I reminded myself an awful lot of Malekai at this point. Dejected, out of options and hope. I hadn’t found the devil, and God didn’t seem to want to answer. Maybe I’d offended them both by drinking down the fountain’s gift.
I filled the day with mundane chores, trying to ignore my growing unease. When night came, I turned to cooking a three-course meal as a distraction. I’d just sat down when the lock on my front door wiggled. Jake tossed his keys on the newish oak table. “Hey Z, smells delicious. Did you reach the spices okay?”
“Oh, ha, so funny.” I stuck out my tongue and went back to my meal.
“Grandma, I’ve got a bit of news, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up, given how long we’ve been working on this.”
I studied his greying brows and the slices of grey along the sides of his head. He looked distinguished and exactly like what he was: a successful businessman with a great family. “Jake, don’t waste any more time with me.”
“It’s not a waste, grandma.”
I sighed and tried to force a smile in place. I let my pigtails bob as I scooted sideways to make room for him on the bench. “What did you find?”
He held out a small business card. “I did a deal with this guy a few weeks ago.” He held up a hand before I could say a word. “It was a legit deal! Anyway, something just felt off about him, so I had one of my guys do a little digging. Turns out, he also deals in the occult.”
“We’ve tried that market.” I shoved in the last bite and slid from my chair, dropping to the floor. I wasn’t exactly thrilled being back to this size, and eating was buckets of fun now that my dentures no longer fit. “So, you want me to talk to him?”
“Are you kidding?” He gave me that look, the one reserved for his kids when they said something absolutely preposterous.
“Are you going to do it?” I snorted and slapped a hand over the top of the business card. “Thanks for thinking of me, Jake, but let’s just enjoy the next three years without stressing about the rest. I think I need to accept what’s coming.”
Ah, more regrets and blatant lies. That’s just what I needed at the age of eight. I could only imagine the tears my Jake would shed as he held my failing, infantile body in his hands and watched me suffocate. No way was I going to sit around waiting for that to happen.
Jake frowned at me. “Grandma, Z, I did this to you. Do you honestly think I’d be okay just living my life if there’s even one small chance that I can fix it?”
I patted his hand, my tiny one looking pathetically small next to his. “Jake, I would have died long ago without your gift. It’s enough. This is enough. I’ve seen you grow. I’ve seen your children grow. Samantha is a true beauty, and she’s about to start that fragile age when she needs her daddy’s attention. Now is the moment when your focus must be on your family.”
“That’s good, because Valentina doesn’t like the idea of you living alone anymore. You’re too young, and it’s not a safe world. She wants you to move in with us.”
I couldn’t help giggling and fell straight out of my chair. When I looked up, his expression was serious and disapproving of my mirth. I backtracked quickly. “Okay, okay. As long as I don’t have to go to school.”
Jake nodded, discussion settled. “We’ll prepare your room and I’ll come and help you pack if you need any help.”
I looked around my old home, filled with memories in both directions. I wasn’t ready to give it up. I wasn’t ready to die, not like that. There had to be another option. When the lights from his car slipped out of my driveway and turned up the street, I grabbed my keys and purse.
Despite the decades, my neighborhood remained one of those family-friendly places where people felt no concern in walking late at night. I passed several, but I must have looked determined in my mission because no one stopped me. I started on the green bus line, settling onto the bench with my feet dangling. As I waited, I stared down at my transfer ticket and double checked the route. I wasn’t the only kid on the bus, but I was the only one without a parent. Still, no one spoke to me.
When I stood and pulled the long cord, the driver glanced back and did a double take. “No way, kid.”
“No way, what?” I asked.
“No way you’re getting off in this part of town alone.”
“My dad works as a bouncer. Don’t worry, dude, I know how to handle myself.” I smiled warmly at him, deciding that next time I ventured into the dark center of the city I would do it without pigtails.
The bus driver gave me another appraising look. “I still don’t feel comfortable just letting you go.”
What could I do? I shrugged. “Thanks for your concern, sir. It means a lot that you thought about my safety, but I really will be alright.”
The bus slowed and stopped—I wasn’t the only passenger to exit—and he couldn’t do much to block me from getting off without causing himself a lot of potential problems. I could feel his eyes on me, so between stretches and pretended nonchalance, I waved until he pulled away.
“Skunk Hall.” I shook my head at Jake’s scratchy writing. The front of the glossy card sported the man’s day-profession while the back revealed his nightly activities. Taking a step in the right direction, I watched for the small signs that would point me toward the place I wanted.
When I finally found the “Skunk” I had to stop and gape. Once a grand hotel, the place looked like it should have been condemned. The windows in the upper floors were literally painted over. Several colors showed where layers had peeled away, replaced by the next. The concrete sidewalks out front had weathered to the point where there was no real ‘curb’ anymore, just a rounded, shredded slope from asphalt to walkway. Even the doors seemed like they wanted to give up the ghost but couldn’t.
And then there was the smell.
My nose wrinkled at the mix of tobacco and cigar. The sweet odor did not go well with the sour one, nor with the layer of marijuana and alcohol that floated like a miasma in the air around me. Broken bottles interspersed with broken men around the front entrance, and a solitary bouncer stood, arms folded, in front of the pathetic excuse for doors.
He met my gaze as soon as I came into view and his dark eyes just stared, daring me to take a step.
“Hello.” I smiled up at him, pigtails twirling. “Can I go inside and speak to the owner?”
“What?”
My first impression of the man wasn’t much. I wondered meanly if his name was Bruiser or something just as fitting. “I need to speak with the owner.” I glanced down at the card. “Rick?”
“He ain’t here.”
Bruiser was probably too smart a name. Box, maybe.
“Does he have a secretary, or someone else I can speak with?” I felt strangely anxious, despite all of the previous failures. “I really need to speak with him.”
One brow rose, and his mouth hung open in an ‘o’ of confusion.
I huffed. “Let me in. My uncle is in there.”
“Who’s your uncle?” Again with the brow and the ‘o’.
“Uh, Grant.”
“Grant?” The brow lowered just a little more. “I don’t know no Grant.”
“Well, he’s in there, and waiting for me, and it’s not really all that safe for a tiny girl like me to stand out on the street in a place like this, now is it, so you should open up the doors and let me inside so I can find my uncle.” I managed the entire thing in one breath and smiled in delight at its effect on the man’s slow mind.
Box let the words sink in, but I don’t think he had enough room. Instead, he opened the door and called inside. “Oy! Is there a Grant here tonight?”
Someone called something back, but music blared through the door much louder than the reply. I decided to take advantage of the situation.
“Oh, see there, he must have heard you.” Glad, for once, that I was tiny, I slipped past him. Box didn’t do anything to stop me, and since the door closed a minute later, he either forgot or decided I’d be fine inside the nightclub.
More smells cloyed at me from within. Body sweat, drinks, the heavy musk that happens when men and women gyrate together for long periods of time. Granted, it wasn’t far from other places I’d visited in the last seventeen years, but still. I made my way up to the bar and failed miserably in climbing into the seat the first time. The bartender leaned over the edge to stare down at me in surprise.
“Hi!” I chirped up at him. “I need to find the owner? Rick?”
“He’s not here tonight, little one, but who are you and how did you get in here?”
“I’m really in desperate need of seeing Rick, tonight. Is there any possible way he can be contacted? I have a business deal, but timing is, literally, going to be the death of me, so it needs to happen soon.”
He mulled this over, tossing a bar towel over one shoulder. “You don’t talk like a kid.”
“I’m horizontally challenged, now get me Rick.” I hardened my tone and batted my eyes. “Please.”
Five minutes later I bounced on the hard sidewalk and glared at the street. Jerks.
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