Alone Time

“Arkonel, are you there?”  Ari asked.  He had been following her for the better part of the day, and it was almost time for Ari to go inside and eat dinner.  She hadn’t been talking out loud to herself, through her walk in the woods, the work in the barn, the feeding of the cats, and her meditation.   But Arkonel could tell that Ari had been deep in thought most of the day.  Out of respect for her, he had allowed her to keep her thoughts and emotions to herself.

Arkonel made a wise decision and chose not to say a word.  Frustrated, Ari spoke aloud again.

“Look, I was kind of freaked out all day today because of what you told me last night – about killing those six people.  I know it wasn’t your fault or anything.  And I know you weren’t trying to sleep with me.  I just have a question for you, and then you can keep being angry at me or whatever has kept you away all day.  Do you see me as a child?”

Ari was sitting on a turned over crate in the empty barn, sunlight streaming through the still coated-with-dust window at the top of the barn.  Her long, dark hair sparkled in the dusty sunlight, her eyes just about to brim over with unshed tears.  In torn jeans, a cowboy hat and a ‘wife-beater’ tank top, Ari looked far from the realms of a child.

“No.”  Arkonel said softly, appearing just behind her.  He closed the final distance to her as she turned around and he wrapped his arms around her, a gesture he had been replaying all day in his mind just to get it right.  “You are a beautiful, albeit young, woman, who I have loved to spend time with, whether or not you knew what I was.  I respect you – all of you – and would never take anything that you would not give freely to me.  I may be a god, but I still feel, and I still have a set of morals.”

Ari remained silent, relaxing into Arkonel’s arms.  He held her for what seemed like hours before she spoke.  “I’ve always thought of the gods like one thinks of the Christian angels – with no purpose except to serve their own purpose.  Like they didn’t care about us.  All of the myths detail a human getting screwed over.  Arachne, being turned into a spider.  Atlas, made to hold the world.”

“In the old days, a lot of the gods were arrogant and selfish, just like children who need to learn to share.”  Arkonel admitted.  “Do I seem selfish to you?  Arrogant?  Uncaring?”

“I don’t know.”  Ari thought the question over.  “Not really.”

“Okay, so I get a second chance?”  Arkonel asked as he squeezed her.  “You can always send me away.  For good.  I’ll go without question, but you will never, ever see me again.  I will be banished to taking care of the dead for the rest of your life.  And if I process you, I doubt you’ll remember me by then.”

“I don’t want to send you away.”  Ari reached up and put her hands on his.  “Though I have a question for you.  The same I asked last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How many women?  Am I just a conquest for you?”

“I don’t know.  And no, most definitely not.”

“You really can’t remember?”

“Many more than a human male could accomplish in a lifetime.”

“How many did you care about?”  Ari asked, squeezing his hands.

“None so much as you.”

“But you can’t have me.”

“Oh, really?”  Arkonel laughed, squeezed her again and kissed her cheek.  “We’ll see.  They may have been one night stands, but no one ever complained the next morning.  I learned from the best.”

“Who?”

“Well, I searched out Eros and Aphrodite on the dawn of my teenage hood, probably the 1800s.”  Arkonel said.  “But, don’t you need to eat?  I can tell you more of my adventures if you would like, while you’re eating.”

“How come you don’t eat?”  She asked him as he released her so she could get up.

“It bores you, after a while.  Same tastes.  But I can eat, just like you.  And best part, no indigestion.”

“Cool.”  Ari reached over and grabbed his hand as they walked towards the house.

“So…where do we stand?”  Arkonel asked her.  He reached to open the door and released her hand, realizing her mother was still sitting in the kitchen.

“On my kitchen floor.”  Ari retorted, walking into the house.  “Did you make anything for dinner, mom, or is it another pizza night?”

“Lasagna’s in the fridge.  I was wondering when you were going to wander in with lover boy, there.”

“That’s no way to speak to a God, mom!”  Ari said, walking around her mother to the refrigerator.

“He doesn’t mind.  Tell me, did you do anything useful today?”  Her mother was bent over a manuscript, armed with a cup of cappuccino and a light green highlighter.  The other colors – yellow, pink, blue and purple – lay as war casualties next to her arm.

“I worked out in the barn a little bit.  Meditated.  You know.  A nice, relaxing day.”

“How long did it take before you let him materialize again?”

“None of your business, mom.”  Ari sat down next to her.  “Which one is that?”

“Summer of Hell.  They wanted me to revise it a touch, and I didn’t like the way the editor tried to, so I told them I would do it myself.”

“Mail, email, or phone?”

“Mail.  Then I called.  What do they want from me?”

“A good masterpiece, like you always right.”

“Maybe one of you could give me a book to read while you sleep.  Its not like I do.”  Arkonel interrupted their conversation to suggest that.  “I’d love to read one of these masterpieces.”

“Mom doesn’t let people see her writing if she knows them.  That’s why she uses a pen name.”  Ari replied to him in between bites.  “It helps her keep her work and her personal life separate.”

“Not usually, but I may make an exception for him.  Then, at least, I can tell my editors that I let a deity read my work, and he loved it.”

“They’ll fire you for being crazy!”  Ari protested, laughing at her mother and nearly choking on her food.

“No, I’m an author.  Who brings them in a lot of money.  I’m allowed to have my quirks.”

“But mom…that’s like,  schizophrenia quirk.”

“Very true.  Maybe that’ll just be my personal accomplishment.  Not like I’d ever need to, but I could put it on a hypothetical resume.”  Her mom said, coloring on the piece of paper with a fury seen only once in a great while.  “I wonder if I was asleep while writing this.  Damn.  And revising it, too!”

“That was a rough draft you sent to them, remember?”  Ari pointed out.  “You got frustrated with it, ended it quickly, and sent it out.”

“Right.  I should have waited and proofread, at least.  Now I’m doing the copy editing because the editing was so bad it overlapped with the copy editing.”  Ari’s mom shook her head and continued to scribble.  “Sometimes I regret having you.  You’ve inherited my impatience.”

“I’m glad you had her.”  Arkonel said.  “She got me out of a worse punishment, just by being born.”

“Really?”  Ari’s mom looked up, interested.  “How exactly did you get here?”

“I was being punished for a mishap on Earth.  My father was going to send me to Hades to be his slave for the next hundred years or so, but gave me this option instead.”

“Cool.  This is punishment?”

“It would have been if I didn’t appear to you two.  Do you know how boring it is to watch a human and not interfere?”  Arkonel asked them.  He reached over to pick up a stray noodle of Ari’s that had fallen on the table.  “Its like being assigned to watch dirt.”

“We’re really that boring?”  Ari asked him, looking up.

“No.  Not you guys.  But a common, average American who just treads through their lives?  Think about it.  They wake up at six.  Maybe they run, read the paper, and then pull a nine to five job.  When they get home, they kiss their wives, eat dinner, read the paper, watch the television, and then go to bed. On the weekends, they either mow the grass or shop.  That’s about the extent of their lives.”

“Oh.  Well, still.  Not everyone is like that.”  Ari argued.

“You’d be surprised.  There are quite a few people just like that.”  Arkonel said.  “I should know, I’ve spent quite a bit of time observing the human race.”

“Yeah, just keep rubbing in the fact that you’re four hundred odd something years older than us.”  Ari said, finishing her lasagna.  “You can’t always draw the age card.”

“Well, I love watching humans.  You mature so much faster emotionally than we do.  It took me fifty years before I was able to feel and computer the way a teenage mortal was.  And I don’t know how long it will take me to get the amount of knowledge and wisdom that your dear mother has.  Lifetimes, probably.”

“Its kind of disconcerting that you’ll be alive many years after we pass.”

“Not to me.  I don’t value your lives any less because they’re shorter.  I – we gods – exist as catalysts, created as the ‘parents’ of humans.  We have our work cut out for us, just as you do.”

“So now you’re like a father to me?”  Ari asked him.  “Not really helping your case of ‘I value and treasure you as a woman’.”

“Ari, be nice.”  Her mother admonished her.  “He’s trying his best.”

“Okay, I’ll back off for now, but just because you’re in the room.”  Ari paused, then smiled cynically at Arkonel.  “You’d think a god would be less flustered by a simple mortal’s questions.”
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