A short story for ceb

[ghoti_mhic_uait]

I was sitting at my kitchen countertop downing shots when my housemate came in from work. Leila took one look at me, another at the nearly empty bottle of rum in front of me, and sighed. “You should talk about it, you know.”
“Don't want to.”
“It'll do you good. Be therapeutic.”
“Don't want to.”
“Write it down then. It's always the same, you're always like this after one of those. Get it out of your system, and maybe you'll understand when it's on paper that today you helped someone, just like every day.”
“Don't want to.”

She took away the bottle, glared at me, spun on her heels and sent her long skirt swirling around her like a tiny storm, and left. That's how I come to be sitting here now, writing this down.

My heart sank as soon as I heard the customer's first wish. Over my years in the job, I'd learnt that the third wish is always the same, I knew it was coming - but some of them get there earlier than others.

I'd always wanted to be a genie, which is unusual in my experience. As a child, I'd hear stories, people sitting around, always a discussion of what to ask for, what do you really want? And the answers would fly, I'd like to be wealthy, I'd like to be healthy, I want a recording contract or a book contract or a good relationship or the secret of youth. No-one ever seemed to want to commit to three wishes, no-one ever knew: but I know.

I'd listen to the talk, and think of the joy of being a genie, the happiness gained by spreading happiness. I'd wish myself, for a future in which I could do that.

Years passed, and eventually I met a dreamer who'd heard from a friend of someone I'd liked, and so on, and eventually I met my mentor, Chuck. Chuck was ex-military, he'd done the standard route of putting off adulthood by going into the army, a place where he just had to follow orders and all his needs would be supplied. But Chuck learnt that he preferred peace to war, and he wanted to make right the wrongs, so he became a genie.

We've all got these stories – many genies are ex cons looking to repay society, or simply tired and wanting the world to be a better place. I've never met anyone else like me, nor have I, on observing the idle chatter of the world, ever seen a child who, on wondering what the genie's life is like, resolve on geniedom as their calling. I don't know whether they are more perspicacious than I, but on days like today, with this customer, I envy their normal mundane desires, their buses to drive and bins to empty.

“Good morning, sir, I'll be your genie for the near future. You have three wishes, please take your time to consider as wishes are irrevocable and non-transferable.” The usual patter, and one which normally no-one listens to, rather they stare in shock and awe and ask questions later.

This guy, though, he gazed at me thoughtfully through long black lashes and said “Non-transferable? So I have to use all three wishes or the wishes expire?”

“Yes sir. But you may take as long as you need with your wishes. Genies are gifted with long life and good health, and I will be here for you as long as you need me.”

He dropped his eyes again, played with his fingers, folded in his lap. I looked around; an antique shop, I'd been in plenty of those. This seemed fairly generic, the old toys smelling of childhoods long left behind, out of date maps and remnants of lives past. I wonder, not for the first time, whether it is just my habit of wishful thinking that leads me to scent a whisp of hope, of the idea that they could have new homes and new lives for new people, or whether the accumulated years have given these items, knick knacks and odd pieces, a personality and tangible history.

Suddenly, the man in front of me visibly starts. “I'm sorry,” he says “How terribly rude. I'm Jamie, it's nice to meet you. May I ask your name? Can I get you a cup of tea?”

That doesn't happen often. Normally my customers are startled, unprepared; but I think perhaps this man is ready for anything, surprised by nothing. “Jasmine. Tea would be delightful.” I sink into a beautifully carved dining chair, upholstered with roses and wait for him to proceed. I usually find that the more I listen, the more people talk.

I begin to get a bad feeling, as, instead of telling me about his life, babbling about how he could spend his wishes, he whistles as he boils the kettle, cleans two mugs and teaspoons. “No milk but two sugars” I say as he turns to me with one raised eyebrow. Maybe not the question on his lips, but he just nods, and brings me the tea.


This is not the usual customer, and I am not convinced that I know how to handle him. I wish I could call on Chuck for help, but Chuck retired to Hawaii and slowly aged and died a decade or so ago – I lose track of time now, but it feels like a heartbeat away.

Jamie moved towards the door, flipped a sign from open to closed, and turned the lock. “There. We can talk uninterrupted.” I nod, and he joins me at his desk – his own chair a plain olive bakelite, at a casual glance nothing special but I recognise its value.

“My family is a brother and a sister, no parents, no partner, no children. For my first wish, I wish them financial security.”

That's when I tasted it. Not only a lack of surprise, but a lack of all emotion. He has no aura, no despair or hope, no happiness or sadness, nothing. My heart sinks, but the rules say I don't interfere, I just grant the wish.

“Done.” “So quickly? Amazing.”


I sip my tea and wait patiently. I know I will not be here long.

“For my second wish, I wish them good health.”

When they ask for family security they don't need me long. The third wish is always the same. Sometimes it is decades in the waiting – health, wealth and a million different ways of finding happiness come in the first two wishes. But at the end, always the same.

This time there is a mere shadow of a pause. Not a thing he needs to consider, a wish he's been holding in his heart.
“For my third wish, I wish for a quick and painless death.”

Comments

[ceb.livejournal.com]

I was too busy cooking yesterday to make it to the internet, but thank you so much! This is an excellent story and you made it for me! <3

[ghoti.livejournal.com]

Hurray! Glad you like it.

[venta.livejournal.com]

What a great idea for a story! I really enjoyed reading that :-)

[badriya.livejournal.com]

I really enjoyed it too and thought it very good. You should write seriously.
You swept me along in the story so my questions were not asked but how do you get to be a genie, and how did they get the 3 wishes? I had 3 on a game once, from a wicked fairy called Maleficent. They are so twisty though, fairies who grant wishes. They somehow never give what you meant.

[ghoti_mhic_uait]

I do have an answer to that! To become a genie, the third wish is 'I wish to become a genie'. I did write that ending, but changed my mind back again.

[lnr]

This is lovely, but so sad.

[jane-somebody.livejournal.com]

Ooh, nicely done. Thank you for sharing!