* * * * *
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).
Then Fazire would explain to them what homemade blueberry muffins, fresh from the oven and slathered in real butter, tasted like. He also went into great detail about what he received in his stocking. And he could wax poetic about a grand slam home run for more than fifteen minutes.
When he told them these stories, his genie friends got a little quieter when they were making fun. Then they got jealous. Then the settled in and couldn’t wait for Fazire to channel to tell them what he was up to next.
And Fazire was always up to something, usually with Becky.
Fazire leaned to his left and picked up the dripping wet, sweating glass of sweet, grape-flavoured Kool-Aid, his most favourite human drink – that was to say, in the summer, he loved Becky’s hot chocolate with marshmallow fluff melting on top in the winter. He slurped a big swallow out of the cool glass and spied Becky walking down to him.
She was round and jolly, just like him, and very tall. She was also very lovely with pretty green eyes and her mother’s white-gold hair. Fazire, although he would not admit this out loud to
anyone
, genie or human, thought of her a little bit like
his
child. He had helped to raise her in a way, if getting her into trouble and coaxing her to do naughty things was raising her which Fazire preferred to think it was.
Now she was a part-time photographer (she’d won a few awards and she’d even taught Fazire how to take photos) and she was married to Will Jacobs who thought the sun rose and set in her.
Fazire liked Will. Will had moved in with them rather than taking Becky away from them and Fazire approved of this. He found he very much liked having lots of people around the house and lots of conversation and more food on the table. Will was a bit intense but only in the best ways. He loved deeper, thought harder and cared more for people than, well, almost than Sarah and Becky did. He also could hold a pretty mean grudge so Fazire tried to stay on his good side.
And he knew what Fazire was and he didn’t mind a bit.
And, lastly, he liked baseball.
Yes, Will was okay in Fazire’s Book and Fazire did, indeed, have a book.
Becky waved at Fazire and then collapsed into the grass beside him. She was barefoot and wore a pretty dress. She smiled such a quirky, sweet smile it almost took your breath away. She also liked the sun, just like Fazire, and they used to spend hours outside in the summers baking away.
“Good day, Mistress Becky,” Fazire greeted cheekily.
“Quit calling me that,” she said but it wasn’t in a nasty way. In fact, she had a smile in her voice. He only called her that because it annoyed her and she was very easy to annoy. And sometimes when she was done being annoyed, it made her smile or giggle and even Fazire’s best wish granted was nothing to one of Becky’s smiles or giggles.
She
was
his mistress though and he tried to explain this to her so often, he lost count.
“You’re getting brown,” she observed, looking down at Fazire’s nicely tanned, suntan-oil-slicked, very-rounded body exposed by the swimming trunks.
“Do you want to go swimming?” he asked hopefully. He and Becky had gone swimming in the pond more times than he could remember. And today, such a hot day, he felt it was the perfect idea.
She turned on her side and shook her head. He noticed for the first time something was on her mind.
He threw aside his sun reflecting mirror and turned on his side too.
When Becky had something on her mind, Fazire was always there to listen.
He didn’t say a word. He just waited.
“Fazire…” she began and then looked away, “I’m scared even to ask,” she whispered.
“You can ask me anything, Becky.” And it was true. He didn’t know much and she’d figured that out years ago, considering she was very clever and she realised he spent most of his existence living in a double-decker bottle, but he would do his best.
She nodded and looked back at him, her green eyes warm but, indeed, frightened.
“Will and I have been trying to have a baby for years.”
“I know,” Fazire nodded sagely, she’d talked to him about this before. She talked to Sarah about it too. She’d tried and tried to have a baby but each time she tried, she lost it. Sometimes this was painful, sometimes she would bleed. A lot. Sometimes, no, actually every time, this was very scary for Will and Sarah
and
Fazire.
Losing a baby always made her sad and it was worse and worse every time.
“I want to have a baby,” she said in a rush, almost as if she was afraid of the words, afraid to hope,
to wish.
“I won’t be greedy, just one. I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl. It doesn’t even have to be perfect, just someone to love, someone that Will and I made, someone –”
Fazire went quite still.
All these years…
“Are you asking for a wish, Becky?”
She looked at him carefully, silently then she nodded.
He couldn’t believe it, after all these many, many years. She was older than most women who had babies these days but this,
this
was a wish he could grant.
He smiled at her and he reached out and touched her belly.
He looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Your wish is my command.”
* * * * *