ninanevermore

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"In the grand scheme of things, life on this warmish, marbled planet is wonderfully good. But, in the details, sometimes it just sucks - heartbreakingly and seemingly relentlessly so. For no reason at all."
- Jill Carroll, in her Houston Chronicle column, Talking Tolerance, Jan 15 2010

I slipped out of the house this morning to pay a visit to my friend, Jim, who has had an extraordinarily busy week. Should you pass Jim on the street, you wouldn't think much of him. He's scrawny, scruffy and tattooed. He wears a dingy baseball cap so dirty you can't really tell what color it used to be, and he chain smokes cheap cigarettes. He operates what looks like a carnival ride – an enormous Ferris Wheel that represents the life spans of every human on the planet. If you walked by him you might step aside so as not to get too close to him simply because he doesn't look like the kind of man respectable people want to be seen with. You might find him distasteful, but nothing about him would make you think you had just seen the Angel of Death.

That's who he is, though.

"Hey, baby girl. Why you been such a stranger lately? I been wondering what happened to you."

"Sorry about that. Still looking for work. It kind of leaves me psychologically drained at the end of the day."

"I get that. But you didn't even bring by a Christmas card. I figured you was just late getting 'em out, as usual, but you never dropped one off. You not send 'em out this year?"

I cringed. "Nah. Sorry. I sent them, I just didn't get a chance to drop yours off. It's not like you have a mailing address or anything."

"See, now that's too bad. I'ze kinda looking forward to your little note and all." He meant my Christmas newsletter, where I recount all the rotten things that happened in the last year that can be played for laughs. Some rotten things (like my brother-in-law's suicide) aren't funny and have to be left out, so it's not a newsletter at all in the truest sense. More like a parody of a newsletter.

"I can print out a copy of newsletter and bring it by, if you still want it. I hope that's not what put you in such a bad mood that you stopped the ride for all those people in Haiti."

"Girl, I ain't that petty. You know me better'n that. Wasn't my doing, anyhow. Once in awhile Fate goes on a binge and all it does is make my workload more than it oughta be. That woman never cleans up her own messes, let me tell you. She and Luck – I don't think you've met Luck, have you? – got drunk and one of them said, 'Let's find a place and paint it red.' And when those two gals decide to pain a town, or an island, red, blood the only paint they ever use. I'm still working overtime because of their little party, and will be for awhile yet."

"Wow," I said. "So Luck, like Fate, she's a lady?"

"Now, I wouldn't call her that," he drawled. He took a drag on his cigarette and flashed a smile at me.

One thing about Jim that takes you by surprise is his smile. Looking at him, you wouldn't expect him to have that many teeth left. He just doesn't look like a guy who cares to brush and floss all that much. And since he chain smokes, you would figure that what teeth he has would be dingy and yellow. But his teeth are perfect and pearly white. They are one of the two visual clues on his person that tells you he is not what he appears to be. The other is his tattoos, which change every time you see him. By "see," I mean, "look at," not visit with. They will change right before your eyes if you stair at them long enough. I try not to, because it seems rude and my mama raised me better than that. Sometimes I can't help myself, though.

"So, have you two dated, too?" I asked. Death and Fate have an on-again-off-again thing going. I learned about this when I saw them making out one day and he introduced me to her. She's beautiful and charming, but you also sense that she's very dangerous. With Jim, nothing is personal. With Fate, I'm not so sure that's the case. She stuck me as someone with a dark and capricious sense of humor.

He shook his head. "Me and Luck? No way. I got standard. Fate can be true to you, at least for a little while, but Luck will hook up with anyone and then drop them just as fast. She's too flighty for my tastes."

I gazed at the Ferris Wheel as it turned, slowly, slowly, slowly, and people jumped off as their cars passed by the ground. Old folks, young folks, dust-covered children, mother's carrying babies and toddlers.

"So, no pact with the devil, no sins greater than anyone else's, no reason at all beyond Luck and Fate going on a drinking binge and wrecking havoc?"

"That's it, baby girl. Same as it's always been. Same as it was with Pompeii all those years ago, and China and Burma more recently. Those two like to party, and they like other people to pick up their bills. All of us, we don't get bogged down in the details that devastate you all so much. We've been around since the beginning of Time, and we'll be around after Time throws in the towel and retires. Y'all just know this life, and anything that impacts it or threatens it seems personal to you. It ain't. It just is."

"So there's nothing we can do?"

"To make this stuff not happen? Not a damned thing. But y'all have a way of coming through and helping each other out when you set your minds to it. The rest of 'em, Fate and Luck and War, they don't get as close to y'all as I do. They don't see all the little things that surprise me year after year, century after century, so they don't give a rat's ass what happens to y'all. But I honestly like y'all. I like the way y'all send food and help and work for each other when you set your minds to it. It's like you're all telling Fate and Luck to go to hell. Since they don't care about y'all, it don't bother them none when you do. But I got to tell you, it tickles me pink to see it. Not to mention it lightens my work load just a bit, and I never one to complain about that."

He paused and took inhaled again on his cigarette. "Go ahead and bring me by that newsletter, though. I'd like that."

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