That reason does not know.”
Reasons I Do Not Know – Paris 2005
In a little café the television showed Muslims burning things and rioting in a street not too far from where I was sitting. It was an amazing mess the world was in but it would get worse before it would get better. It always had and it always would. Human Death was surely too busy to be keeping me company but still she appeared before me. Her now auburn hair fell just over her shoulders. Her smiled was pink this time not chapped from wind and weather but from nibbling on it out of worry, so I assumed. However I hadn’t a clue what the embodiment of Death had to fear. “You’ve got a tan. It looks good on you.”
Her smile still held me captive and though I should tell her how beautifully her hair falls into her face and how enchanting her eyes are when she smiles all I could do was mumbled a thank you and ‘your hair looks nice.’ She laughs at me and I sit there and blush feeling more like a school boy. I promised her it had sounded much better in my head as she tousled my hair then turned her attention to the television. “So much death leaved me with such little time…”
She takes a pregnant pause to sip her fancy coffee drink. I just stare at her having never heard her complain, really complain, about her job. This wasn’t my second or even third time meeting with her. Time wasn’t linear like people assumed. It happened all at once. Simultaneously. It could be manipulated and changed save for certain events which were fixed moments in time. We are experiencing the backlash of such an event as we sit in the café and watch the world pass us bye. When you have all of time at your finger tips it can be hard to not become jaded. You watch as tragedy takes over again, as most fixed points in time are disastrous events. I see it differently though. Yes, certain things must happen to make humanity aware of itself and its insatiable appetite. I don’t see the wrong in it but the beauty of learning from mistakes and a realization that we are human. In my case mostly human.
“They want me to become the next Elder Death. I am the oldest. I was here even before Elvin Death. I am Father’s first child. Now that he is gone they feel someone should take his place.” The air became thick between us. I was waiting for the other foot to drop but she just stared at the television with misty eyes. Probably lost in the thoughts of the man she considerer her father, the same man I considered my uncle. “Is that what you want?”
Death looked at me as if no one had asked her that question. It took me by surprised though I shouldn’t have been. Those old men though of nothing but the “greater good” and even Fae Death would have wished for it just for the idea that her friend would stick around a little longer. “Do I want to be the next Grim Reaper? Do I want to be the Horseman? Do I want to be the ultimate embodiment of death? Give up my post to serve as head of The Council of Deaths? No more than I wish to continue my post. Never have I felt old, even when I had watched millions die because of prejudice, even when I saw civilizations wiped out by enemies did I ever feel the weight that I feel today. I always had an elder to look up to. Father would comfort me in times like that, telling me to continue on my journey and one day I’d find out something that would make it worth my troubles. I understand what he meant now. Funny how I always assumed that things would make want to continue my post, give me renewed passion for it instead I find myself more tired than I’ve ever been.”
I couldn’t bring myself to ask what that thing was but I knew what she meant. I could feel it too. The draw, the connection. It had surpassed time. With a violent burst of inspiration I grabbed a napkin and pen and wrote all those thoughts I could never express. Emotion ran over like an over hormonal teen boy. She laughed at me as I wrote on four napkins to empty the thoughts in my head. Things were always clearer on paper. Well educated did not mean I could articulate my thoughts in any semblance of a sentence. I stacked the napkins and turned them face down and slid them over to her. All the things I could not voice aloud and even though that pull, that draw was so fierce I still couldn’t bring myself to see her reaction. “Please, save it till I’ve left.”
She smiled as I left. I peaked in the window as she flipped the notes over. Noticing me out of the corner of her eye she wagged her finger and I dashed off. Collecting myself I walked to my humble flat above a bakery. The warm, homely smell of fresh baked bread wafted into my apartment begging me to come hither. I don’t know why people always stay in grandiose places when the visit places like France. Opulent hotels and overpriced eateries were just tourist attractions and not the real face of the people. Maybe because I treated them with respect or maybe because I spoke the language they seemed to have taken a liking to me. Well mostly. The bakers’ teenage son and his friends liked to make fun of my fashion choices which was utterly my fault. I’d come here after coming back from World War II era London to have a nice chat with C.S. Lewis, in a tea shop though neither of us really enjoyed tea, still dressed in a utility suit, Homburg, and suspenders made me an easy target. At least I hadn’t been playing golf with the Ivy League this time. Plus fours really aren’t attractive.
Downstairs I bought a baguette as the baker and his son talked over bowels of soup. His wife was in the kitchen braiding bread. She told me to take a bowl of soup for myself. There’s no arguing with old Jewish women so I took a bowl and sat down for a heated discussion about which was better sour dough or challah. Evening came and the bakery closed and the baker and his wife retired for the evening. I rubbed the ring on my right hand before entering my apartment. It had brought me such joy in the last few years. I never could thank Elder Death enough for all he’d bestowed upon me. When I opened the door I found her on my bed. Black dress clung to her body and the folded napkins in between her index and middle finger. A bottle of red wine sat on a tray with a block of cheese that reeked of age and the baguette which I had just realized I forgotten. She stood up making me forget all my thoughts, “I never properly thanked you for being there for me after my Father died.”
Her hips swayed as she walked and once again my face was flushed and I felt like a young man. Her hand pressed down the collar of my shirt. My hands shook and my heart felt as if would jump from my chest as her lips met mine. It was if she was taking my soul. As if we’d been lovers for hundreds of years. The world outside was meaningless as we talked and fed each other. Talking led to more kissing and kissing led to… well, my memory gets a bit fuzzy after the second bottle of wine. When I woke up she was next to me, red curls on my chest. Clothes were strewn everywhere in blissful abandon. She mumbled and frowned, then smiled and rolled over. I traced her spinal cord and kissed the nape of her neck which I had learned was her weak spot as she had learned mine was my ears. Her voice was rough and sleepy which I found very attractive, “So, what time period were you thinking about next?”
She sounded miles away as if planning when we would meet next. I knew she only had so much energy and so much time. It was tiring and pushing her limits to meet me. I asked her where she would like to go and she turned over. Her hair had become darker auburn and from tight curls to lose waves. She laughed at me and told me I always surprised her. I told her to come with me. She was obviously unhappy with her life. She’d been at her post for so long now. If they were going to force their decision her then why doesn’t she just tell them she wants a break? Death smiled at me and asked what would she have me tell them? I smiled and whispered in her ear.
In the present era Human Death stood before the Council of Deaths. With a smug smile she told them that we she was leaving. They looked at her like the world was collapsing around them. Fae Death begged her to rethink her decision as the old men grumbled about the situation. They all knew her too well. This wasn’t spur of the moment she’d obviously been giving this thought for a while. Elvin Death who had been quiet asked her why she was leaving. Human Death was surprised he cared. With a warm smile she told them that sometimes the heart has reasons that reason will never understand. He simply nodded as if it explained everything. Fae Death begged again, tears streaming down her eyes but it did not sway Human Death. She pulled her away and bid them farewell promising to keep them updated.
When she came back to me there was color in her cheeks and a tint to her skin. Her hair had turned deep auburn that fell in waves around her shoulders. Lips were now naturally pink without having been chaffed by wind, weather, or worry. But her eyes were still as stormy as they smiled at me. She laid her hand on mine as we shared a meal looking out onto the streets of Copenhagen. Even though things had settled there was still something in her eyes that told me all was not well. When I asked her was what wrong her smile faltered and she looked away, “I’m pregnant.”
This work belongs to me please do not use without my permission.
