Icon of the Indecisive (13 page)

I say will because it hasn't happened.

The way mortals' stories of us are told, it's as if we did all our living in the past. Not true. The story is unfolding. If my brother has been told he will love, and he happens to take a ride with a woman on a chariot an age or so ago, that doesn't count. He sees, hears, smells, touches women many times in his many lives. It has changed nothing.

But once in a while, we are in the same place, and time, and want the same thing again - and someone like Diya provides an opportunity.

Let's make legends happen, my darlings.

Let's talk about the girl.

***

"Tell me about her," I say, turning to face him. My chair swivels along with me. Even my furniture doesn't resist.

"Who are you talking about?"

"The girl. She's pretty. Needs a polish, but she's pretty."

I can tell he wants to talk about her. But it's me, so he can't let his guard down.

"She is," he says.

"Do you like spending time with her?"

"I do."

"See, not so hard saying it after all. There's a boy here who entertains me. Darren. Definitely in my top ten of all time."

"It's not like that," he says, predictably, because he's like that.

"Oh of course. I'm sure you've barely even held her hand. It doesn't matter to her though. She is smitten."

"That's not what I'm here for."

"Because you're here for Diya too, aren't you?"

"A lot of us seem to be."

"You know who was here before you?"

"Tala, I know. She's been counseling Diya for some time."

How did he know that? How long had he—? Don't worry about it, it changes nothing. "You know what she told me?"

He pauses. "No."

"That's interesting."

This is how our first fight started, kind of. It is how most of our fights are. It is Father's cruel joke, the way we have to share everything, when we are obviously built for greed. Well, I am. Apo just thinks he isn't.

"So this is how it will be," I tell my brother, "I know what Diya wants, and I will tell her how to do it."

"You know I'll stop you."

"Oh I know you will. In fact, I was hoping you would. It might be fun for you."

The way the old stories would have it, the only way we could love is to give up immortality and trap ourselves in this form. Become plain, live in hiding, and one day join the earth. This of course is not the way to convince Apo to love; he will never do it.

But no doubt he entertained the thought of fundamentally changing something. He has been told it will happen. Not unexpected at all.

"There are two ways this can work. I get what I want, and poor little smitten girl answers to me."

The other way, which is already in his head as I speak, is that he makes it so that the girl will not, ever, be subject to me.

He can just tell her not to love him. The threat to her will disappear.

I am counting on him not to do it.

I am counting on him to remember the story from long ago, that he will love, that he will sweep some woman from mortality and make her one of us, that he will rule with her. That for whatever reason he leaves himself vulnerable to this garbage, because he is easier to defeat when he has something to lose.

"Don't hurt her," is what he says, before he leaves.

And that is how a tide is turned.

***

My third visitor arrives hours later. She arrives at night, my time. I accept her in the backyard, where we have a swimming pool, and iron lawn furniture painted white. It's quite peaceful in a quaint way.

I am allowed in the backyard, also, despite being grounded.

My third visitor surprised my "mother" upon arrival, because she isn't in a mortal form that would normally be seen with me. She appears decades older, dark skin glowing, her dress made of a single stretch of purple woven fabric, draped and knotted around her body, held up without a stitch. Her long hair hangs down to her waist, is unwashed, but smells of flowers.

"You've met her before," I insist to Mom.

"I absolutely have not," she says.

"Yes you have," I say, not joking.

As we speak Kata is just standing there, smiling. Maybe the floral scent rekindles an old memory, but my mother retreats into the house and lets my visitor stay.

"Why are you never younger? It's fun being this age," I tell her.

Kata shrugs. She always looks like this when she's here. It's nothing like her real face, but she maintains this anyway.

We sit silently as we wait for another guest to arrive. We know she will.

***

We never grow up, is the problem. Diya is the youngest, perpetually, and cannot catch up. Will never catch up. I don't understand what she wants and why she wants them, but I'm past the point of caring.

I want the power of love.

Diya, the youngest, was given the gift of love, which turns out binds most of creation and destruction. She hasn't done a good job handling it, as history has shown. She disappeared and people hardly noticed.

Of all of us, she is also the most consumed by mortal matters. She just adores them, feels for them. She is always first to suggest leaving immortality for love, but I've not missed the few stupid enough to have taken her up on it.

I don't see Diya often, but I can guess what she is about. That she showed up at all means I'm on the right track.

My mother has stopped answering the door, so I let Diya in. She looks... It's like she wishes she were at someone else's door.

"I'll help you do it," I say, before she begins whining. "I know how you can do it."

"I don't need help remaining human," she retorts, as if insulted. "I know how that's done."

"That's not what I mean," I tell her.

When Bathala divided the world among his children, everyone got something. We can debate the value of things (I was surprised at how love mattered more as time passed for example) but in the end it is all about power. Nothing is of little value, when added up.

What keeps Diya from shedding the immortal life entirely is her only remaining tie to our father — guilt. She can't give up immortality and its gift just yet, until she feels that she has done right by him.

I brought Kata over to tell her how it can be done.

"You're kidding me," Diya sounds skeptical, but the voice is hopeful enough.

"You never thought of asking for Kata's help before?"

Diya addresses Kata directly, "She has a habit of leaving some calls unanswered."

Kata rolls her eyes. "I am not like you. I don't need to prove anything to them."

Oh please. Children. "Diya, you see what can happen here."

I was hoping not to have to say it. I wanted her to see Kata, an agent of creation, there, and figure out that she can... create her solution.

"You don't mean to take it all?" she asks. "When I become human, you don't intend to just..."

It is tempting to her. She doesn't trust me, but Kata's presence makes her think I am not as greedy as she thought I would be. She doesn't want her gifts to be transferred upon her passing to any of us.

"I don't need it," I say. "What you want is for your precious mortals to get it all, right?"

"No offense," Diya tells me. "I just really don't trust you."

I'm not surprised.

"What you want to do is essentially creation of new gods. Not-quite gods," I say, unperturbed. "And if you're nice to Kata, perhaps she will let you have some."

"What do I need to do?"

Kata smiles. "Just dance, like everyone else does."

And she does.

All I'm doing is telling Diya what she wants to hear. Putting her through motions she expects to do. She thinks like they do now, the people who write about us. She thinks our stories are set in stone, and that she has rules to follow.

She wants to be human, take her place in humanity, and love like they do.

She doesn't think like Apo and I do. We make the rules.

When she and Kata are done with their gifted little creatures, I will wait, and watch, and take what is mine anyway. I want more.

It's been a most productive day.