deals with the devil

Don’t ask me what you have to do in life to get to the point where summoning the devil even seems like a feasible option. Maybe you’re reading this because you think that you’re at that point, but I’m here to tell you that you aren’t. You aren’t even in the same solar system as being at that point. Whatever you’re going through can probably be solved by going out and getting shit faced and forgetting about all of your problems.

Now you’re thinking, “Yeah, okay, so? I’m still waiting for you to tell me how YOU ended up in this situation.” and to that I would like to point you back to the very first sentence you read. Maybe I’m just trying to get you to work that creative muscle and imagine what one has to do to get to where I was. You might be thinking that I wanted to make a deal with him and sign my life away just so I can live the rest of my life in luxury (stupid idea, stop thinking that). Maybe you’re on Google right now searching up ‘why would somebody summon the devil’. That won’t give you the answer, either, and doing that might provide you with some links on how to also summon the devil, so actually maybe don’t do that. 

Now that we’re through wondering what I did to get to my lowest point, know that it was a big mistake. A mistake worse than accidentally sending that text where you talk about how much you hate your boss TO your boss (sorry about losing your job, maybe it was for the best since you hated your boss so much). That moment when you sent it, though, I bet your heart dropped and splashed into your stomach. 

Imagine that feeling but way, way worse. 

Because when I summoned the devil it wasn’t some demon with one of those pointy goatees and goat legs.

It was my dad. 

And that brings us to the moment where I’m staring at my dad in the middle of this ridiculous summoning circle that I didn’t even think would work. I mean, I bought most of the supplies on Amazon when I’m pretty positive that you’re supposed to go out and forage for them. Thinking about it now, though, Amazon probably has a pretty close business relationship to the devil… Er, my dad. 

Now you’re surely wondering what the very first words to come out of my mouth were now that the devil-appearing-to-be-my-father was standing in front of me. Now that you know that I loathed my dad and could have said any cool combination of hateful words, or even something nonchalant to show that I wasn’t even fazed by it. I didn’t. 

In the most pathetic voice you could ever imagine, I said: “Daddy?”

When I was 8 my father left us in the most cliche way that any father leaves. He went out to run one errand or another, and never came home. Unfortunately I was old enough to understand what had happened, my mother depressed enough to let it get to her, and our peers mean enough to gossip about it. The kids at school would make comments about how unlovable I was. That even my dad didn't want me. I didn't blame them. What had happened to me was basically gold for any bully. Instead I redirected my anger to my father and let it simmer and boil beneath my skin for years. It was his fault that my mom was sad, his fault that other kids treated me like a social pariah, and his fault that when he pops back up into my life that I falter and revert back into that small, chubby, and mildly adorable child I was when he left.

The fact that the actual word ‘daddy’ just came out of my mouth was probably some sad inner child version of me bursting forth. Like all of the anger I had been holding in faded away like steam. When I said it, though, his mouth formed a thin line. I swear he looked almost regretful. It also didn’t look like he was going to say anything anytime soon, so I supposed that I had to take control of the conversation. 

And by take control of the conversation I definitely ended up crying like a baby and asking him why he left us and why I had to grow up without a father, but also that I sort of understood because now that I knew he was the devil he was probably a pretty busy guy that didn’t have any time for family. 

He stood there completely silent the entire time, listening to every word I was saying. At some points he even nodded along, as if to say, “Oh yes Katy that’s a really great point.” You expect the devil to be a lot of things, an active listener not one of them– but he was. Maybe you’re thinking that I accepted this situation way too quickly, but I want to see you summon the devil only to find out he’s your father and see how you handle it. 

Anyway, at the end of my ramblings he looked me dead in the eyes and apologized. A real, sincere apology. He said that it was a long story, and he wished he could have been a better father, but that he figured my life would be better without him, being that he’s the devil and all. 

And then we hugged and said our goodbyes, because he was probably getting summoned somewhere else (hopefully not by you, because I already told you paragraphs ago that it was a bad idea). 

In the end I guess it wasn’t such a mistake, though. I got to repair my relationship with my absent father. It didn’t bother me probably as much as it should have that he was the devil. I wasn’t exactly a saint, so who was I to judge? But even though summoning the devil wasn’t a mistake for me, it still doesn’t mean that you should do it, and you especially shouldn’t do it this Thursday at 6 because we have father-daughter dinner plans.