Two Wrongs Make a Right

Jeff slumped down in the driver’s seat, slinging his head back.  He closed his eyes, opened his throat, and let out a soul-searching sigh.  He ran his hands through his hair that was weeks past needing a trim but was undoubtedly also thinning at the top.  He reluctantly turned the car on; it was quickly getting cold.  As he waited for the car to acclimate, Jeff began to question his faith, his persistence, his motivation to do what he does every day.  

Once home, he flopped his shoes off at the door and microwaved a healthy-ish frozen dinner in his new attempt at self-care, but still poured himself a liberal finger of scotch so he could fall asleep easier.  He still thought, as he forced himself to eat the vegetable medley, about Alan, his most frequent flier client.  The relapses.  The anger.  The empty syllables that Jeff had to try to make himself believe as much as he had to make Alan believe them, too.  Jeff paused his eating, set his fork down, closed his eyes.

“Dad, I really need your guidance here.  Please help me see the point in helping people that only want to live for their vices.  Please help me get through the 30 or so years until I can retire.  Help me understand why you had to be in that state, so I can know the right words and actions to help Alan.  Otherwise, I’m about ready to throw in the towel, and tell all of my clients that I don’t care if it’s a disease or if they are physically addicted, they can all go to hell.”

“I think I can make that happen.”

Jeff opened his eyes, choking and bringing a tart scotch and broccoli combination deep into his sinus cavities.  What he saw made him open and shut his eyes, rub his face, wiggle his toes in his holey socks, stomp his feet.  Surely he must have dozed off.  He shook his head, ran his hands across the back of his neck.  

“Wha—--you–” there was no denying how his new visitor entered his shabby condo.  It was the devil herself.  And she could do whatever she wanted. 

Jeff had always assumed the devil was male; most of the religious documents implied that, and Jeff realized a lot of the world’s problems were created by men, so the shoe seemed to fit.  But her eyelashes, painted talons, and purple sequined bikini said otherwise.   

Jeff’s breathing and heart rate immediately spiked with both amazement and concern.  He continued to utter gasps as his fish-like mouth opened and closed.  He was afraid to close his eyes, lest this apparition leave his presence, adding to the fish effect.  He suddenly noticed the temperature in his kitchen seemed at least 10 degrees hotter, or was that the adrenaline?

“You’re not dreaming, honey,” she told him, absentmindedly rubbing her pointed horns, as if she has had this conversation many times before.  “I heard your prayers.  Well, your dad did, anyway, and then he told me.”

“Wait, so-”

“Yep, he’s a resident of hell.”  She smiled.  “It’s been a fun couple of decades.  When you’re a druggie and you’ve relapsed so many times God can’t even keep track, had Narcan, therapy, rehab, all that jazz, sorry, It’s kind of a one way express ticket.  Well, no- actually that’s not true.  I’m not sorry.”  She chuckled, steam escaping from her cavernous nostrils.  

Jeff’s face fell.  He had always hoped, deep down, that a forgiving God would be there and allow his dad to recant at the last minute and have a normal, sober life in heaven where he could meet him one day.

As if reading his mind, she continued: “Everyone thinks that God is like, SUPER forgiving, but really, everyone has a limit.  Plus, all the junk people like your father put into their bodies completely seeps into and wrecks their souls too.  Your dad couldn’t ever really be normal ever again if he tried.”

“Wait, so he’s still-”

“A user?  Yep, there’s endless drugs in hell, so it fits him.  You’re catching on fast, dear.”  She winked at him.  “There’s endless partying in hell, but you always wake up so you can safely get your fix again.  Most druggies would probably be bored if they ended up in heaven.  For some people it takes the fun out of it, but if that does happen, it makes it for more fun for me!”  Her joy made her eyes sparkle with orange embers as she clasped her hands.  “But your dad truly loves the cycle of ups and downs.  He’s made some friends, and it works out because you don’t have to worry about him anymore.  It’s a win-win for everyone, really.”

Jeff got up and started pacing.  He went outside on the balcony for some fresh winter air, he checked his phone, checked the landline he still had on the kitchen wall because it brought back both pleasant and tragic memories.  There were so many nights as a kid that his mom had tried to call the bar or a friend’s house, his father’s two frequent hangouts.  The numbers were usually busy; they both hung on that transition between dial tone and ringing, forging their tight bond in the process.  She had only been gone for a few months; Jeff was convinced that the years of stress dealing with her addict husband was finally too much for her heart.  Consequently, he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of the antiquated telephone.  

Jeff turned lights off and on, the TV, the Xbox.   She waited patiently, filing her nails, picking at her teeth, flinging the found bits in the remnants of Jeff’s dinner, scratching her red leather skin.  

“Feel better?” she flatly asked when Jeff finally sat back down.  

“Yeah, actually, I do.  So does this mean-”

“That you’re going to hell?  Good Lord, no, you’d be a huge buzzkill to my little slice of heaven.  I’m here because your wish is my command.”  The devil then turned into a genie, complete with a unified smoke tail exiting a bottle and her arms crossed before returning to her cloven-hoofed form.  “So, what do you want?  And if you could make this fast, this North Dakota winter is hell for me.  And I most certainly don’t like that.  I call the hell-shots, on Earth and below.”  

“What’s the catch?”

“Nothing.  Scout’s honor.”  She raised her right hand, put her left behind her back.  

“What’s in it for you?”

“More street cred for my residents.  I seem like a nice gal, so they get some small piece of satisfaction that they are helping their Earthly counterparts, while I give them a sampling of the best drugs hell can offer.  For an extra fee.”

“A fee for me?”

“No, not exactly.  Your father would get extra torture from me in exchange for the goodies.  But I’ll be honest.  Many of your kind don’t take the offer.  They feel their loved ones are going to ‘suffer enough’ forever.”  She air-quoted her claws.  “But you humans always think you’re going to heaven.  God doesn’t always take kindly to decades of douchery for one minute of mindfulness, even if it’s not as bad as what your father has done over the years.”

Jeff pondered all the information he just received.  What would he do with this wish?  

“How long do I have to decide?”

The devil pretended to look at a watch.  “Two minutes.”

“What?”

“They don’t call me the devil for nothing, mister.  The clock is a ticking.”  She made a holographic stopwatch appear next to her head, complete with annoying ticking sounds.  She leaned back in her chair, emphasizing the more feminine parts of her anatomy, but it didn’t distract Jeff in the slightest.

True, Jeff didn’t have much in the way of material possessions, but that didn’t bother him.  He had enough money with his small place to allow him some extra money for small treats or trips with the couple friends that he had.  His time spent with his clients, however tedious and depressing, was the thing that he was most proud of.  His father had inspired him, through his heinous actions, to try and help others and their families from a similar fate such as his mother’s.  Jeff’s decision was made almost before he even knew it.

“Ok I think I know,” Jeff said, with 15 seconds to go.

The clock disappeared with a snap of the devil’s fingers. 

“I bet you do, honey.  Fire away.”

“I wish that all of the clients on my firm’s caseload were free of their addictions, and that all of them can continue their lives and make the world a better place and be sober for the rest of their lives.  Basically, I hope that my firm has no work in this city.”

The devil seemed uninterested, yet leaned forward.  “But what would you do with your time, sugarpie?  This is your life’s work.”

Jeff squinted, doubting the devil’s interests. “Because it’s why I do what I do.  Yeah, my job would be finished here, but who’s to say I can’t take my talents to another place?”

“You would need my help, sir.  You can’t cure all the addicts.  No person throughout history has ever been able to do that, thanks to me.  I’m surprised and secretly proud of you.”  She bowed her head in recognition. “If you want all the addicts on your caseload taken care of, I can do that.”

“I just want to make a bigger impact than I can do alone.  Plus I don’t really care about my father’s eternal existence.  I still love him, but he has made his bed, as they say.”  

The devil squinted.  “Don’t you care about your dear old dad?”

Jeff shrugged.  “Nah.  He didn’t care about me, and apparently not about himself or my mother either.  What does it matter to me?  What’s he going to do?  Haunt me?  He probably can’t even walk a straight line.”

She pondered this.  “You’re a bit evil.  I like it.  I might see you sooner than you imagine, dear.   Either way, I still get to torture your father.  Now no one can say I’m 100% evil I suppose.  That way more are drawn to me and my cause.”

The devil looked away, seeming to space out on Jeff’s refrigerator behind him.  Jeff slowly looked back at where her wide eyes focused, eyebrows raised in interest.

“All right.  Done.”  She disappeared in a puff of smoke, smelling faintly of brimstone, and was that lavender?  Jeff gagged.  His scotch suddenly didn’t seem appetizing anymore.  He looked around.  Nothing seemed to be any different.

************************

Early the next morning, Jeff was getting ready to leave for work; the slight adrenaline hangover was the only thing reminding him about his encounter the previous evening.   Suddenly, the corded phone in his kitchen rang, startling him. 

“Hello?”  Jeff answered, a stone of fear forming in his stomach.  Who would be calling his landline this early in the morning?  Few people had the number anymore.  

At the same moment, he heard his cell phone rang in his bedroom.

“Hang on a second,” Jeff blurted into the phone, running back to go get his cell, his pre-caffeinated nerves starting to fray.

“Hello?”  

“Yo, Jeff,”  his partner William was on the other end.  He sounded clear, energetic, giddy even, considering he should just be getting off of the night shift. “You’ll never believe what happened.  I’ve been waiting several hours to call you, but I didn’t want to wake you-”

“Hang on, man, I got someone on the other line.”  Jeff shuffled back into the kitchen, replacing the cell with the earpiece.  “Sorry, I-”

The voice on the other end sounded far away; Jeff smashed the handset into his ear, plugged the other with his finger.

“Hello?  I can’t hear-”

“Thank you,” the voice said.  It sounded scratchy, like an older woman, like-

“Mom?”  Jeff whispered back.  

“Thanks for the permission.  He’s going to get extra agony because of you!.”

The line then went dead with the eerily familiar click.  Jeff looked at the headset, not entirely believing what he just heard.  

“Jeff?  Jeff?”  His cell blared at his side.  He raised that arm, lowered the other.  

“William?”

“Yeah, what’s going on Jeff?  I can’t wait to tell you the good news!”

“All the addicts have made tremendous recovery, and are about to move out of the clinic.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy!  I’ve never seen everyone so lucid.  For some reason, I really believe every one of them when they say they’re never going to use again.  I don’t know how to explain it!  But wait, how do you-”

“Just call it the intuition I got from my mother,”  Jeff smiled.  He looked at the phone again, went to hang it up.  As he clicked the headset home in its cradle, he thought he smelled brimstone.  And lavender.