The Color of Sapphires

I see you seated at the bar by yourself. You look so much more beautiful without the stage makeup and garish costumes. You are wearing a simple light-blue dress that accentuates your bronze skin. Your jet-black hair flows down to your shoulder blades, and your dark-brown eyes stare into the distance. In this room full of Hollywood celebrities, wealthy socialites, and assorted sycophants who worship the ground you walk on, why did you choose to sequester yourself away from the crowd? Perhaps because you know what day it is. Your mind may not remember, with everything that’s happened in the last ten years. But your body knows.

I slide onto the barstool next to yours. “Still drinking sapphire martinis, I see,” I say, “Except now, nobody else has to buy them for you.”

You turn towards me. “Who are…” you start saying, then stop, as your eyes open wide in recognition.

The shape I have taken now is the same shape I took the last time we met. The shape of your fantasies. I am six feet tall, blond, blue-eyed, with muscles rippling underneath my tight black tee-shirt. I look like a young Odin. But Odin and I come from very different places.

“You know why I’m here,” I tell you.

You open your mouth, and I know you are going to protest. Everyone does. “Has it… has it already been…”

I nod. “Ten years to the day.” I pause and watch you take a nervous sip of your drink. I suspect you are no longer enjoying it. “That was the deal. And now I’m here.”

You bite your lip, saying nothing. “I don’t remember the deal,” you whisper finally.

I can’t help chuckling at that. “You’re lying. And you know I can tell.” After a moment’s thought I continue, “But it’s all right, I’ll remind you. For ten years, all your dreams come true. Ten years exactly. And after ten years, you meet a sudden, tragic end, and then you come with me. That’s the deal.”

You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and then glare at me with a humorless smirk. “Sealed with a kiss?”

My lips spread in a smile. “Oh darling,” I reply quietly, “It was a lot more than a kiss. But you’re right that my tongue was involved.”

I open my mouth, and you shudder and shrink away from me as you see the slithering black appendage, forked like a snake’s. Your reaction amuses me. “It scares you now, but I bet you remember what it could do for you.” I watch as a subtle, involuntary shiver runs up and down your body. “Yeah. You remember.”

The bartender comes over and gestures towards your empty glass. “Another sapphire martini?”

You nod in reply. He turns towards me. “And for you?”

“Maker’s. Neat.”

He walks away, and I turn to face you again. You look down, avoiding my gaze. “Enough small talk, darling,” I say, “Let’s get to business. First, I want to confirm I held up my end of the bargain.” Hesitantly, you raise your eyes to face me. I admire your bravery.

“Did you go from a diner waitress who sings in the shower to the biggest pop star in the world?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Bigger than Taylor Swift and Beyonce?”

“Yes.”

“Have these been the best ten years of your life?”

The drinks arrive. You take a sip of yours, then a deep breath. “Yes,” you say finally.

I shoot my bourbon. It warms my throat – the throat of this body – on the way down. Nothing is ever warm enough up here, but it’ll do. “Good,” I say, “Thank you for being honest this time.” After a pause, I add, “Now, for the sudden, tragic end – you get to choose. Would you like to hear the options?”

You bite your lip and look away from me. I can tell you are fighting back tears. “It’s not fair,” you say.

“Isn’t it?”

“No!” you snap, turning to look at me again, “It’s not! You plied me with alcohol. My judgement was impaired. The deal can’t be valid if I was drunk!”

I sigh and shake my head. Thousands of years I’ve been doing this, and it’s always the same. They plead, they argue, they threaten, they do whatever they can to try to avoid paying up. Everyone wants what I have to offer, but no one wants to honor their end of the deal.

“You had free will, darling,” I reply calmly, “You could have said no at any point. You could have said no to the first drink I bought you… or the third… or the seventh. You could have said no to the tongue, or to anything else we did, or to the deal. You chose to say yes to all these things. So it is, in fact, absolutely fair. And I am here to collect.”

Your breath quickens. Your eyes dart around the room, as if searching for someone who can save you. As if any of these simpletons has even the faintest idea of what’s going on.

Finally, you look me straight in the eyes and whisper, “There must be another way. Please. There must be.”

You look desperate. But there is something else, beneath the surface. I can’t quite place what it is, but I’m starting to think there is more to you than meets the eye.

“Well, if you must know,” I answer, “there is another way. But I don’t think you’ll like it. Instead of you, I can take the one who is most precious to you.”

What you do next is completely unexpected. You lean back, relax, and smile. “You know,” you say, “I thought that might be the case.”

I am confused. I haven’t felt confusion in several hundred years, but I feel it now.

You pull a cell phone out of your handbag and call someone. After three rings, they pick up, and you put it on speaker. “Hi, honey!” you say in a singsong voice.

“Hi, mom,” a young boy’s voice answers.

“I want you to meet a friend of mine,” you tell him.

You turn the screen towards me, and I see the face at the other end. My entire body fills with tension, and a sharp pain hits the pit of my stomach. Although far from the most painful thing I’ve ever felt, it’s unlike anything I’ve experienced, in any shape I’ve taken on. It’s the pain of emotional shock.

His skin is a slightly lighter shade of bronze than yours, and his hair is dark-brown. But his eyes… They are a piercingly bright shade of blue.

Like your drink.

Like your dress.

Like my eyes.

His eyes are the color of sapphires.

But even if he were green with purple polka dots, with peach-colored eyes, I would recognize my own essence looking back at me.

“Hi, mom’s friend,” he says.

I am unable to speak.

“Mom,” he says, “I think your friend forgot how to talk.”

You take the phone back and smile at the screen. “Oh honey, you know how I leave everyone speechless.”

He laughs. “You sure know how to be humble,” he says, then adds, “OK, bye, mom.”

You hang up and turn to face me. There is obvious triumph in your eyes. “My son is more precious to me than anyone else,” you say, “You know I’m telling the truth.”

“Yes, I know.” My voice comes out strained and hoarse. “Also, we both know “my” is not the operative word here.”

You smile. “That’s true,” you say, “So… are you going to take him?”

I stare at you long and hard. “I can’t.”

“That’s what I thought. So then…”

“So then, I can’t collect.” We sit in silence for a minute. I cannot believe this has happened. After all these millennia, someone has actually outsmarted me.

“How?” I ask finally, “We used a condom.”

You nod. “Sure,” you reply, “one that I provided. One that I had fixed.” After a moment you add, “Besides, this was one of my dreams. It had to come true.”

You take a long sip of your drink, savoring the martini and the moment. You then cross your arms and stare at me with a grin, basking in your victory.

But here is the thing. Your victory comes at a cost. You have no idea what cost.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” I whisper.

“What?” You sound annoyed more than puzzled.

I need another drink before answering. I gesture to the bartender. “Another Maker’s. Make it a double this time.”

I turn to face you again. “Do you know what happens when my child is brought into this world and walks among people?”

You uncross your arms, and the gleeful grin starts leaving your face. You open your mouth, then change your mind and say nothing.

“Three years and nine months. That’s how long you have left.”

“What?” you ask again, but this time your voice is shocked and scared. “But… you can’t collect.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean you personally, darling,” I answer, “I mean all of you.” I gesture vaguely around the room. “Everyone in this room. Everyone in this city. Every last human being on this planet. You all have three years and nine months left. Until he turns thirteen.”

Your grin has fully disappeared, and your face is becoming twisted in horror. You turn away from me and look down. “Oh my God,” you say quietly. Then, turning towards me again, “Can’t you stop it?”

I shake my head. “No. What you – what we set in motion is beyond anyone’s control. Even mine.”

And suddenly, it seems that we have run out of things to say to each other. The future is clear and inevitable. This is not what I had planned, but it is what has happened.

All things considered, humanity has been around long enough.

I down my drink, throw some bills on the bar, and get up. “So long, darling,” I say, “Congratulations on your victory.”