Amends
As soon as Dalton got control of himself he headed back to the dining room to have dinner with his wife. Before he entered the dining room, he stopped to watch her. How could he have ever cheated on her? She was more beautiful than Callista could ever be.
"Everything okay," he asked as he sat back down. The baby was awake now and fussy. "Is he hungry?"
"No, he already ate," Anne said sweetly. The baby continued to cry. "And yes, he's already been burped."
"What's wrong with him then? Is he dirty?"
"No, I changed him while you were gone." She looked up to see the man who'd been with Callista earlier standing behind Dalton, a solemn smile on his face.
"What is it? I've never seen him like this before."
"You never see him," she said coolly. "You never see anything."
"That's something I want to change. Anne, I want things to be different between us. I want them to be better than they have been."
"You should have thought of that before you started sleeping with her," she told him. Dalton's jaw dropped. Tears stung her eyes. "The night you turned your back on me it killed me. You thought I didn't know what was going on, but I did. I may not have known who it was at first, but I did know."
"I know it was wrong. I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm only asking for a second chance. I want to be there for you." He looked at his son and smiled. "I want to be there for our son."
"Our son?" Anne asked, looking up at him.
"Yes, I realize I've put everything on you—"
"Dalton, you weren't even there for his birth."
"I was wrong. I know that now."
"You knew it then. You just didn't care. As long as you got what you wanted you didn't care. Well don't worry anymore. We won't be here to cramp your style."
"What?" He looked at her, dumbstruck. "You can't. You don't have any money. You have no place to go."
"That's where you're wrong, Dalton," she seethed. "I have everything I need and more."
"But how? Why?"
"I told you, I knew you were having an affair. For a while, I was devastated. Then I was angry. I couldn't figure out what I'd done to drive you away. As time went on I realized it wasn't me. It was you."
"It was me," Dalton said softly. "I should have seen how perfect you were before now." He put his hand on hers. Tears flooded his eyes. "Please don't leave. We can work this out."
"No, we can't."
"Yes we can. We have a son to think about here, Anne."
"No! I have a son to think about. Not you. Never you." The baby began to cry louder. Dalton reached for him, but a big hand pushed his shoulder back against the chair. He looked up to see the man he'd lost Callista to.
"Keep your hands off my son," Cain warned.
"Anne?" Dalton paused, as if he were waiting for a denial. "Anne, what's he saying?"
"Lust killed me, Dalton," Anne said handing the baby to Cain. She stood up and looked down at her husband. "Love, real love saved me."
# # #
Envy is love of one's own good perverted to a desire to deprive other men of theirs.
—Dante
V. ENVY
I am, Envy
by
Tymothy Longoria
Across the land there is a wind blowing, a shapeless and ethereal mist. From it a hundred whispers in a hundred different dialects join into a single, garbled voice. It speaks in an unknown and terribly dark tongue. None alive can understand what is said. The mist flies into the air, groaning, and darts into the sky quicker than the eye can comprehend.
Over the mountains of Sanguine, across the ice crags of Sorian and over a small town known only as Vale. Through the night sky, over lands found only in the furthest reaches of the imagination… deadly, malicious and insatiable, Envy hungers and searches for a new host…and finds him.
Through the streets of Vale, a small village in the valley of a vast forested mountain range, Christoph, of the House Blue Raven, walked. Neither the most handsome nor the best dressed man, in his mind, he deserved more. Like most days, he was wearing the old coat his father had given to his brother, who in turn, had given it to him.
The once brilliant green dye was browned from the fine layer of dust covering the coat. He never bothered to wash it. "Why should I bother?" he thought, "I need no one's approval of me."
When he reached the stoop of the tavern where he often sat, he watched the townspeople move about the small village, without words. He thought mostly of how much he couldn't stand them. He pulled his long rowen wood pipe from his coat and smoked his herbs pulled from the forest a few miles down. They calmed him, mostly. They also made him a bit paranoid.
"You are all worthless!" he yelled at the passersby between puffs. They had attempted before to speak to him, for most of them truly wanted him to change his ways.
"Christoph, why do you have to be this way? No one ever bothers you," a villager told him once.
"You can come by and have a drink with me at sundown. What say you?" a once good friend named Janus often asked him, more times than Janus would like to remember. Christoph accepted the offers, but each time, he would point out how bad his life was and how only he suffered bad news and tragedy. Janus put an end to these social meetings.
Others grew frustrated with how he carried himself. Christoph shrugged their kind words off, and always had something to say in response. In his mind, he was right. He was the one that needed to be heard, not the other way around, and in judgment of everyone. Over time, however, after all but giving up on him, their sincerity turned to disdain and they began to shy away. They learned to ignore him, but he would smile at them thinking to himself, You'll all see how wrong you are. Nothing is wrong with me. You are the ones who need to change.
However, a group of villagers, three or four at their most, continued to be kind to Christoph. Especially a man called Jhonen. Jhonen was a man whom the citizens called 'blessed.' He was considered handsome, talented, and shared his gifts with the village. At one time he even visited the larger city of Valiante to speak on behalf of the town. Jhonen was the opposite side to Christoph's bitter coin. However, he wasn't without fault. He was a man like any other, with past misdeeds and failings, and Christoph never let him forget it. Oftentimes Jhonen would approach and attempt to show Christoph a genuine concern but would soon be reminded of his transgressions.
Christoph inhaled the smoke from his pipe as Jhonen walked over to him.
"Christoph, I'm sharing a story with the kids this evening at the town hall. I would love for you to come. If only to enjoy yourself."
"Eh. Look at you," he snapped, scratching at his unshaven beard, "So what? I can't be the only one that remembers what you used to do," he grunted at Jhonen with a sneer, "Don't forget everything I've done for you."
"I've changed, Christoph. I've tried telling you, I'm not that person anymore. In fact, while I did what I did, it was to me, no one else. I hurt one person. Me. I thought by now we could get past all of this and move on."
"You still did it. And you're wrong. You're not the only one that was hurt. Not by a small measure. When are you going to get what you deserve? When will you be punished for the wrong you did?" Christoph chided, "There truly is no justice."
Jhonen said nothing. He never acted as if he were a model of perfection, or as if he did no wrong. No, he embraced his calling in life and now spent his days acting on that call. Now he only looked at Christoph, and even though his callous words made him angry, he was a man after all. There was no malice in his anger.
"Well, okay. I'll see you soon," he said softly, walking away and shaking his head until a sight led to his paused. "Your eyes. Are you feeling well?"
"My eyes?" Christoph sneered, pulling the pipe from his mouth, exhaling into Jhonen's direction.
"Yes, there's something…different about them."
"I don't think so, Jhonen. As you were."
Squinting his eyes, Jhonen attempted to look deeper into Christop
h's, but the smoke clouded between them. As he walked further down the road an elderly man with a staff and a long-aged beard stopped him.
"You know, it's okay to just leave him be," the man, Brunis, said. "I've talked to him numerous times. If he doesn't listen to me, why do you assume he will be open to what you have to say?"
Jhonen looked back where he had left Christoph, rubbing his eyes. He looked up at Brunis. "I can try, Brunis. I can try. I've extended my hand to him several times. Should he still not accept it, so be it. I will continue to do what I feel is right."
"You are right to do that, just heed my words. It will wear you out, my friend," Brunis put his hand over Jhonen's shoulder as they walked. "You have been called. But so has Christoph. The difference is he spends his days and nights thinking about foolish things. That leaf doesn't help at all. I have no qualms about it myself. Everything is fine in moderation, but he lives and breathes for it. He wastes his life. You do not." Brunis stopped and looked into Jhonen's brilliant malachite eyes.
"Have you ever heard of Schadenfreude?"
"Schadenfreude? No Brunis. I-"
"It's simple. Schadenfreude is…when a man wants another to fail, awaiting eagerly to watch it happen. He awaits it. Christoph is opening his heart to this as we speak. I've tried telling him. But you know as well as I do, he wants no part of what a wise man has to say." Brunis scratched his gray beard and looked into the sky. "Many times…and sadly too many times, something tragic must happen before we learn."
"The nature of man, Brunis," Jhonen said looking down at his shoes.
"Young Jhonen, precisely. At least that is what my elders would say about the strength of stubbornness. The jack-ass won't move unless it is whipped."
"Brunis, I hear you. But I won't stop, dear friend." Jhonen put his hand on Brunis' shoulder.
"The ever-ardent optimist," Brunis said with a smile from ear to ear. He extended his hand to Jhonen's face and tapped his fingers against Jhonen's cheek.
"Very well. Don't ever. You will receive your reward in time son. I will meet with you later, at the tavern?"
"Of course! After the get together!" Jhonen smiled and waved at Brunis, lifting his jacket collar and embracing the sun's light. "Schadenfreude, aye?" he whispered to himself. Jhonen looked to his left. The house of books was close by. Before he parted, he stood thinking to himself, This is intriguing.
The night came and Jhonen was in the town hall, dressed in his father's suit, tailored to his own measurements. The single women smiled as he walked to the front.
"Hello, all! The children have gathered. We have all come together for tonight's festivities. In honor of the story tellers that came before us, those who passed legends and tales down from generation to generation," he smiled and looked at the children seated on the floor close by and continued, "through oral tradition. I would like to begin by sharing a story once told to me by my uncle, Talis." The children waited attentively when suddenly there was a sound in the back of the room.
Everyone turned. Some gasped, noticeably. His attention turned to the noise, Jhonen nodded and cracked a nervous smile.
"Ladies, gentlemen. I invited our latest guest here," Jhonen began and extended his hand to Christoph. He implored the audience, "Let's show him a warm welcome! Christoph, of the House Blue Raven, everyone."
When Christoph walked toward the front and center of the hall, slowly the townsmen and women began to clap. The applause was scattered at best.
"Why's he here?" a boy asked Jhonen. "He's so mean."
His disappointed look silenced the boy. "Christoph, would you care to share a tale for the children?"
Christoph shook his head. "No."
"See?" the boy said looking at Jhonen.
"Christoph is one of the best story tellers I know. Wouldn't you all agree? Come on up, Christoph!"
Hesitant at first, Christoph saw the the excitement in Jhonen's eyes and walked toward the front of the hall. He pulled at his jacket and attempted to fix his matted hair. He reached the front and cleared his throat.
"Okay." Christoph nervously pulled on his jacket collar.
"Go on, you'll be great," Jhonen whispered, patting his hand against Christoph's back. Christoph nodded and began. "Well. We all know of the wood that reaches clear across the…the…river…that quenches the thirst of all of Vale. There is a tale of the creature that scrambles about and pulls up any weed that does not belong. These creatures are known as the…?" He paused and motioned at the children, most of them surprised at being called on.
"The Caritus!" one of the children answered.
"Yes, yes that is right!" Christoph smiled.
Jhonen was pleased. Brunis, everyone deserves a second chance. Even a third and fourth.. He clutched his chest in pain suddenly, but quickly recovered. He looked on at Christoph as he told his story.
Christoph spoke for nearly ten minutes acting out the characters, regaling an account of the Caritus he saw firsthand. He waved his arms in the air and ran back and forth in front of the children, playing out each part as best he could.
By this time, Jhonen was speaking to a rather beautiful young woman by the name of Maris and now appeared disinterested in Christoph's tale. At least, it appeared that way to Christoph.
He finished and looked into the audience. Some smiled, more than he expected, and they clapped, softly. At this sound, Jhonen kissed Maris' hand and started for the front.
"Amazing! The Caritus! We have such a rich and wonderful history here in Vale, and we should all thank Christoph for sharing that with us," Jhonen said, almost pleading with the audience to do as he said. They clapped a little but not much, though the children seemed to enjoy it.
"Now, who's ready for my story?" Jhonen asked.
Immediately, the audience clapped loudly and the children shouted. Jhonen smiled and began to speak. Christoph's crooked smile turned into a frown and he walked straight out of the door. So engaged in telling his tale, Jhonen didn't notice.
Christoph turned and whispered, "What makes you better than me?" He bit down on his jaw and struck the outside of the wall. His eyes glassed over and burned. He rubbed them and noticed something flying in the air over the roof tops. Bewitched, he shook the burning away and went toward the mysterious shadow in the air. Running as fast as his legs would take him, he still could not catch it, so he continued searching.
"Ayo, Christoph, what is the matter with your eyes?" shouted a man walking by with his wife in his arms.
"Leave me be, old man!" he yelled back at him, running past the couple.
"Did you see his eyes? They were…they were putrid…putrid green!" he told her. "I swear that boy looks sick."
"What is it? What flies by night?" Christoph shouted. He searched the air but found nothing. Not even a bird. "Damn it if that was a mere lark," he whispered to himself. Looking still into the sky, he walked a little further down the road and met up with none other than Jhonen.
"Christoph! You were amazing back there! They really enjoyed it."
Christoph's nostrils flared upon hearing Jhonen's voice.
"Did they? Don't you mean they really enjoyed you?" he said as he looked straight through Jhonen's eyes. Jhonen shivered.
"Christoph why do you—?"
"Why? Why what? You think just because your coat is clean and you talk to Maris, and you're of the Red Lion…What? You're better than me?" He stepped closer toward Jhonen. "You would have nothing if I didn't allow you to stay with me when you needed me." Christoph said callously. He gulped, his eyes shining in the moonlight.
"Christoph, I've thanked you many times and shown you kindness and gratitude for everything," Jhonen said as he noticed the gleam. "You must believe I am sincer—"
"No," Christoph interrupted, "I don't have to do anything. You'll see."
"See what?" Jhonen asked, sincerely perplexed by Christoph's vague statement and put his hand to his heart.
Christoph clenched his jaw, shook his head and walked away, bumping Jhonen's s
houlder. As he passed him, his eyes glassed over and a faint hue of putrid olive could be seen.
Jhonen turned to him. "You're eyes! Are you okay, Christoph?" Jhonen yelled at him. Christoph said nothing and Jhonen watched him walk off down the path leading away from town. His hand to his chest, he whispered to himself, "I'm getting sick of this. I had such a good time at the hall tonight. Maybe Brunis is right. I mean, he doesn't want anything to do with anything we have to say." Staring down the path, he nodded. "I've got to get my mind off of this." Jhonen knew where he was going next. The house of books.
He made his way through town and came to the entrance. He pulled in his collar and stepped in quietly, catching the attention of the owner and keeper of the books, Mr. Vivili. He was a tall, thin man with a tuft of black hair over each ear. He looked away from a book and peered at Jhonen through the biggest set of eyeglasses.
"My my," Mr. Vivili exclaimed. "Jhonen, to what do I owe this late visit?"
"Mr. Vivili, suppose a man wanted to research…Schadenfreude. Where would he start?" he asked holding his jacket lapels in each hand.
The keeper arched his brow. "Why do you seek to learn about this entity?" he asked as he hunched closer to Jhonen. He wrinkled his nose to peer over his glasses. "This is a matter for the elders. Of learned men. Men with steely resolve," he said puffing out his tiny chest.
Jhonen looked at Mr. Vivili and back toward the house entrance.
"Well, young man, what say you? Do you have the fortitude?" he said, over enunciating every vowel.
"I say that I want to learn about everything. And yes, Mr. Vivili, I do."
Mr. Vivili raised his glasses. "Jhonen of the Red Lion, this I know. But it is my place to ask. You see, there are some tales that begin as truth, and then become lore, passed down from age to age," he said motioning his hand like a feather falling to the earth. He stood straight, lifting his chest again. "I am the keeper. It is my responsibility to steer those who wish to gain knowledge."
Jhoned smiled. "The book, Mr. Vivili," he interrupted. "The book please, sir."
Seven Deadly Sins Page 13
