Three Wishes(3)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Fazire reared back an inch and stared at the small child.

“But she can barely talk!” Fazire objected.

Sarah stood up, let the child down to toddle off in some child direction with some unknown child intent in mind as, in horror, Fazire watched her go.

Then Sarah straightened, squared her shoulders and looked at Fazire.

“Well, I guess you’re going to be around for awhile,” she said quietly.

* * * * *

July Many Years Later

Fazire was sunning himself in the front yard holding the tri-panelled, cardboard-backed mirror Sarah got for him under his chin to get double sun access on his face. The golden rays were glinting happily off the pond and it was hotter than the hinges of hell and Fazire knew this to be true. He’d had a friend who visited one of his masters in hell and he’d described the excessive heat to Fazire during a channelling and humid Indiana heat in July sounded exactly like what his friend described.

He’d been there years and neither Sarah nor Becky had used a single wish nor had they shown any signs of doing this.

At first most of his genie friends thought this was hilarious, Fazire being stuck with a family in a small, farm town in Indiana, of all places, and they poked great fun at him.

Fazire, walking on the ground like mere mortals.

Fazire, wearing real clothes like humans did.

Fazire, eating blueberry muffins and strawberry shortcake just like people.

Fazire, getting a stocking filled with goodies at Christmas time.

Fazire, taking his young Rebecca on the bus to baseball games (Fazire liked… no, loved baseball and Becky absolutely lived for it).

Then Fazire would explain to them what homemade blueberry muffins, fresh from the oven and slathered in real butter, tasted like. He also went into great detail about what he received in his stocking. And he could wax poetic about a grand slam home run for more than fifteen minutes.

When he told them these stories, his genie friends got a little quieter when they were making fun. Then they got jealous. Then the settled in and couldn’t wait for Fazire to channel to tell them what he was up to next.

And Fazire was always up to something, usually with Becky.

Fazire leaned to his left and picked up the dripping wet, sweating glass of sweet, grape-flavoured Kool-Aid, his most favourite human drink – that was to say, in the summer, he loved Becky’s hot chocolate with marshmallow fluff melting on top in the winter. He slurped a big swallow out of the cool glass and spied Becky walking down to him.

She was round and jolly, just like him, and very tall. She was also very lovely with pretty green eyes and her mother’s white-gold hair. Fazire, although he would not admit this out loud to anyone, genie or human, thought of her a little bit like his child. He had helped to raise her in a way, if getting her into trouble and coaxing her to do naughty things was raising her which Fazire preferred to think it was.

Now she was a part-time photographer (she’d won a few awards and she’d even taught Fazire how to take photos) and she was married to Will Jacobs who thought the sun rose and set in her.

Fazire liked Will. Will had moved in with them rather than taking Becky away from them and Fazire approved of this. He found he very much liked having lots of people around the house and lots of conversation and more food on the table. Will was a bit intense but only in the best ways. He loved deeper, thought harder and cared more for people than, well, almost than Sarah and Becky did. He also could hold a pretty mean grudge so Fazire tried to stay on his good side.

And he knew what Fazire was and he didn’t mind a bit.

And, lastly, he liked baseball.

Yes, Will was okay in Fazire’s Book and Fazire did, indeed, have a book.

Becky waved at Fazire and then collapsed into the grass beside him. She was barefoot and wore a pretty dress. She smiled such a quirky, sweet smile it almost took your breath away. She also liked the sun, just like Fazire, and they used to spend hours outside in the summers baking away.

“Good day, Mistress Becky,” Fazire greeted cheekily.

“Quit calling me that,” she said but it wasn’t in a nasty way. In fact, she had a smile in her voice. He only called her that because it annoyed her and she was very easy to annoy. And sometimes when she was done being annoyed, it made her smile or giggle and even Fazire’s best wish granted was nothing to one of Becky’s smiles or giggles.

She was his mistress though and he tried to explain this to her so often, he lost count.

“You’re getting brown,” she observed, looking down at Fazire’s nicely tanned, suntan-oil-slicked, very-rounded body exposed by the swimming trunks.

“Do you want to go swimming?” he asked hopefully. He and Becky had gone swimming in the pond more times than he could remember. And today, such a hot day, he felt it was the perfect idea.

She turned on her side and shook her head. He noticed for the first time something was on her mind.

He threw aside his sun reflecting mirror and turned on his side too.

When Becky had something on her mind, Fazire was always there to listen.

He didn’t say a word. He just waited.

“Fazire…” she began and then looked away, “I’m scared even to ask,” she whispered.

“You can ask me anything, Becky.” And it was true. He didn’t know much and she’d figured that out years ago, considering she was very clever and she realised he spent most of his existence living in a double-decker bottle, but he would do his best.

She nodded and looked back at him, her green eyes warm but, indeed, frightened.

“Will and I have been trying to have a baby for years.”

“I know,” Fazire nodded sagely, she’d talked to him about this before. She talked to Sarah about it too. She’d tried and tried to have a baby but each time she tried, she lost it. Sometimes this was painful, sometimes she would bleed. A lot. Sometimes, no, actually every time, this was very scary for Will and Sarah and Fazire.

Losing a baby always made her sad and it was worse and worse every time.

“I want to have a baby,” she said in a rush, almost as if she was afraid of the words, afraid to hope, to wish. “I won’t be greedy, just one. I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl. It doesn’t even have to be perfect, just someone to love, someone that Will and I made, someone –”

Fazire went quite still.

All these years…

“Are you asking for a wish, Becky?”

She looked at him carefully, silently then she nodded.

He couldn’t believe it, after all these many, many years. She was older than most women who had babies these days but this, this was a wish he could grant.