Normally he wouldn’t spring for the cab, but today was the day.
He was going to do it. James Cursive got out of the cab and dutifully
joined the mob of dark-suited nine-to-fivers plodding towards the glass
revolving door.
As he crossed the spinning threshold into the too opulent lobby, he wondered
if what he felt was how adulterers felt on the morning of their first
fling. He did his best to distract himself. If he didn’t think about
what he was planning, perhaps he could escape some of the consequences.
Twenty six and a career ladder with way too many rungs above him. Struggling
with rent, unable to afford regular Starbucks or a cab was no way to live.
Manhattan was a brutal city. Either prey or be preyed upon. After only
a few years, he was finding out that he was a sheep.
With his off-the-rack suit and his bland tie, he knew he was unremarkable.
Not one of the lawyers or overpaid consultants noticed him. With brown
hair, medium build and a face that few women remembered, his whole being
was simply average.
As he stood amongst the silent throng staring intently at the polished brass
doors of the elevators, he sent out a quick thought to the coffee-sipping, sneaker-wearing
businesswomen next to him.
It was a simple thought. James simply pulled together a memory of what it was
like to flop down on his couch on a Friday evening at the end of a workday. He
exhaled in relaxation as he embraced his family’s gift. As his thought
of comfort silently and invisibly floated towards its target, James waited.
He knew the woman would be receptive to it. If she wore such atrocious sneakers
with her power suit, she must value her comfort. He didn’t know how it
worked. He had avoided even thinking about it for most of his life. But the few
times he had flirted with it, it came easily to him.
The subtle change in her posture and the smile that snuck into her expression,
told him she felt his covert gift. He didn’t know the woman and didn’t
know what a slight suggestion of contentment would do for her or to her. Perhaps
it would allow her to deal a little better with an overbearing boss. Perhaps
it would dull the edge of her well-practiced and crucial presentation.
The ramifications for other people were hard to predict. The ramifications for
the practitioner of his family’s curse weren’t. He would soon feel
a response. Somehow and at sometime, the magic would punish or reward him three
times for what he did to her or for her.
As the doors opened with a chime and the herd silently stepped into the predictably
silent elevator, James thought about his family, his father specifically. He
knew more about his father from stories and warnings than he remembered from
actual childhood encounters.
The gift his father’s chromosomes had passed to him was more seductive
than the first innocent sip of liquor snuck by a future alcoholic teen. The warnings
of his mother and aunt as well as the crushing poverty and shame his father left
him with were almost enough to make him avoid temptation throughout his adolescence
and early twenties.
For eight years he had paid for his adolescent ploy to beat the curse. Knowing
the gruesome details of his father’s death wasn’t enough to overcome
being ignored in high school. His friend, Abby wasn’t outgoing or popular.
But, she was pretty enough to want. With his teenage mind, James figured if he
gave the girl confidence, he would be rewarded for his benevolence. They were
best friends; he couldn’t imagine her not turning to him when she realized
what she had to give a male.
Abby got noticed by many boys at school. Almost overnight, she inherited beauty
and the esteem of others. It was too much for a shy girl who believed people
were genuinely good. For a while, too many members of the football team enjoyed
her. Displaced cheerleaders spread the seeds of rumor, which grew into immovable
oaks. Her undatable status lasted throughout high school until she moved on to
college.
Now, as he strode to his gray, feature-less cubicle he was preparing to give
into temptation. But, he would take control, rather than fight a losing war.
Weakening here and losing a little battle there, was no way to live. If he was
damned, he figured he would use it for his own amusement.
He stopped at the kitchenette more from routine than because he needed the cup
of gourmet coffee his firm saw fit to provide. Despite his attempts at not being
hopelessly smitten, he glanced toward her cubicle.
She was there, heart-stoppingly beautiful as always. From his vantage point in
the kitchenette, he could only see the back of her blond head. With a deep breath
and a reminder to be cool, he walked through the maze of cubicles until he came
upon hers.
What in the world was someone like her doing working at her job? She could easily
be a model or an actress. Even her little upturned nose was perfect, as if she
could cutely wiggle it at will. The effect of her perfume and her fitted skirts
was a conversational staple at the office happy hours. She had to know how good-looking
she was. Still, she was nice enough to pretend she didn’t know.
“
Hey Kathy, how was your weekend?”
“
Oh, you know, never as much fun as it should be. But I’ll take it. How
was yours?”
“
Oh, tons of fun. I spent most of Friday night doing laundry and most of Saturday
reading the stupid TPS reports.” James didn’t want her to know that
that he often had to do catch-up work on the weekends and had nothing to show
for it.
“
Oh well, you need to plan something fun. Otherwise it won’t happen. I know,
I’m a dork for planning fun, but I’m the same way, if I don’t
make myself do it, I’ll find something boring and productive to do.”
“
Yeah, that’s a good plan.” He said lamely. It was his opening; maybe
he could’ve asked her out. But no, he just backed away and headed towards
his cubicle. Besides she had so many rich and good-looking guys taking her out,
he couldn’t offer anything that would compare to what she was used to.
When she casually mentioned how her dates wined and dined her, it was as if she
was nailing the coffin shut on his hope of ever seeing her socially.
He sat down and logged in to his terminal and tried to forget what he was about
to do. Relaxation, he knew, was the key to sending feelings.
He wasn’t an expert at using his gift. He had avoided it for so long. But,
more and more, he felt the pull of it. It was only a matter of time before he
succumbed. Why not jump in instead of resisting an irresistible temptation?
“
Mr. Cursive?”
James was startled by the sudden attempt to get his attention. For the zillionth
time in his life, he was glad others could not read his mind.
“
Yes sir,” he replied to his boss.
“
I’ve been noticing that some of your work has been top notch. Really good.
I just wanted to let you know I passed on that sentiment to my boss. I don’t
know if anything will come of it, but I thought you’d want to know.”
With that, his boss walked off down the maze of cubicles.
James was glad his boss walked off, so that his blush and his goofy smile weren’t
seen. Well, that was certainly unexpected, James thought to himself. Immediately,
he wondered if it was a consequence of helping the lady relax earlier. Was the
good word from his boss three times the good she received by being relaxed on
the way to work?
If it was a result of his earlier action with the women in the lobby, it should
have been enough of a warning to convince James not to do what he was about to
do. But, decisions, especially important ones, are rarely made with the mind.
Emotion hidden in rationalization was what tipped the balance in most decisions.
James was tired of working in a futureless job with no girlfriend. He was frustrated
with having nothing to do on the weekend. And, most importantly, he was sick
of being ignored by Kathy. Not that she was rude or mean to him. It was just
that no thought of him being attractive or a sexual possibility had ever entered
her mind.
He pushed down all of the arguments his conscience threw at him. He was going
to do it. It wouldn’t really harm her. He would be the one to pay for it
three times over if it was, in fact, bad. And, the line between what was good
and bad was so blurred these days.
Besides, if it got him into trouble, he could always influence his way out. He
would just be smarter about it than his father had been.
James Cursive began to think. He stared at Kathy’s cute hind end as she
bent to load paper. The pert way it stretched the little zipper running up the
back. The skirt was tight enough to make James think about what she wore underneath.
Thoughts of his many fantasies about her rose to the surface of his mind. Too
many dateless nights spent thinking about her gave him ample material with which
to construct his erotic concept.
Sitting in his cubicle, covertly staring at Kathy from behind, James Cursive
remembered the many websites he had visited. The models all displayed expressions
of ecstasy. Whether they were real or not, did not matter. James could use them,
form them into the thought he would soon send her.
He had denied himself release for days in preparation for this moment. He resisted
the urge to touch himself under the desk. He needed to keep focused. He could
feel his face flush as blood rushed to and filled other parts of him. When he
could stand the temptation no longer, he exhaled and sent the bundle of eroticism
out.
He didn’t know how it traveled across the office. He didn’t know
what would happen if someone were to inadvertently walk into his floating gift.
The seconds it took for the thoughts to float invisibly across the dull gray
carpet seemed like eternity. Right before he gave up, he saw her twitch.
With certainty, he knew she received it. She slid into her swivel chair delicately,
as if unsure. Her strapped heels crossed each other as she brought her knees
together. James was just quick enough to look down at his keyboard as she looked
over her shoulder nervously. When he risked a quick glance, he could see she
was biting her lower lip. Again, she looked around to see if anyone was noticing
her enjoy her hidden pleasure.
James wondered if she was fighting with herself as her hands fidgeted in her
lap. Did she regret the fabric was stretched so tight across her thighs? Would
she fight it if she thought she was alone? He wondered if she would scurry to
the bathroom to have some privacy and quiet enjoyment.
Kathy shifted from one hip to another. A third time she looked over her shoulder,
this time with a guilty expression on her face. As she turned her vacant stare
to the monitor, her manicured fingers gripped her desk. She arched her back for
a second or two then relaxed.
It worked! He did it. What else could he do? How far could he take it? James’s
head swam with a joy he was sure exceeded what Kathy had just felt.
In a rush, Kathy swung around in her office chair and rushed down the cubicle
maze. The euphoria James Cursive felt was slammed out of him when he saw the
look on her face. Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill over her bottom
eyelid. Her flushed expression only highlighted her panicked expression.
Holy shit, what had he done? She had lost control of her body because of him.
Did she even want it? Holy shit, he was a rapist. He had forced his will on her.
Guilt heavier than any boulder crashed on him again and again. It was irrational,
he knew it. But, the curse took his thoughts away and shoved in what it wanted
him to feel.
He had just raped someone! Like anyone else, he had thought he was a good person.
How could he be a good person if he just raped someone? What would he do next
he wondered in despair. Would he murder, go after children? Was he going down
his father’s road, only making up for lost years by taking giant leaps?
No, wait, what if he used his gift for others instead of on others? Could he
live on the consequences of good deeds for others? Could he soothe Kathy when
she came back? Would that make up for it? Would it make up for it three times?
It didn’t matter. Despair crashed on him again. The curse was irresistible.
He might fight it, but he would lose. He would chase his own salvation at the
expense of others and feel their pain three times over.
He could feel the pull of it already. The curse was burying him in an avalanche
of guilt. A cold lump in his throat only emphasized the hot tears of shame that
were brewing in his eyes.
There was only one way. He had to end it now. Was it the curse that made him
decide or the last shred of nobility he had? He seized on a spark of willpower
before it vanished. Clumsily, he bolted up from his chair and ran through the
office. He chose the stairs because the elevator would give him time to think,
to quit.
If he was dead, he could not harm others. Damn the curse. He was a passenger
in his body. The curse was the conductor. Like a rocket, he burst out of the
stairs and sprinted out of the marble lobby. The traffic in the street would
be quick and painless.
He barely lost speed as he went through the rotating door. He heard the bus as
soon as he left the door. It was down the street and moving slow, but it would
do it the job. Was this really going to be the end?
He forced his mind to be empty. He had to do this. He would not harm others as
his father did. The curse flooded his mind. Were any of his thoughts his own?
James Cursive wasn’t scared at the prospect of diving under the bus’ front
tire. It felt strangely liberating. Standing on the curb waiting to die gave
him a myriad of thoughts.
He would not weaken. Almost time. The bus was moving slowly enough that he could
see the tread on the tire. He regretted causing the riders, the driver and the
spectators the inconvenience of seeing him die, but they would soon forget it
as they went on with their lives.
This was it. He crouched to leap. As he jumped, he heard a scream and felt his
arm being yanked backward. It wasn’t enough to stop him. It just changed
the angle of his dive.
James Cursive surprised himself with how calm and reflective he was as he felt
the bus’ headlight implacably collide with the back of his head. Time was
distorted. Did he notice his body land on the sidewalk? Did he hear the screams
or just imagine them?
He couldn’t see! He heard the cacophony of agitated onlookers. There was
no pain. But he couldn’t see. Were his eyes open? He thought so. He was
blind.
“
Someone call an ambulance.”
“
He’s breathing.”
“
Sir, Sir. Can you hear me?” The voice was close to his ear. “I’m
a doctor.
James Cursive couldn’t see, but he knew the man was kneeling over him.
A distant voice announced, “The paramedics have been called.”
“
What’s your name?” The doctor asked. His voice was thick with worry.
James wished he could see the kind Samaritan.
James tried to speak, but his tongue felt too big, too unresponsive. His mouth
just wouldn’t work.
“
It’s OK.” Just stay with me.”
Panic began to rise in James as the guilt of the curse receded into its dark
corner.
“
Sir, can you squeeze my hand?”
The doctor was holding his hand? It didn’t feel like it. Fear lent him
strength. He squeezed with desperation.
“
Come on you can do it, just one little squeeze.”
Right as he was about to try again, it hit him. The curse of three. Was this
three times the helplessness Kathy had felt?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joe Swope’s story, A Puppet’s Soul, appeared in the first issue of Spinetingler Magazine and is included in our anthology.
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