Spent

At the edge of a bed, an arm hangs. Cigarette drooping between two fingers.
"Don't get ash on my carpet."
Glances down.
"There's a magazine there. It's my ashtray, for now."
"You'll set the house on fire."
The arm leaves. Eyes squint. Inhale.
"It's ash. Essentially, dead fire. The house'll be fine."
Exhale. Long gray tunnel shoots out, only to spread out merrily towards the ceiling.
"Hey."
"Hmm?"
"Do you think."
An elbow props a face for a better look.
"Do you think, in Heaven, people can. Umm. Commit unnatural acts?"
Inhale. Eyes blink up at the light fixture.
"They say we can do whatever we want, right? Eat whatever we want, drink all the wine we want. Do you think this would include."
"Deviant s&xual behavior?"
Nod.
Laughter. Eyes close to imagine this. Brows furrow. Amused, nonetheless.
"I've been reading this book*, see. This man makes friends with an angel. And they meet each other for just one night every year. And the angel listens to the man, comforts him when his daughter died. Tells him stories about different places. And then, twenty years after meeting the angel for the first time, the man realises he's in love with the angel."
"Naturally."
"Naturally. And they. Do it."
A single eyebrow is raised. Cigarette suspends in the air.
"Is the angel female?"
"No."
"Aaah."
Inhale.
"I didn't like it at first. Thought it dull."
"But then, they started. Doing it, as you say."
Exhale.
"And then you thought it pretty exciting, didn't you?"
"It wasn't graphic, if that's what you're getting at. It was more. I don't know. How much they loved each other."
"And then?"
"And then, the angel tried to get back into Heaven, although he'd been warned before to stay away. He was one of the fallen angels. With Lucifer, see. But Lucifer and God made a pact, that this angel, Xas, his name, can come and go as he pleases."
"Come and go? Into Heaven?"
"No. He has to live somewhere in the outskirts of Hell. He makes visits to Earth because he's trying to build a garden where he lives."
"He tried to build a garden. In Hell."
"Yes."
Glances at the forlorn cigarette between two fingers. Tap. Ashes float onto the magazine.
"And this book made you wonder if people in Heaven can have whatever kind of s&x they want."
"I've always wondered that."
Smile. Looks for a place to stub out cigarette. Finds none.
"You should get me an ashtray."
"No. I shouldn't."
Grinds cigarette onto the base of bedside lamp.
"I don't think," pulls tangled sheet up to cover shoulders, "you can get into Heaven with thoughts like that."


The cigarettes are untouched.
"What makes you think you can wake up in the middle of the night and have your way with me?"
"Because I can."


Click goes the cigarette lighter.
"I'm hungry. Aren't you hungry?"
"I have to go soon."
"I know."
Smoke hisses out through clenched teeth.
"If I yawn through another meeting this week, I'm fired."
On the other side of the bed, thin fingers with carefully manicured nails absently scratches a hip.
"I know."
Eyes squint. Inhale.
Outside, a dog starts barking. A car leaves its parking lot.
Exhale. The cigarette is taken away. Eyes meet.
"I'll come back."
"Sure you will."
Eyes go back to the ceiling. Long drag, cigarette paper burning away, a pinlight in a darkened room.
"One quick bite. Then we go."
Legs swing out onto the floor. A shirt is put on.
Ash fall onto the bed. Flick flick.
"Hey."
A pause at the bathroom door.
"What."
"At least we have more than one night a year."
Smiles all around.

*The Vintner's Luck by Elizabeth Knox, 1998.