{"id":25273,"date":"2021-02-18T16:56:17","date_gmt":"2021-02-18T23:56:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/aimsreview.aims.edu\/incite\/?p=25273"},"modified":"2023-05-15T13:55:32","modified_gmt":"2023-05-15T19:55:32","slug":"nameless","status":"archive","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/aimsreview.aims.edu\/incite\/nameless\/","title":{"rendered":"Archived: Nameless by Zoe Coats (Junior)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Her fingers were cold as frost-bitten glass. They twitched nervously in her lap, which was absurd because she had nothing to be nervous about. The doctor ushered her toward a chair, \u201cMs. Oswald, you might want to sit down for this.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She arched an eyebrow. \u201cJust spit it out, young man. I don\u2019t need to be coddled.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou have lung cancer,\u201d the doctor announced like it was Christmas Day.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe hell I do.\u201d Ms. Oswald waggled one threatening finger at him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMa\u2019am, you\u2019ve been smoking since you were 16. You haven\u2019t been to the doctor in over 5 years, so there is little we can do for you at this point. You have a year at most.\u201d He almost added <\/span>Have fun dying<\/span><\/i>, but that felt too unprofessional. Still, she did this to herself, and the doctor found it hard to have any sympathy. His dad had died of hepatic cancer, so of course he had difficulty warming up to people who chose the risk of cancer through their own stupid decisions. His dad never got a choice. The 72-year-old woman across from him just burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. The doctor checked himself\u2014he wasn\u2019t usually the type that inspired laughter. \u201cMs. Oswald, I don\u2019t see how this is funny.\u201d Tears began streaming down her cheeks as she cackled. He knew nervous laughter was sometimes used as a coping mechanism, but she seemed to be laughing with actual mirth.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ms. Oswald took several deep breaths, though her face was still red with merriment. \u201cDon\u2019t worry my dear, cancer can\u2019t kill me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI appreciate your optimism, and I realize this must be difficult for you, but you must see things realistically. We will do all we can to keep you alive, but you have to acknowledge that death is a distinct possibility.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ms. Oswald\u2019s lips became a thin line, all laughter gone. \u201cListen up, Dr. O\u2019hare\u2014though I\u2019m not convinced you\u2019re a real doctor. Doctors these days, you\u2019re all either phonies, liars, or lawyers in disguise. I\u2019m not sure which is worse. One time, I met this doctor who walked fast enough to give a frail old lady an aneurysm. Good thing I do cardio.\u201d Dr. O\u2019hare didn\u2019t bother to explain that that\u2019s not at all how aneurysms work. \u201cAt any rate, I\u2019m going to tell you a story that I have told no one else. It is my story, so it is not for you to repeat. Yes?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

At this point, the doctor just decided to go along with it\u2014denial was, after all, the first stage of grief. \u201cFine, you have my word.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The dying woman began her tale. \u201cYou\u2019re probably thinking I shouldn\u2019t have been such a smoker in my day. Well, once you hear my story, you might understand a bit better. I found the bottle at an old estate sale. It fit into the palm of my hand and was covered with ornate golden filigree. Upon further research, it appeared to be one of those Arabian perfume bottles. The previous owner was a rich businessman who collected souvenirs from his travels abroad. He\u2019d died suddenly of lung cancer and had no family to inherit his knickknacks.<\/span><\/p>\n

That bottle only cost me fifty cents, <\/span>fifty<\/span><\/i> cents I tell you, though now it’s probably worth more with inflation and all that nonsense. I\u2019m not sure why I bought it\u2014perhaps it was a piece of another world I would never get to see. Anywho, I\u2019m glad I did. When I got home, I opened the bottle to see if there was any perfume left. It had a strong musky smell, with undertones of jasmine. I only know that because I drink jasmine tea\u2014it\u2019s supposed to help you lose weight, you know. I almost didn\u2019t notice how the fire in the grate sparked to life\u2014keep in mind this is the middle of the summer\u2014until I heard his voice. \u2018Stupid, stupid, what were you thinking, opening my bottle like that? I was having a nice long\u2014say, is that tea?\u2019 The little man looked at me hopefully. He was about the height of a malnourished 12-year old, with the kind of weary eyes that would scare off any old fingersmith. And he was made entirely of living flames. He stepped out of the fireplace and stomped his little feet, leaving a dusting of ash on the floor. He made his way over to the table and drank the rest of my jasmine tea.<\/span><\/p>\n

I blurted out the first thing that came to mind: \u2018Are you a devil?\u2019 Eloquent, I know. The devil rolled his eyes in the manner of someone who got that question a lot and said he was not, in fact, a devil. \u2018I\u2019m a jinni,\u2019 he claimed. \u2018You mean a genie? Do you grant wishes?\u2019 I asked. The floor at his feet began to smoke, \u2018You Americans, you\u2019re always trying to rewrite other people\u2019s stories. No, I\u2019m not a genie. Genies don\u2019t exist, except as a figment of your imagination. I am a jinni, and we don\u2019t give away wishes for free. I am, however, willing to make you a deal.\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

At this point, I was beginning to doubt my sanity. I poured myself a glass of brandy to settle my nerves.\u201d Dr. O\u2019hare coughed slightly, and Ms. Oswald looked up from her story. \u201cAh, you think I was drunk. I assure you, I was not. When you\u2019re drunk, memories usually get hazy, but this memory is remarkably clear, even after so many years. That\u2019s how I know it was not a hallucination. I also have this,\u201d here she reached down her shirt front and pulled a chain from around her neck. Ms. Oswald held it out, and the doctor took it. Attached was a small metal sphere. He handed it back, and she put it to her lips, whispering, \u201cCarpe diem.\u201d Seize the day. She was left holding an empty chain, a scintillating, golden butterfly now hovering in front of her. With another, \u201cCarpe diem\u201d the butterfly returned to sphere form. Ms. Oswald explained, \u201cThe jinni gave me this, said it was my \u2018proof.\u2019 Then he went on yammering about how no one believed in magic anymore, they all wanted hard evidence, yada yada yada.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now, to the important part of the story. The jinni offered me a deal: if I could find his true name, he would grant me a wish. He claimed to have lost his true name centuries ago and was unable to change forms without it. That was why he lived in a bottle\u2014so every time someone opened it, he could make them a deal in exchange for his name.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Of course, no one had been able to find it yet. I didn\u2019t want to know what grisly end found those who broke the deal.<\/span><\/p>\n

Obviously, my first guess was Rumplestiltskin. The man just shook his head, grumbling \u2018Damn Rumplestiltskin, always stealing my thunder. He’s my second cousin twice removed on the European side, not even a jinni. Smarmy little bastard if there ever was one.\u2019 After that, I figured he probably had one of those newfangled made-up names parents use to make their children feel special. I could never guess all the made-up names, but I had one last card to play. I asked, \u2018What if I gave you my true name instead?\u2019 He just stared at me. \u2018I hadn\u2019t thought of that. It could work. Of course, it wouldn\u2019t be your name anymore, it would be mine.\u2019 And so I gave him my name in exchange for a wish. You look skeptical, doctor.\u201d The doctor did, indeed, look skeptical. \u201cDr. O\u2019hare, do you remember seeing my first name on the paperwork?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d the doctor answered.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was it?\u201d Here the doctor paused. What was her first name? He was certain he\u2019d seen it, but he couldn\u2019t remember it. He pulled out her file, but the name swam in his vision, and he could not read it. Ms. Oswald gave a knowing look. \u201cAs you can see, my name is gone. It is his now. Even I can\u2019t remember what it was. When it came time for the wish, I knew what I wanted: immortality. I want to know so much more than you can learn in a lifetime. I want to see life on other planets, to see the miraculous medicines we will create and the technology we will design. Life is a story, and I want to know how it ends.<\/span><\/p>\n

The jinni snapped his fingers and said I was immortal now. It was all very anticlimactic. I took to smoking after that\u2014after all, what\u2019s the harm? I even jumped off a bridge once, just to see what would happen. I broke both legs, but I survived. Of course, that was before I realized that I\u2019d asked for everlasting life, not everlasting youth. I grew older and my body began to wither. Now I can never escape the arthritis,\u201d she gave a bitter laugh. \u201cEveryone believes they\u2019re immortal to some degree. They think they\u2019ll live on through their ideas, their creations, their legacy. They think they’ll live forever in the afterlife, or be reincarnated. The difference is, I actually am\u2014immortal, that is. Long story short, I won\u2019t die of lung cancer.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo what happened to the bottle?\u201d was all the doctor could think to ask.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe bottle\u2014oh, the perfume bottle. Well, I kept it. The jinni was gone of course, but it was still a cool bottle. I\u2019m not sure where it is now, I haven\u2019t been able to find it. Must be in the attic somewhere\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The doctor almost laughed hysterically. Was he supposed to believe her story? She certainly seemed to believe it herself. Then again, there was the butterfly. And the name. What was he supposed to do now? If the patient refused treatment, he couldn\u2019t force them into it. Dr. O\u2019hare wondered if she had some sort of mental condition. Perhaps he should have her evaluated. But the butterfly\u2026 Ms. Oswald gave one last smile and walked out of the office.<\/span><\/p>\n

—<\/span><\/p>\n

It was months later, and Dr. O\u2019hare had almost forgotten the strange woman who\u2019d come to his office. There was a knock at the door. \u201cEnter,\u201d he called. A man in a black tux stepped inside.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDr. O\u2019hare, I have come on behalf of Ms. Oswald.\u201d The doctor merely blinked at him. \u201cShe left you this in her will,\u201d he pulled out the necklace with the strange metal sphere on it from his briefcase. Dr. O\u2019hare stared.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHer… will?\u201d The doctor asked. He\u2019d never stopped to consider why she had made a will if she thought herself immortal.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy apologies, I assumed you knew of her death.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHer death?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The man gave a strange look. \u201cYes, she passed away last week. She had lung cancer. I heard you were the one who diagnosed her.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes. Yes, I was.\u201d The man set the necklace on the desk. Dr. O\u2019hare examined it for a minute, then stood up. He had to see this for himself.<\/span><\/p>\n

The funeral was open casket. There were no friends or family there to weep for her, only the doctor and the man in the tux\u2014her lawyer. Ms. Oswald looked much the same in death as she had in life, her skin waxen. The doctor wondered what they would write on her tombstone. <\/span>Nameless Oswald. Crazy old bat. Beloved by no one.<\/span><\/i> That seemed like a good fit. He reached out a hand to touch her. Her fingers were cold as frost-bitten glass.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Her fingers were cold as frost-bitten glass. They twitched nervously in her lap, which was absurd because she had nothing to be nervous about. The doctor ushered her toward a chair, \u201cMs. Oswald, you might want to sit down for this.\u201d She arched an eyebrow. \u201cJust spit it out, young man. I don\u2019t need to… <\/p>\n

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