Jesus fumbles with the door. There are two handles. It is very confusing, even for the son of God.
There are two hands on my knees and I feel very much like the light the evening sun pushes through the window shades.
"You have to pull in on it." I say. "I know it seems like it would be the other way around, but you have to pull on the door as you turn the bottom handle to the right"
He opens the door, peeks around the corner and then brings himself back into the room.
"I'd never seen your hallway." he says
The sun set an hour ago. From the second story windowsill the street is caster orange striped in black shadow. No one is out tonight. The street stands abandoned like some giant lifeless tiger.
Jesus wanders over to where I stand at the window and starts massaging my shoulders. He diggs in hard and I know he is joking.
"I'm joking." he says. He pauses as if waiting for the joke to kick in. Then pats my back. "That's a joke too."
I exhale and watch a lone elderly man cross the street. He waddles like a turtle. Within minutes the man is out of sight and a street light flickers off.
"How'd the tiger lose his stripes?" I ask the devil knows.
I am frustrated in attempts to sound unakward.
"What?" the Devil says.
He is still across the room, typing on an old remington typewriter. He has been over there for more than an hour now. The mid-day sun has heated up the floorboards and the cool of the morning has faded into memory. The room emits the slow wheeze of an old building. The Devil sits poking at the keypad like a scavinging bird at a carcus.
"I didn't say anything" I say.
These words seem to break the trance the old keyboard has over him. The Devil looks over at Jesus for confirmation.
Jesus shakes his head.
"He didn't," He says.
All it takes to walk to the window from here is twentyone paces. I can almost hear the Friday night kids even at this late hour. A man sits across from the turtle aquiriam throwing little pieces of old bread into the water. This is Jesus Christ, son of man, in the flesh, in my room. He is wearing a vaguely native american vest, turqoise and leather with tassles. He has a cigarette perched on the edge of the ashtray that miracously stays lit while he waits minutes between drags. Basically he is just as amazing as you would expect. And on top of all this, he's really really nice.
Satan kills a fly. Jesus and I are both watching him when he turns to see if someone was looking.
"It was annoying."
Jesus and I exchange looks. The devil. What a character. One minute he is retiling the bathroom with some kit he bought from a puerto rican around the corner. The next hour he is staring morously out the window chain smoking top cigarettes with little filters he carefully wrapped at the tips.
Which reminds me. Jesus smokes American Spirit and once in a while Nat Sherman. The devil smokes Top and occasionally breaks out a Marlboro Red. I feel like I could not be surrounding myself with more disparate apartment friends.
I bum a cigarette off Jesus and toss an old gum wrapper at the Devil. He looks up at us. His neck holds his head loosely like a crane bobbing his head. A sk ateboarder rides by on the street below. I take a drag off the cigarette.
"This tastes like shit," I say.
Jesus is busy looking at a poster. A swan with vibrant colors soars over snow white mountains. Next to the swan is a bald eagle. You can see sweatmarks on the bald of the eagle..
The image is photoshopped but very well done.
"Where is this from?"
"Amsterdam." I lie.
"You should go to the party." Satan says. "think about it. You really only have a few years to screw up. You are 24 once." The devil looks over at Jesus. "Lord knows you can't fuck up when you're in thirties." he pauses. "But your twenties, we invented them for getting high." The last word the devil says falsetto.
I'm nervous about the future.
"One must learn to get over one's self." the Devil says. "That's chapter 1."
Should I have had sex? She's a friend, I tell myself. I could risk her friendship
He is sitting on the edge of the bed skimming over an old hard cover book.
"These titles," he says, "are totally ridiculous. 'Love is an entity.' Who wrote this?"
"A New Age spiritual guru" says Jesus. "Swami Bakti Guru."
"He's right" I say. "I tore the cover up because it was badly designed but I thought there were some real gems of wisdom in there."
"Are you fucking kidding me"
"What? I was only twenty three."
"You are twenty four now!"
"Yeah. And much wiser." I say, "World weary, yes I admit. But you have to say that I'm much more sane."
Jesus looks up. "I can't really judge. I didn't know you until a few weeks ago."
"I always saw you around, but really me either." Satan says. "you always seemed natural, I guess."
Natural? What the fuck is that supposed to mean, I think to myself. On well, these guys will never understand me. Also, and I say this out loud, "Also, what the fuck guys. You've known me for years. Don't fuck with my readers!"
I'm upset at my stagnation. "I'm jealous of all the things you have done, Jesus." I say and immediately regret it.
Jesus looks at me with a toothbrush in his mouth. The devil comes to my defense.
"You get shit done when it comes down to it. You pay your bills. eventually. Look, you know responsibility. Buy you reject it. It's a political statement. Robots should be doing housekeeping. It's a futurists statement. You simply refuse to live in the past."
Without breaking a beat Jesus jumps into the conversation.
"The present is almost always becoming the past. So you are just one step ahead of the game."
"Words of wisdom says" the devil.
"Get your mind off this. Go skateboard."
"Maybe we'll even clean a little. Says the devil."
"Thanks guys."
My apartment is such a mess
"No way!" says the devil.
"What a beautiful night," Jesus says.
"Yes, Yes" says the devil. "And such small servings."
Christ can't stand the sight of Satan this evening. He keeps going on about the black and white.
"Where are the colors! Don't you have any fun. Are you always all business?" Jesus looks to me for encouragement but I just shrug my shoulders.
"the devil likes the dialectic." Satan says revering to himself in the third person.
"Is that the first time you've referred to yourself in the third person?" I ask.
The devil grins. "I'm not really sure... I think so!" he gushes. His face turns a rosy color.
"I don't mean sex." says Jesus.
What about eternal life, I think to myself.
"Do you think we can have sex with multiple partners in heaven?" Asks the devil. He is wearing my leather jacket and cutting Jesus's hair.
"Are you uncomfortable?" I ask.
I'm never uncomfortable I think, for the Room
Jesus keeps playing with my drill. He is repeatedley screwing and unscrewing a ridiculously long screw into a 2x4.
"Why is the sky purple?" I ask.
"Because it's morning" answers the devil.
He is wearing a fedora and keeps fixing his skinny black tie in the miror.
He turns to me. "How do I look" he says.
"Fuckable" says Jesus.
Jesus motions for me to sit down. The apartment is dusty from earlier renovations the devil made.
"I want you to go to 92 prince. Take this key. You'll probably use it. Go to the basement. You'll know what to do. Remember, always remember me."