Destiny's Gamble

Anti-Manik

I watch as Manik is dragged towards another ride by Keith. This side of the Devil is making me smile like a fool. No matter how hard I try I'm unable to erase the grin off my face. In fact, calling him a Devil now feels strange. The two-horned evil doesn't play around with children, as if he's having the time of his life. He doesn't have whiskers and a black nose drawn onto his face to look like a tiger, just because his little friend requested him to get face-painted.

"Come join us!" Keith calls out to me, waving me over. I jog over to them, as he and Manik seat themselves on a dinosaur shaped ride. "There's place for one more. Come sit." I oblige without a word of protest. As I'm about to get on, Manik's left hand shoots out to help me into the ride. I swear I don't know this man who has come to the fair with me. This isn't the Manik I know because this one screams like a girl in a haunted house, buys me candy floss, and acts like a jealous husband. He also becomes a child when hanging out with one, and entertains him simply because his friend isn't here.

"Thanks," I say, as I seat myself. Keith and Manik are seated next to each other, while I'm sitting opposite them. I'm suddenly quite conscious about my legs because they're making direct contact with Manik's. Since the legroom is a bit tight, considering this ride is meant for children and not child-adults like us, my legs are in between his.

Although this situation is seeming to affect me, Manik is one hundred percent not bothered. He's too busy having the time of his life to care much about the state of our legs. Why am I fussing over it then? I mean, it is a petty issue. At times I really marvel at the woman I become when Manik is involved. 

*****

"Everyone's got a lunchbox, right?" I ask just to make sure, even though I know the answer because there are only two left - for Manik and myself. I get no answer, which means all the children are stuffing their faces with food. Okay, that's good.

"Here," I say, holding a box out towards Manik. He stares at it unsurely and then back up at me. I give it a light shake. "Take it."

"I don't eat food made by your hands," he grumbles, looking the other way. And here resurfaces the Devil. 

"We're in a park with nothing else available. Eat it this one time and never swallow another bite of food made by me again in your life." I pull up Manik's left hand with my free one, and place the box on it. "Or don't eat, but just give me company while I pig out." Huffing dramatically, as if I've asked a huge favor from him, Manik lowers himself onto the grass. Why is he such a drama queen? 

Manik places the box on his thighs, leaning back against his outstretched arms. Keith is sitting a few feet away from us, a book propped up in front of his face. 

"He's a good kid." I say, nodding towards him.

"Yes," Manik agrees. "And a fighter." I turn my head to rest my eyes on my husband. He's watching his little friend with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"You know a lot about these children. It's as if you share a close bond with each of them." Seeing Manik around these little ones - the way he behaves with them as if they're his entire world - opens my heart up to him even more. He's a good man because only those with compassion treat these innocent souls with such care and justice.

"They're my family," Manik says matter-of-factly. "All of us have been abandoned courtesy of bad luck, or fucked up parents. I say it's quite the factor to bond over." He yanks open the top of the plastic lunchbox, his eyes still gazing off into the distance. Although his orbs are resting on Keith, I doubt he's watching the child. Manik takes out the plastic wrapped fork, tearing it through its confines. He digs the cutlery piece into the lasagna as if he's impaling a human with a spear.