They said they thought I was dead. Perhaps I am. I can no
longer recall.
Still and all, it was necessary to observe the formalities.
"Were
you always like this?"
"Like what?"
"A madman. With a time machine."
"Oh, no. It took ages until I got the time machine."
In March I received three pieces of junk mail, the first telling me I might have already won
a million dollars, the second telling me that I might already have been elected to the Academie
Francaise, and the last telling me I might already have been installed as the titular head of
the Holy Roman Empire.
My Mum wanted to name me Susan. My Dad wanted to name me Henrietta, after his
aunt. Neither of them would budge an inch. I am the only Susietta in my school
or, probably, anywhere. My sister's name is Alismima, for similar reasons.
Several days later, it was returned to me by a taxi driver, who had found it on
the pavement outside the cafe. He told me my mother had appeared to him in
a dream and given him my address and her recipe for old-fashioned cheesecake.
She asked me when I had started feeling a need to grant people's wishes, and
whether I felt a desperate need to please. She asked me about my mother, and
I told her that she could not judge me as she would judge mortals, for I was
a djinn, powerful and wise, magical and mysterious.