He closed the door, looking miffed. I sat on the floor, discouraged. Meowser was probably gone for good, even though he could not have gone far. Getting to the elevator at the end of the hall would be a long trek; he would never make it out of the building, and would be forced to forage for crumbs, if he survived at all. He was probably terrified, having no way to understand what had happened to him, and might have crawled into a crack somewhere, waiting to die.
The door next to ours opened, and Luci Baumgarten gazed out at me. “Jessie?”
“A contact. I’m looking for a contact.”
“I didn’t know you wore contacts. Listen, I just wanted to tell you – I’m having a party this Saturday, so come over if you want. I mean, come over if you want. You’re probably lonely with Alvin out of town.”
“I’ll think about it.” Luci and her roommate only invited us to parties when they were planning to have a mob over and didn’t want complaints about the noise.
Luci leaned against her door frame. “Is something wrong? I mean, is something wrong? You don’t look so good.”
“Oh, I’m fine.” I started crawling again, and spotted Meowser.
He was sprawling beside the molding, licking one paw. I could still see his look of feline self-satisfaction, tiny as he was. Afraid that Luci would see, I was very still, but kept my eyes on the cat. “Er, thanks for asking me,” I said without lifting my head, wishing that she would go back inside her apartment.
“I’ll see you.” Luci closed her door. Meowser was trotting away. I lunged, cupping one hand over him. He darted out from under my spread fingers and I caught him with my other hand, then got up and went back inside.
Meowser lay in my palm, seemingly unperturbed as I took him to the bedroom and deposited him inside the fence. Alvin ran to him, picked him up, and shook him. “Bad kitty,” he piped as he hugged him. “You’re such a bad old cat.”
“For God’s sake, keep the fence closed.” I sat down and picked up my drink; it was no longer cold, but I drank it anyway. “I don’t want to go through that again – Dan and Luci must think I’m nuts.”
“You mean they saw you?”
“I told them I was looking for a contact. They didn’t see Meowser, but that was just luck. I don’t know how long we can keep this up without somebody getting wise.” I sighed. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t kept bitching about money, you would never have come up with this idea.”
“I don’t know.” He picked up the megaphone. “I had the shrinker, and I probably would have tried it sooner or later, just out of curiosity.” He turned and walked back to the house. His voice, small and piping as it was, had also sounded distant and removed.
I was happier with our accounts by the end of the second month, though we had saved less than Alvin had optimistically predicted.
“Half of MasterCard is paid off,” I said when I had given Alvin the news. “Now all we have to worry about is the bank loan and Visa and our car payments. Look, can’t you enlarge yourself now? We still aren’t saving all that much, because the big bills don’t change. We still have to pay the same rent, and keep up the car, and all of that.”
Alvin pushed his manuscript aside and picked up the megaphone. “I’ve been thinking. If I stayed small, we could live in a smaller place when our lease runs out. Combine these savings with how we’re doing now, and it could add up over a longer period of time.”
I gaped at him. Being small had affected his reason. “Oh, no. I won’t stay married to a man your size. You can’t ask me to do that. Being married to a writer is bad enough.”
“I could enlarge myself once in a while. I wouldn’t be small all the time – just most of the time.”
“I can’t believe it. You should be dying to be large again. I don’t know how you stand it.”
“You get into it after a while.” He looked away for a moment. “I’ve had a lot of time to think lately. If you look at it a certain way, the scale of things doesn’t really change all that much. The universe is still just as vast, and the Earth is just as small in comparison, and all of us are just little creatures crawling over its surface. So being small reminds me of my own limitations – my own finitude. And on the other hand, I think I have more of a feeling for the tiny things that make up the whole – the birds, the ants, microorganisms, atoms.”
He paused for a moment and leaned back in his chair, resting his arm, then lifted the megaphone again. “I know it may seem strange to you, but sometimes I feel freer now than I did before. At first, I’d get a little depressed – missing my friends, being so dependent on you – but now, I feel freer. It’s as if everything outside has shrunk, instead of me, and I can see what’s really important for a change.”
I was stunned. My hand darted toward him reflexively until I remembered that I could not hug him. I drew away. “I’d better shrink you some Valium.”
“I don’t need it.” He went back to work, oblivious of my presence.
In the middle of the third month, I was preparing to leave work with the shrinker in my purse, and was terrified of being discovered.
Alvin had put me up to it. “You’ve got to do something for me,” he had said the night before.
“What is it now?” Keeping up his little house and cleaning up after him and the cat had become a chore. The house might be small, but the work seemed to grow – dusting, filling a little water pitcher, wiping off the floors, emptying wastebaskets, ashtrays, the toilet, and Meowser’s litter box while looking after the rest of the apartment and doing all the cooking and shopping. My work had not diminished, and the house was beginning to show signs of wear; the little toilet was stained and the furniture bore Meowser’s tiny scratches.
Alvin was in the little bathtub, into which I had poured warm water. He stepped out and dried himself with a piece of terrycloth, then tied it around his waist and went into his bedroom, picking up his megaphone. “I’m getting fat.”
“Oh, you certainly are. You must weigh a whole pound by now.”
He slapped his belly. “I am. My clothes don’t fit. It’s those damn chocolates you bring me. My jeans are too tight.”
“Go on a diet and write in the nude. No one’s going to see you.”
“I’ve been thinking. You could get me new clothes for nothing. I need some for when I go into New York with the book. And I could use some underwear too. My stuff is really getting ratty.”
“You can buy some when you’re done. You’re almost done with that book, aren’t you? You’d better be.”
He ignored my question. “You could take the shrinker to the store.”
“Oh, no.”
“You could shrink me everything I need, and it wouldn’t cost a dime. You could walk out with a wardrobe in your pocket, and they’d just write off the loss.”
“No. It’s impossible. If anyone sees me, we’re finished, and if anything happens to the shrinker–”
“You put it in your purse. Then you wait until the store closes, and you’re the last one to leave work. You go to men’s wear and you shrink the stuff and come home. I’ve been there when I’ve picked you up – it’ll be simple. No one would see you.”
“What if someone snatches my purse? You’d be small forever.”
“Just make sure they don’t. You can call a cab instead of taking the bus. It’ll be easy.”
“It isn’t worth it, not for clothes.” I shook my head. “And it won’t stop there. You’ll decide to shrink yourself a new car or a new TV set or some appliances. It’ll go on and on.”
“Well, it would save money. You have to admit that. And I’ve been thinking of renovating this house. If I stay small, I could–”
“You won’t stay small.” He backed away, dropping the megaphone and covering his ears. I lowered my voice. “I won’t do it. I’ve found out something lately. I don’t care about money as much as I used to – I just want my peace of mind.”
But he had talked me into it anyway. I marveled at that as I went to my locker, rem
oved my purse, and clutched its precious contents to my chest. A man five inches tall could still tell me what to do. I had been nervous all day, and the other clerks in cosmetics had been giving me strange looks.
I dawdled until the room was empty, then hurried up to the first floor. The aisles were clear. Darting toward the escalator, I ran up the now stationary steps to the second floor, and the men’s department. I had timed things well; the guards would soon be locking the doors, and I would have to ask one to let me out, but in the meantime I had the second floor to myself.
Alvin was right; it would be easy. Someone would notice that the clothes were missing, but suspicion could hardly fall on me. The security guard would see that I was unencumbered. I went to the suits, selected a three-piece number in gray wool, and took out my shrinker.
I had charged it up before leaving; it could be used only five times. I held up the suit, shrank it, and put it in my purse. Going to coats, I pulled out a London Fog, then went to shirts, pulled out a few, and shrank the lot. It was child’s play; I had been right about the temptation. I was becoming a thief and would soon look for bigger heists. I considered the possibilities – Brink’s trucks, jewelry stores, art galleries – there was no limit, and we could easily hide the stolen goods. We would be rich. If the police came after us, we could shrink them.
I almost laughed out loud. The world was ours. Alvin and I could be the biggest people in it. I was exasperated with myself for worrying so much, wasting time in self-pity when I could have been building a fat nest egg.
I had three beams of power left. I pulled out three pairs of jeans, selected three ties and some cuff links, and aimed the shrinker. The beam shot out and the clothes contracted with a slight pop. I pushed the button, and the lever clicked up.
“Hey!”
I gasped, almost dropping the shrinker. Harley Stein of appliances was at the far end of the aisle, striding toward me from the elevator. I almost panicked, but managed to stay calm enough to scoop up the tiny clothes and stuff them into my coat pocket before he came closer.
I struggled with my purse, trying to conceal the shrinker, as Harley came up to me. “You’re here late, Jessie – you lose something, too?”
“Yeah.” I was wrestling with the shrinker, which refused to go into my purse. “Er, I thought I lost an earring up here.”
“Did you find it?”
“No.” I was flustered, and could feel my face turning red.
“What is that? A laser toy or something?” He had seen the beam. I stepped back. “Let me see it.”
“Oh, you don’t want to see it, Harley. It’s only a toy.” I held the shrinker to my chest, ready to run.
“Come on.” He grinned his boyish smile. “That beam was cool. What is it, one of those Star Trek jobs?” He grabbed the shrinker, pulling it out of my hands. “Fire photon torpedoes.” He waved it around while I ducked from side to side, fearful of an accidental shot.
“Give it back.”
He went into a crouch. “Klingon approaching. Beam me up, Scotty. Show me how it works.”
“Damn it, Harley, give it back.” I seized the shrinker and pulled too hard. One side hit my arm, releasing the switch.
The beam struck Harley and he shrank. There was a pop and he was suddenly a tiny little man, a bit shorter than Alvin, but then Harley was only five-six.
Somehow, I kept my wits. Aiming the shrinker, I lifted the switch, and Harley stood before me again, back to his normal size. He was very pale; his mustache twitched as he sagged toward me. I caught him with one arm while managing to put the shrinker into my purse with the other. I had used all its stored power, and it was now harmless.
“Whooo,” Harley said. “You’ll never believe it. You and the whole store suddenly expanded. Whoo. I’m going nuts.”
“I’ll help you downstairs.”
“Whoo.” He wiped his face with one sleeve. “It must have been an acid flash. I thought they went away after a while – I haven’t done any dope in years, not even grass.” He clung to my arm. “Maybe you could call me a cab – I’m afraid to drive home.”
“You and your clothes,” I said, dropping the load inside Alvin’s fence. “You don’t know what a close call I had.” I told him the story. “What if I hadn’t had enough power to enlarge him again? I was already down to my last two beams. ” I shook as I thought of it, and had to sit down.
Alvin came out of the house and picked through the clothes. “Nice stuff.” He stood up. “But you didn’t get the underwear.”
“The hell with the underwear.” Alvin covered his ears. “Enlarging Harley was more important. I’ll buy you some underwear. I’m never going through that again.”
He cupped his hands. “Stop hollering. And don’t panic. It was a fluke that Harley was there late. You’ll do better next time.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time. I’m not going to listen to you anymore, you and your dumb ideas. I’ve been listening to you too long.” My resentments poured from me; I had been holding them back too long. “I work at a crummy job all day so you can write, and all you do is run up bills and then shrink yourself. And now you’ve got me stealing for you. I won’t do it anymore. I’m sick of catering to you and your book, I’m sick of emptying your toilet and cleaning up after you. I’m just about ready for a divorce, if you want to know. I’m sure I’d get one, too. Having a husband five inches tall has to be grounds.”
“You’re being irrational,” he piped.
“I’m not irrational.” I jumped to my feet. “You are.”
“Shut up and listen to me. I finally have a good plan, and you won’t back me up.”
“No! I don’t have to listen to you now – I’m bigger than you.” I waved my arms wildly. “You can go to hell.”
“Jessie, will you calm down?” He shook a tiny fist at me. “You’re getting all worked up. You don’t know how ugly that big pan of yours looks.”
“I don’t care!” And with those words, I brought my fist down on the dresser.
I stared at my hand in horror, unable to move. “Alvin? Alvin?” What had I done? The space in front of the dollhouse was empty, my tiny husband downed with one blow. I couldn’t bring myself to lift my arm and view the crushed and mangled body. I was a murderer. I would go to the police and confess. Maybe I would be shrunk and forced to do time in a tiny prison with other little inmates. It would be a fitting punishment, and the authorities would at last have a way to deal with the shortage of prison space. I no longer cared what happened to the rest of the world.
During these ruminations, I gradually became aware that I could feel nothing under my fist. Slowly, I lifted my hand. Alvin’s body wasn’t there.
“Alvin?” I whimpered.
The sofa inside the living room moved, and he peered out over the top. Somehow he had dodged my fist and made for the house. He stood up and tilted his head to one side.
“I’m plugging in that shrinker,” I said, “and then I’m enlarging you whether you want it or not.”
This time, he didn’t argue with me.
When Alvin had finished his book, we went out to the country, driving along dirt roads until we came to an empty piece of land.
Alvin took out the box. He carried it into the field while I followed with a shovel. He set down the box and I opened it.
We had taken the shrinker apart. Only small pieces and fragments were left. We buried the pieces in separate spots; they would not be found for a long time, and I doubted that anyone could put them back together again.
As we walked back to the car, Alvin said, “Do you mind?”
I thought of our bills and all the riches we would never be able to steal. “I mind a little. I’m not going to say I don’t.”
“I could always make a book out of it. A novel about a little guy.”
I said, “I think it’s already been done.”
Thumbprints
At first the story sounded like another case of graveyard vandalism. I had covered suc
h an incident only a month ago, when a few students from a local high school had tipped over several tombstones in the same cemetery.
“You say that the grave was disturbed,” I said to Todd Thorsten, wondering why he had called me instead of the police. “Was the marker defaced?”
“There is no marker.” Todd stared at me through his rimless glasses, looking more like a pudgy graduate student than a funeral director. “You wouldn’t think anyone had done anything to the grave at all, which is why I didn’t call the police.”
That probably accounted for Todd’s sounding so mysterious, and telling me that he didn’t want to discuss the matter over the phone. We had parked our cars by the gate, because I didn’t particularly care to meet him inside the cemetery. I leaned against my car, waiting for Todd to go into more detail.
“How did you find out?” I said at last. “Did the caretaker here call you?”
“Oh, no. He doesn’t know anything about it. Nobody does, except me and now you. I found out about the grave when–” He sighed. “When I went there to pay my respects.”
“It’s the grave of someone you know?”
“Yes, Shanna, it is. My brother is buried there.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Your brother? You mean Dechen Thorsten?”
“Of course I mean Dechen. He’s the only brother I have – had.”
“And he’s buried here?”
“Yes,” Todd replied. “The only people at the burial were his agent, the gravediggers, and my wife and me. We thought it was better to keep it quiet so that we didn’t have a mob showing up at the service.”
Dechen Thorsten, I thought, remembering when the memoir of his chaotic childhood in Nepal with his expatriate parents, A Towering Work of Everest and Brilliance, had appeared on bookstore shelves and had rapidly ascended the bestseller lists. I had been working for the local Barnes & Noble at the time and was unable to escape the sight of Thorsten’s tome, which was prominently featured in a display just inside the bookstore’s entrance for nearly six months. By then I should have been used to displays devoted to authors who had scaled heights closed to those of us who seemed forever doomed to wander publishing’s foothills. Our previous bestselling volume, Kevin’s Game, had been the latest novel by Cormac O’Malley, a native of Wilsey who had abandoned the town for digs in Los Angeles over two decades earlier but continued to turn out critically acclaimed novels about a town almost exactly like Wilsey. It hadn’t escaped me that, however much affection O’Malley showed for the place in his books, he had moved three thousand miles away as soon as he had the means to do so.
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