SHUDDERVILLE

by Mia Zabrisky

  Sophie scowled. Anybody could buy a fake newspaper nowadays.

  He flipped through the photo album until he came to a picture of Mandelbaum looking much younger than he did today. “My apartment in Back Bay. 1966. He was my next-door neighbor. One wish, he said. I thought about it long and hard. I could’ve asked for anything. But I was young and stupid, so I told him I never wanted to die. It was the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life. Think about it, Sophie. Would you want to live forever and watch everyone you care about pass away before you?”

  She said sourly, “I just did.”

  “Sorry. I’m just saying. I never age. Not a day. Not a minute. Immortality is overrated. As a matter of fact, it sucks.”

  “You’re crazier than he is!” she said, getting up and storming out.

  He followed her into the hallway. “Look, I was as mixed up as you are, Sophie. I thought he was joking. I thought he was kidding around, but he wasn’t. He’s dead serious. He can do it. The guy’s for real. He’s for real! Don’t fall for it!”

  She opened the heavy fire door and ran down the stairwell to the underground garage, where she could still hear him shouting behind her, “He’s the Devil, Sophie! The Devil!”

  *

  She drove to a cramped little bar on the east side of town called Stellini’s Hourglass Lounge, where stiff red curtains covered the windows and the university students played pool out back. The noisy kitchen served hamburgers and ribs and the air was dense with barbeque smoke. Sophie chose a quiet booth in back, got out her mobile phone and called Cassie. “We have to talk,” she said.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m cracking up. I’m at Stellini’s.”

  “Be there in fifteen minutes.”

  When Cassie arrived, they ordered a pitcher of beer.

  “What’s wrong, Sophie? You look terrible.”

  “Mandelbaum is psychotic. He knows all sorts of private things about me. Like what happened the day of the accident. Details. It’s freaking me out. Look at my hands, they’re shaking.”

  “Somebody must’ve told him,” Cassie said, reaching for a reasonable explanation.

  “There’s no way he could’ve known. And Ryan’s crazy, too. Do you know what he said? He thinks he’s immortal.”

  Cassie laughed. “Are you sure he didn’t say immoral?”

  She shook her head fiercely, eyes wet with tears. “Mandelbaum offered to grant me one wish, Cassie. He said I could have anything I wanted.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s Alzheimer’s.”

  “What about Ryan?”

  “Honey, calm down.” Cassie cupped her chin in her hand. “Want a cigarette?”

  Sophie nodded. “They’re both insane. Maybe I should call the police?”

  “Ryan’s just messing with you,” Cassie said matter-of-factly.

  “You think?”

  “Yeah.” She took out a pack of cigarettes and made a big deal out of handing one to Sophie, flicking her lighter and holding the flame up to Sophie’s cigarette. Then she lit her own cigarette with a dramatic gesture. She put the lighter away and rested her hands on the table.

  “Ryan said he met Mandelbaum back in 1966 and made a wish—and now he can’t die. He said he asked for immortality. He called Mandelbaum the Devil. And it kind of makes sense now, because how else could he know every detail, every gesture, as if he’d been there? All those intimate details nobody could’ve possibly known about me, and now…” She had to stop and catch her breath. She suddenly noticed the diamond ring on Cassie’s finger. “Cass, what the fuck?”

  “I’m getting married!” she squealed with delight.

  “Really?” It stopped her cold. “Congratulations.”

  They hugged.

  “Isn’t it exciting?” She flashed the diamond ring. She held out her left hand and proudly examined the ring on her third finger.

  “Wow.” Sophie plucked another cigarette from the pack on the bar and lit it, drawing deeply until her lungs hurt. “So who’s the lucky guy?”

  Cassie laughed. “Billy, of course. We made up. He’s such a sweetheart. I realized how much I loved him. I mean, this is true love we’re talking about here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Cassie laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “But you just slept with Ryan.”

  “That was a mistake. I don’t want Billy finding out about it, either.” She took a sip of beer and smiled coyly. “The sex was pretty good, though. With Ryan. You know?”

  “No, I don’t know, Cassie. I read somewhere that when a woman doesn’t have sex in a very long time, her vagina tightens up and becomes like a virgin’s, except for the missing hymen.”

  “You wish.” Cassie smiled ironically. “Imagine me? Tying the knot?”

  Sophie couldn’t remember when she’d felt so betrayed, as if Cassie had snatched the rug right out from under her, as if she’d stolen her future. She didn’t understand why she felt this way. She couldn’t explain it. “Are you sure about this? I mean, you’ve only known each other for, what… eight months?”

  “Wow, I’ve got stereo mothers.”

  “I’m just saying…”

  “Don’t say anything, Sophie. Okay? Please? It’s fate.”

  “Hey, as long as you’re sure.”

  “Aren’t you happy for me?”

  “Of course I’m happy for you, Cass.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled, then looked at her friend with grave concern and said, “Now let’s focus on you.” She took a worried breath. “You’ve got to stop drinking, Sophie. Cold turkey. And no more pot. Understand? It’s time to let go of the past.”

  Sophie rubbed her tired eyes. “I know. I know.”

  “Go back to your therapist. She really helped you once, didn’t she?”

  She nodded lethargically. “I guess so, yeah.”

  “And listen. Don’t worry.” She reached for Sophie’s hand and squeezed. “You’ll find somebody soon.”

  She drew back abruptly. “Who says I’m looking?”

  “I know, but seriously… don’t you want another child some day?”

  She stared at Cassie a breathless beat.

  “Oh my God. That was dumb. I’m sorry.”

  Sophie withdrew into an icy silence.

  “I didn’t mean to say that, sweetie. Do you forgive me?”

  What Cassie didn’t understand, what she would never understand, was that Sophie had already found perfection, and her name was Jayla. Sophie had once been the mother of absolute perfection, and that opportunity didn’t come along twice in a lifetime. There would be no encores. She refused to have any more children. And Mandelbaum was wrong—it was her fault. At least, it was partly her fault. For the longest time, she’d ignored Peter’s drinking. She should’ve seen the accident coming years before it happened. She should have done more to protect her daughter. She should have gotten a restraining order or moved away or changed their names. But instead, she’d stupidly let him come into the house that day. Why? Couldn’t she see how drunk he was? Why had she let him inside? Why didn’t she lock the doors and call the cops? She had failed, she was an unfit mother, and you didn’t trust a parade of babies to such ignorant arms.

  *

  The next morning, Sophie started drinking early enough so she was hammered by noon. It was funny. She never used to drink—Peter did. She never touched the hard stuff, but she wasn’t a tea-totaler. She’d have a glass of wine once in a while. But ever since the accident she hadn’t been able to control herself. Alcohol was the quickest way to numb the pain.

  Now she stared at her old therapist’s phone number, written on a piece of scrap paper, but each time she picked up her phone and got ready to dial her number, she would find some excuse to hang up. “Coward,” she grumbled.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Sophie ignored it.

  “Hello?” Mandelbaum shouted. He knocked until she gave in.

  She swung the door open. “W
hat do you want?”

  “Are you up for a walk, young lady?”

  Sophie blinked at him, infuriated.

  “Right to the store and back?” He wedged his foot inside before she could get the door closed. “Come on. It’s a beautiful day.”

  “I can’t.” She tried to squeeze the door shut, but he was stronger than he looked.

  “Why not, for Pete’s sake?” He leaned against the door with his shoulder and poked her in the stomach with the end of his cane.

  She grabbed the wooden cane and made him stop. “What is this? Some kind of a sick joke?” They tussled for a bit, dragging the cane back and forth between them.

  “No joke,” he said, retrieving his cane with a surprising burst of energy and shoving his way inside.

  Sophie gave up and stumbled backwards, working her fingers over her temples. “What the hell do you want?”

  “It’s not what I want that matters, Sophie. It’s what you want that counts.”

  She laughed angrily. “Okay, fine. I want to know how you know all these things about me? Who’s feeding you my personal business? I want to know why you keep bothering me?”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I can’t blame you for being upset. I don’t blame you for being confused. I’d be happy to answer your questions, if only you’d take a short walk with me. The fresh air will do you some good.”

  “No.”

  “No?” He shrugged and retreated back into the hallway. “Are you sure?”

  “Go to hell!” She slammed the door in his face and burst into tears. She sobbed for a full minute before catching her breath, changing her mind and throwing the door open. He was still standing there. “Fine,” she said furiously.

  “Great. I have to pick up some eggs at the market.”

  They trudged slowly past brick buildings and bus benches, storefronts and weed-choked lots. The grocery store was only ten blocks away, but it felt like 100. Tobias wore a brown cowboy hat and a pair of red-and-white cowboy boots that emphasized his John Wayne limp—except that John Wayne never used a cane. Sophie wore a hideous lilac jogging outfit with a sunny yellow visor pulled down low over her eyes. Her hair stuck out all over like the feathers of a baby bird. She didn’t care how she looked anymore.

  “You remind me of someone,” Mandelbaum said. He took off his hat to wipe his brow and the morning sunlight revealed the contours of his skull through his thinning white hair. “Something about the way you bite your fingernails.”

  She stopped biting her thumbnail.

  “And you have the same lovely soprano as…” His voice trailed off and he slid the cowboy hat back on.

  “Who? The same lovely voice as who?” she asked impatiently.

  “Estelle. My wife of eleven years. God rest her soul.”

  “I thought you said it was 42? Your wife of 42 years?”

  “Did I?” He frowned. “No. She died 42 years ago.”

  Sophie figured he was confused and didn’t want to embarrass him further.

  They waited at the intersection for the light to change.

  “I know a few things,” he said after a moment.

  “Excuse me?”

  Tobias held her eye. “For instance, I know you’re not a happy person.”

  Her heart began to pound uncomfortably hard in her chest.

  “You think I didn’t notice all those liquor bottles in your apartment the other day? Am I supposed to be stupid just because I’m old?”

  Her heart thundered in her ears, the bluntness of his remarks wounding her.

  “I’m worried about you.” His voice seemed to be coming from far away.

  “Nobody asked you to worry about me.”

  “We can’t help who we worry about. So? What’re you going to do? Sit in that apartment all day watching TV? Getting drunk all by your lonesome?”

  “None of your business!” Sophie shouted. She lowered her voice. “It’s none of your business what I do in my apartment all day.”

  “Too bad the Olympics are over,” Mandelbaum said. “You could win the sit-on-your-atholon. Ha, ha.”

  She stared at him, not knowing whether to laugh or scream.

  “What happened to you, Sophie, has happened to so many other people throughout the ages,” he said, piercing through her defensive armor. “The loss is so devastating, it’s made you crawl into your shell, but you’ve crawled so far into your shell you think that you’re invisible. I’ve seen it so many times, but pretending you’re invisible doesn’t work. People can still see you. I can still see you. You exist. You can’t pretend that you don’t.”

  Suddenly everything was swallowed in whiteness. Her vision buzzed with the sun-struck brilliance of the day. Mandelbaum and the buildings behind him grew more and more blinding with every breath she took.

  She turned and ran the eight or nine blocks back to their apartment complex. Mica sparkled on the sidewalk, the chipped bricks bled rust red, the greasy doorknob slipped in her hand, her feet kicked up dust motes on the stair treads, she gasped for air… at last, she slammed the door shut, safe and sound in her own apartment, and closed her eyes against the dusty silence whirling all around her.

  *

  Sophie stayed in her apartment for as long as she could, avoiding the neighbors and getting quietly drunk. A few days passed. Then she had to do a load of laundry.

  Down in the basement, just as she was about to remove her clothes from the dryer, Ryan approached her, looking more solemn than usual.

  “Excuse me,” she said coldly, attempting to flee, but he blocked her path.

  “You don’t believe me? Okay. Watch this.” He took a knife out of his pocket, unsheathed it and sliced one of his wrists right in front of her.

  Sophie screamed as arterial blood sprayed across the cement walls and Ryan collapsed to the floor. “Oh my God!” She grabbed a T-shirt out of her laundry basket and pressed it against his wrist, then found her phone and was about to dial 911 when he reached out and stopped her.

  “Don’t,” he said, eyelids fluttering.

  “But you’ll bleed to death!”

  “No, I won’t. Look.”

  She followed his gaze. The blood spatters were coalescing on the walls, worming together and gathering speed as they trickled down toward the floor, where they formed puddles that jiggled and bounced and moved along of their own volition, spilling across the cement toward Ryan like a thousand ants, swarming and crawling back to base camp. The blood pooled around Ryan’s left hand and, defying gravity, oozed up from the floor like amoebas on a glass slide, and sucked back into his open veins, slurping and disappearing into the gaping wound.

  “See?” he said thinly. “Told you. I can’t die.”

  She couldn’t believe her eyes.

  He sat up slowly. “I know this comes as a shock, Sophie.”

  “You think?”

  “I know it seems impossible, but you can’t deny it anymore.” He stumbled to his feet and rubbed his wrist—there wasn’t even a scar left behind to show that anything had happened. “Things exist in the real world that most of us aren’t aware of. I’m a testament to that fact. So is Tobias.”

  She was speechless. He looked just like a normal person.

  “Now listen, I’ve been thinking.” His face grew soft as he pleaded with her. “I’ve been following Tobias around for a couple of decades, trying to get him to reverse my stupid wish. I’ve tried just about everything, and he won’t do it. But you could help me, Sophie.”

  “How?” she barely breathed.

  “I may not look it, but I’m a pretty rich cat. I’ve got lots of money stashed away, and here’s what I’ll do. If you use your wish to help me become mortal again, then I’ll give you all my money. I wouldn’t need it anymore. I’d probably just keel over on the spot. Would you do that for me?”

  She nodded slowly.

  His eyes lit up. “You will? Seriously? Wow, that’s great. Seriously?”

  “Sure.” She left her clothes in the dryer and moved towar
d the stairs. “I’ll get back to you.”

  *

  Sophie raced up the stairs, locked herself in her apartment and tried to catch her breath. Okay. What had just happened here? What had she witnessed with her own eyes? A miracle? A hoax? A hallucination? Was it true? All of it? She couldn’t stop thinking that her worldview had just been radically altered. She was in shock, cold and shivering, but she felt more alive than she’d felt in ages. Ever since the accident. Could it be? Was it possible? One wish? Should she do it? Should she take a chance? Why not? What did she have to lose?

  She already knew what her wish would be, and it had nothing to do with Ryan or his money. It took her a while to gather her courage. She poured herself a drink. And then another. Once her nerves had settled and the world had taken on a comfortable blurriness, she felt safe enough to confront the impossible. She inhaled slowly, stood unsteadily on her feet, and went to unlock the front door. Yes, she thought. Why not? One wish was all she needed. One little wish.

  She went out into the hallway, straightened her clothes and smoothed her hair, then knocked on Mandelbaum’s door. “Hello?” she said. “Hello?”

  Nobody answered.

  “It’s me, Sophie. I want to talk to you. Mr. Mandelbaum?”

  Still no answer.

  She pounded on the door. “Hello? Tobias? I’ve decided to take you up on your offer.”

  The door swung open. “So you’ve thought about it, have you?” He stood peering up at her. The cowboy hat was gone, and so were the cowboy boots. Instead he wore a pair of old slippers and a smoking jacket, cinched at the waist. His face was taut and drawn, and some of his white hair was sticking to his sweaty scalp. “You’ve thought about this long and hard?”

  She couldn’t stand it any longer. What did she have to lose? “Yes,” she said. “I’m ready.”