Strange Perceptions (25 page)

After dinner I made to leave, giving the excuse I needed to go to work early in the morning. A small, white lie. I’m the receptionist at Feldworth Media, the number one rated advertising agency in the Chicago area for six years running, according to Bruntington’s annual survey. As lowly receptionist, I never needed to be early.

I grabbed my purse and coat from the hall closet’s doorknob.

“Don’t forget your present,” mom said.

I grabbed the shoebox with the weird little doll, thanked my parents and left. I tossed the shoebox and my purse in the passenger seat of my Corolla.

On the road, heading back to my apartment off of East Lake Ave in Glendale, I heard a small voice say “Don’t take Golf Road, there’s a traffic jam.”

What? I turned down “Hey Jude” on the radio and listened. Nothing. I must have been imagining it. Tired. Too many late nights watching Jimmy Fallon. I got off the Skokie Highway onto Golf Road and immediately regretted it. Cars were at a standstill. There must be an accident.

“Told ya,” said the small voice again.

I looked around. The shoebox lid had slid off and the little mannequin stood, elbows propped on the edge, face in hands, looking at me. Or would be looking at me, had it any eyes.

I jerked back and let out a little “eep.” Had traffic been moving I probably would’ve crashed my car.

“Okay, Toots,” said the voice, “let’s get this part over with. You’re not crazy. Yes, I’m talking. My name’s not Chuckie and I’m not going to hurt you.”

The car ahead of me moved forward. I didn’t.

“Try breathing,” it said. “In out, in out. There. Isn’t that better?”

The driver behind me laid on his horn. I looked into my rear-view mirror and pulled forward a few feet before the driver let up on the horn. Jerk.

I looked at the doll. Its face was a blank thumb of wood, no facial features, no mouth, eyes, nose, or ears. How did it talk?

The car ahead of me moved again. I lurched forward to close the gap. I wished I was in front this traffic.

Suddenly, there was a loud roar and the world around me blended together, colors swirling into gray and then unswirling. The noise stopped. The cars in front of me were gone. I looked in my rear-view mirror and saw a small, red sports car, maybe a Mustang—I don’t know from cars—with its front-end crumpled. A large black pickup with cartoonishly large wheels, was in front of it. The vehicles must have collided. Two police cars with red and blue flashing lights were parked diagonally across the road. One cop was directing traffic around the accident. It took a moment for my brain to process what happened. Somehow, I had moved a quarter mile down the road, in front of the traffic jam.

A series of honks focused my attention. I was, after all, stopped in moving traffic. I pulled forward, then off into a 7-11 parking lot and turned off the engine.

Was I having a stroke or aneurysm? I looked at the mannequin in the shoe box on the passenger seat. It still stood there, leaning on its elbows, but now shook its head back and forth.

I needed air. Needed to get away from this thing. I reached for my door handle and as I did my door locks engaged.

“You can’t run away,” it said.

Okay. Time for the men in white coats to come and take me away.

“I told you you’re not crazy.” It put its arms up in the air. “Why can’t this part ever be easy?”

“What are you?” I asked.

“I’m the best thing to ever happen to you, Toots.”

Yep. I was definitely crazy.

“I promise you,” it said. “This is real. You’re not crazy. Can we get past this? Here it is real slow: You. Not. Crazy. Got it? I don’t know how to make it any plainer.”

“Can you read my mind?” I asked.

“Only if you wish for something.”

Too many thoughts were bouncing inside my head for me to speak.

“Listen Doll, here’s the deal. I give you three wishes. Like a fairy tale. Now you have two left. If you think a wish or say it, doesn’t matter, I give it to you.”

Was this true? More importantly, what did I want? I’d have to think this through. I sure wish I’d have known so I didn’t waste a wish getting past the traffic jam.

Again, the sound of a tornado and the world swirled together and apart and I was back, stuck in traffic.

“You’ve got one wish left,” it said.

“What? I didn’t mean to make that wish.”

It shrugged its little wooden shoulders.

“Well, I should have three wishes then, because I wished I hadn’t made the previous wish.”

“No, you wished you had known about the three wishes. Think about it.”

I replayed the last few minutes in my mind. Earlier, I somehow knew I had three wishes and wished to be past the traffic jam anyway. Yet, I also remembered not knowing and making the wish. Two simultaneous memories. How confusing.

“Then I wish to start over. A fresh slate with three wishes again.”

It made a noise like the buzzer on a game show. “Wrong.”

Now what would I do?

The little mannequin put its arms up in the air again. “Why do I get the dumb bimbos.”

I hated this thing.

“Tell ya what, Toots. I like you. You’re cute. And I’m bored. So this one time I’ll make an exception. You’ve got three wishes again.”

I remembered reading a story years ago. I think it was called The Monkey’s Paw. In the story a couple gets three wishes. The first wish is for money. Their son is killed and they receive compensation for his loss. Maybe an insurance payout, I don’t remember. Stricken with grief, they wish their son back to life. A short time later there’s a knock on the door. It’s their son. He’d dug himself from his grave, shambled to their home and stood on their doorstep, his body rotting. They used their third wish to wish him dead again.

A car honked at me and I pulled forward. Traffic was no longer stopped, just moving slow.

Point is, wishing for things could be tricky business. The unintended consequences when tempting fate could be horrible.

My eyes darted to the strange little mannequin and back to the car ahead of me. “I wish for no wishes.”

“You what?”

“I don’t want any wishes.”

“Seriously?” it asked.

I nodded, and gave it another quick glance. It hopped out of the shoebox and stood on the seat, hands on hip staring at me. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Nobody’s ever given up their wishes before. It’s not done.”

“Well, I’m doing it. I don’t want the wishes.”

It kicked the shoebox to the floorboard.

I turned right off Golf Road onto Waukengan, taking the corner fast. The mannequin tumbled out of the passenger seat onto my leg, sending a quiver of revulsion through me. I stomped on the brakes. The thing flew to the floorboard and scrambled back into the passenger seat. It jumped up and grabbed the seat-belt, latched it, and climbed under the lap belt.

“Crazy women drivers,” it said.

What a jerk. A real
schmekel
. I floored it.

How would I get rid of this thing? It didn’t know where I lived so if I could somehow toss it out of the car I should be safe. But it did know where Mom and Dad lived. Would it go back there and mess with them? I couldn’t decide what to do. I wished it would just leave.

“Aha,” it said. “You wished for me to disappear. Sorry, Toots. That’s almost like wishing for another wish. Doesn’t count.”

“So I have one wish left.”

“Nope, three.”

“I already used two wishes.”

“Yes and you wished for a do-over.”

“You said I can’t wish for more wishes.”

“Yeow,” it said. “I’ve got a feisty one here.”

I turned off of Waukengan onto East Lake Ave, taking the corner fast, hoping the doll would fall again. It sat back against the seat, arms behind its head, legs tucked under the lap belt, and leaned through the corner.

“Nice try,” it said, patting the seat-belt.

“I don’t think it’s fair,” I said. “How can you force me to take wishes I don’t want?”

It held its hands out, palms up, in a comme ci, comme ca gesture.

“I don’t think it’s fair you take a wish that I only
think
. I wish you’d only use wishes I say aloud.”

“Done.” it said.

“What?”

“You have two wishes left, but you must speak them aloud.”

I pulled into my apartment building’s parking lot, into my assigned space and gathered my purse and keys. “Now what? Am I supposed to carry you with me?”

“If you would be so kind.”

In one motion I opened my door, got out, and closed it behind me. “Fat chance.”

I sprinted to my building’s door, key out, and got through the outside door as quick as I could. Once inside I peered through the door’s glass window, looking for any movement in the parking lot between the building and my car.

Feeling somewhat safe, hoping the weird little doll would just disappear, I went up the stairs to my apartment. I lived on the sixth floor and usually take the elevator, but figured climbing a few stairs would calm my nerves. The first two flights weren’t bad but then I regretted not taking the elevator.

Once to my apartment, I closed and locked the door behind me. What I needed now was a hot bath. Maybe a glass of wine. I sat my purse on the small table I keep next to my apartment’s door and hung my jacket on the closet’s doorknob. First some wine, then a hot bath. I went down the short hallway to the kitchen and stopped short.

On the counter separating the kitchen from living room stood the mannequin. It did a quick tap dance number and at the end extended a foot, heel on floor, toes up, and its arms out. “Cha, cha, cha,” it said.

I didn’t know what to think.

“Didn’t think you could get rid of me so easily, did you, Toots?”

“Would you stop calling me that?” I said.

“Two more wishes,” it said.

“I wish you’d stop calling me Toots.”

“Sorry, I like calling you Toots.”

“I don’t want any more wishes. I wish I had no more wishes.”

“That’s what I love about you,
Toots
. You’re so strange. Who doesn’t want their wishes granted?”

“I don’t.”

“Come now. What do you want? World peace? A million dollars? There’s got to be something.”

“Yeah and the moment I ask for a million dollars a plane crashes into my parents home, killing them, and the airlines cut me a check for my loss. No thank you. I don’t want to play.”

“Now you’ve hurt my feelings,” it said.

“Technically, I’ve already used four wishes. Can’t you just leave me alone now?”

It sat on the counter’s edge, one leg across the other, and looked at the back of one hand as if examining its fingernails for dirt. Only it didn’t have fingernails, it didn’t have fingers, only tiny wooden lumps for hands.

“Maybe,” it said. “I could be persuaded.”

“How?”

“Maybe, if you were nice to me.” It stood and strutted along the counter. Then it stopped, put its hands on its hips and swayed them around. “Maybe, if you were
real
nice.”

Was this creepy doll hitting on me? On the other side of the counter from the mannequin was a bottle of Chardonnay. For a brief moment I entertained the idea of grabbing the bottle and cracking it over the mannequin’s head.

“Maybe, if you were to kiss me I’d drop the whole wish thing.”

“You don’t even have lips. And gross.”

I went to my bedroom, kicked off my shoes, grabbed my bathrobe and went to the bathroom. I needed to get away from the doll and think things through. I flipped the lever to stop up the tub, turned on the hot water, and sprinkled in bubbled bath. While the bathtub filled, I went to the mirror and looked at myself.

“Are you cracking up?” I asked myself. Talking to yourself is common when you’ve lived alone as long as I have.

My eyes looked tired, dark bags underneath them. This whole situation had a weird, surreal feeling. Like I was trapped in a Twilight Zone episode. Mannequins who can talk and grant wishes don’t happen in real life. I pinched myself on the cheek and felt it. In the mirror I examined my skin where I had pinched myself, watching the color of my cheek turn from white to pink.

I noticed the bathroom door in the mirror and rushed over to locked it. Then I paused, unlocked the door, opened it, took a step out and looked around the corner into my kitchen.

The mannequin was sitting on the counter’s edge again, legs dangling off the side, swinging up and down, making a clack-clack-clacking sound against the counter.

I went back into the bathroom, locked the door behind me, and turned off the water. I stripped off my clothes, leaving them jumbled on the bathroom floor, and eased myself into the tub.

The hot water felt incredible. I slid lower in the tub, submerging my head underwater, engulfing myself in the hot, soapy water. Underwater, I felt the day’s stress slide off me like a snake sloughing its skin.

When I could hold my breath no longer I brought my head up and wiped my eyes dry with the first two fingers of each hand. Sitting on the bathtub faucet was the mannequin.

I sat straight up and yelled. “What the hell? Get out.”

“Nice rack, Toots.”

I crossed my arms, covering my breasts. “I said get out.”

“Two wishes left. Maybe fame? You want to be a famous actor? A singer?”

“I wish you would leave.”

“Sorry. Not a valid wish.”

What were my options? I couldn’t control this thing. It did what it wanted. If I came up with a couple wishes was it possible there’d be no unintended consequences? I didn’t want to find out. But it did say if I kissed it then it’d leave me alone.

“Leave now,” I said. “When I’m finished I’ll kiss you.”

It disappeared. I didn’t see it vanish. It was more like it had never been there. I could remember it both being there and not being there.

Was I losing my mind?

I wanted to sink under the bubbles again but didn’t dare.

What if this strange little doll was an enchanted prince waiting for a kiss to break his spell? Like the fairy tale with the princess and the frog.

Yeah, right.

With my luck it’d transform into an overweight bum who’d camp out on my couch, smoke cigarettes, drink beer and watch soap operas all day.