Meet for Drinks?

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Bloodthirstybutcher
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Meet for Drinks?

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Tue Nov 08, 2022 10:43 pm

Meet for Drinks?




The text was vague and concerning. None of the playful banter I usually get with Harry. Short, direct, to the point... and somehow... a little ominous.

I can see his leg bouncing up and down, well outside the booth where he's seated, before I ever see his face. His head is lowered, obscuring it from view, but I know that nervous tick of his... the way his legs get restless and jittery when something is wrong.

I've known the man since our school days. Him being the outgoing, handsome type who took pity on, and found an unlikely friendship in the quiet, bookworm of a girl that was yours truly. We shared a couple of classes and he'd asked me to help tutor him. Though never romantically involved, we found that we enjoyed each other's company quite a bit, and that really hasn't changed. We remained close throughout college, and through both of our marriages and differing careers, but it's been at least six months since I've talked to him. Something that's incredibly out of the norm for us.

The pub is nearly empty with the exception of Harry, myself, and a grizzled old fellow at the bar who looks like he probably frequents the establishment more often than his own hovel. And the bartender, of course... a man with an obvious chip on his shoulder and a hacking smoker's cough.

I remove my coat and make my way towards my old friend, the sound of my own heels clicking against the old wood floor feeling a little out of place in the quiet. The place smells of roasted nuts, old wood and mildew, as most dives like it do. I can't remember the last time I've walked into a bar where there wasn't any music playing.

Once I reach the booth that Harry's staked out for us, I hang my coat on the iron hanger mounted to an end post next to his. I greet my old comrade, "long time, no see... shithead."

Harry looks up for a moment to acknowledge me, but his eyes find the glass of whiskey in front of him again without saying a word. That drink clearly hasn't been his first this evening. I drop my purse against the far wall as I slide into the booth, the green vinyl seat beneath me creaks under my weight. I know damn well from his lackluster greeting that he's in some kind of trouble.

"I don't hear from you in months and suddenly I get a text out of the blue? What the hell is going on with you, Harry?"

"Can I get you a drink?" He offers, avoiding my questions. His tone is sullen and distant.

"Gin and tonic," I reply. Harry swallows the last of his scotch, then orders my drink and another for himself by yelling his request at the bartender. "How many have you had already?"

"Not enough," he mumbles. Harry doesn't speak after that, not until his next round arrives anyway. The silence in the bar is uncomfortable and suffocating.

With Harry not yet ready to talk, I slump back in the bench, the vinyl covering creaking even more when I do, a sound that feels so much more amplified in the dead quiet. I blow my bangs out of my eyes in frustration and stare at the ugly beer signage on the water-stained walls. I know Harry, it may take time and a few more drinks, but he'll tell me what's goin' on with him. We tell each other everything.

Once our drinks arrive, I've barely picked mine up before Harry has gulped down nearly half of his own. "Alright, Harry... you gonna spill it or what? I'm glad to see you and all, but fuck man! I don't wanna have to watch you puke your guts out in the next half hour!"

"It's Gabby," he finally relents. Gabrielle... his wife.

"What's going on with Gabby," I ask, "the two of you fighting or something?"

"Yes," he says the word, but with a wince he then changes his mind, "no... I don't know... it's complicated."

I lean in and place my hand on his, "I can't help if you don't tell me what's going on. Since when do we keep things from each other, Harold James Thatcher?!"

"Things are different," he says cryptically. "I'm not sure you'll even believe what I'm about to tell you."

"If your goal was to bring me out here on a weeknight and scare the shit out of me, then your doing a fine job if it," I chastise him. "Why don't you talk to me... say what you need to say... then I'LL decide what I believe or don't. Come on... out with it already."

Harry finishes his drink and sets the low-ball glass down a little too hard on the table. He waves his hand in the air to let the man behind the bar know he is ready for his next round of liquid courage. His eyes look so sad, so tired and sunken... the whites streaked with red capillaries, telling me he's been crying before I arrived. When he looks up at me for the first time since I sat down, I can see there's real pain there.

"It's Gabby... she's... she's... she's sick."

A lump in my throat begins to form. I take a swig of my G & T and ask, "what is it... please don't say it's cancer."

"No," he replies, looking back down at the ice melting in the bottom of his glass, "it's something... something new... the doctors don't know what it is yet... they've never seen anything like it."

I suddenly get very nervous. It probably isn't the most tactful thing to ask, but I'm a little worried for my own well being, "it isn't contagious is it?"

"Not from what they can tell. I've been with her every day and I haven't contracted it anyway." He sits back himself, hunching... swirling the ice around with a tilt of his wrist. "They don't know what to call it, or how she contracted it... but what they do know is that she doesn't have a lot of time left."

"Oh god... Harry... I'm so sorry," I don't know what else to say except to offer my sympathies. What do you even say to someone who tells you the love of their life is dying? Gabby is such a sweet woman... I can't believe what I'm hearing. "What... I mean... what are her symptoms?"

"That's just it... there's only one. She's sh-," the bartender arrives with Harry's latest scotch on the rocks, which makes my sad-looking friend lock up like a rusty gear. It's very odd. He waits until the barkeep is back behind the bar, watching his every step. The old wino has already passed out with his head buried in his arms.

"You mind putting some music on?" Harry shouts to the bartender, who clicks the radio on to some godawful classic rock station to oblige.

Whatever Harry wants to tell me, he clearly doesn't want anyone else to hear. I'm physically shaking now, fearing whatever the hell he is about to tell me.

Harry takes another swig, then leans in and begins to explain in a hushed voice, "we first noticed something was wrong a few months ago. Gabby was losing weight, which at first we didn't think much of. She's always trying out whatever new diet fad comes along. I tell her she doesn't need it, but she's always worried she's gaining too much weight. But it was more than that this time. I could really feel it when I'd hold her in my arms... she was... changing."

"Changing?" I ask, unsure if I really want to know what kind of nightmare has brought my friend to this state of distress. "What do you mean by 'changing'?"

"What I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this table, you understand?" He tells me sternly, looking back at the barkeep once again, who is busy cleaning glasses with his back turned.

"What the hell kind of disease needs to be kept a secret, Harry?!" My voice is slightly elevated, so Harry shushes me.

"Damnit, Ellie!" He slams his fist down on the table, rattling the glasses and catching the bartender's attention.

"Any more of that and you're out on your ass!" The bartender warns my friend, who waves him off half-heartedly.

"Swear it, Ellie. Swear to me that you won't tell another soul," he begs me to comply.

I've never seen Harry look so sad and serious, "yes... of course... whatever you say. Please, Harry... tell me what is wrong with Gabby."

Harry looks me in the eye, I assume to see if I'm telling the truth. His rage subsides as it gives way to his all-consuming grief. He begins to cry, he tries to fight it, but it's clear that he's been holding a lot back for a very long time. Through his sobs his story unfolds...

"She wasn't just losing weight, Ellie... she was losing... size. Her clothes began to hang on her, even the form fitting ones. And her height... like I said... I could feel it when I held her. She was getting smaller, Ellie. Smaller!"

All I could picture was an emaciated woman, skin and bones... wasting away to nothing as the disease ate away at her body. Weak and frail like an old woman. "Is it some kind of degenerative disorder?"

"You're not hearing me right, Ellie," he tries to clarify, "it's not like she's losing muscle mass or suffering bone loss... she's physically getting smaller... shrinking... like in some shitty sci-fi pulp novel!"

Harry was right... I don't believe it, but he's so upset I don't dare say otherwise. I think the alcohol is making him see pink elephants at this point.

He continues, "physically... she's fine, in peak health... but somehow she just keeps getting smaller... and smaller."

"Harry... where is Gabby now?" I ask. The crazy stuff he's saying has me genuinely worried about Gabby, not that I'd ever think Harry would do something to her... I hope.

"At home," he replies. He picks his phone up off the table and starts flipping his thumbs around the screen until he finds what he's looking for. "Here. See for yourself."

He sets the phone down in front of me, showing what appears to be a livestream in infrared green. "Jesus Christ, Harry! You're surveilling her?!"

Harry shakes his head with frustration, wiping the tears from his eyes as well. "It's for her protection. With all the medical bills that have piled up from the tests, I've been forced to pull extra shifts at the plant. I can't be home all the time to protect her."

Ok... now Harry really has me worried. I look back down at the screen, trying to understand what I'm looking at. There's what appears to be a child sitting at a kitchen table, her face buried in her arms and her long, curly hair draped over the elbows. The rapid rising and falling of her back tells me she too is crying.

And then the "child" looks up... and I see with shock that it is, in fact... Gabby! The back of the chair rises as high as the back of her head and she can just barely reach to rest her arms over the top of the table. Her clothes look loose and baggy on her frame and her bare feet dangle above the floor.

At first I think Harry is playing the most elaborate prank in history, replacing his furniture with oversized versions to make his wife look smaller. Why the two of them would do this just to fuck with me makes no sense, as Harry has never been much of a prankster. Hell, the guy barely has the timing to tell a joke properly. But if this isn't a joke... that just leaves the impossible...

"Oh... oh my god... Harry?"

Harry takes his phone back and deposits it safely into his pocket, checking over his shoulder to make sure the proprietor isn't eavesdropping. "It's been getting worse lately. The spurts... that's when it gets really bad... have been growing more frequent. She's always shrinking... just tiny millimeters at a time, but then the unexpected spurts come. Suddenly she'll lose a lot more than just millimeters. She had a real bad one today."

"You said she's at home... that's not your kitchen, Harry? Where is she really?!" I pry further, thinking he's going to tell me she's locked away in some secret lab somewhere.

"She's at home like I said, but you're right... that isn't our kitchen," Harry explains, before dropping the biggest bomb of a night filled with them. "It's the kitchen inside the dollhouse."

I drop my drink and the glass shatters across the table. My jaw drops and my eyes start to water out of fear for my friend's wife. The bartender arrives with a rag to clean up the mess I've made, which makes Harry clam up all over again until he leaves. I ask the barkeep for a replacement drink before he leaves though... because I know I'm going to need it.

"I wanted her to feel some kind of normalcy, like she fit somewhere, so I got the dollhouse for her," he resumed, "she'd been so angry... so frustrated until then. For a few weeks though, she felt a little better... and it had been better for the both of us. But the spurt today... she must have woke up and... can you imagine it?! Finding the tiny furniture inside your tiny house had outgrown you... just like the real thing had months ago? I can't even begin to comprehend what she must be going through. To have to endure that trauma all over again."

I don't even realize it until I'm bleeding, but I've chewed the cuticles on my nails away while I listen to my friend unload his troubles. I've got nervous ticks of my own.

"Obviously it's been horrible for her. I'm working such long hours and she's stuck home alone. She has no one to confide in except for me, out of the need for secrecy. God knows what the wrong person might do to her if they found her like that... it scares the shit out of me to the point that I can't sleep at night. By the time I get home from work, she's an emotional mess... trapped in this strange limbo of boredom and fear. Surrounded by an old life that can only feel mocking as it continues to grow out of reach. The fear I see in her eyes every day, especially after a really bad spurt... it just guts me."

I place my hand on Harry's once again, and he grips mine back. He'd managed to choke back his tears, but the next thing he tells me is too hard for him to fight through them anymore.

"She's changed so much... not her size, I mean... she's so upset all the time. She screams at me, throws things. I know Gabby doesn't mean to... I can see the fear behind the rage in her eyes... even as she's taking it out on me. She's frustrated and angry, and she's earned every once of it. I just take it... let her do what she needs to do... but if I said it was easy I'd be lying."

I squeeze my friend's hand tighter, "oh god, Harry... I... I don't even know what to say. It's all so awful."

Harry covers his eyes and tries to compose himself once again, only to cry even harder. "When I came home from work tonight... I saw her like that... looking too small for a... fucking... dollhouse! She hasn't moved from that spot at the table... not since..."

"What happened, Harry?" I ask the sobbing man across from me. Holding his hand is no longer enough, so I scoot out my side of the booth and slide in next to him.. putting my arm around his shoulders. "I'm here... just let it all out."

With a swipe of his forearm across his eyes, Harry takes a deep breath and tries to continue, "like I said... that's where I found her today. She didn't greet me at the door as usual. I called her name and she didn't answer. My heart sank into my stomach, worried something had happened to Gabby... but then I saw her sitting at her little table... just staring off at nothing. I asked her if she was ok, but she didn't respond. I fell to my knees at the side of the dollhouse, begging for my wife to speak to me. Screaming at me would be better than that silence... at least I thought so anyway."

"'Do you love me?' Is all she said at first."

"'What?' I replied, 'what kind of question is that?! Of course I love you!"

"'Would you do anything for me, Harry?' She asked, equally as cryptically."

"'Of course I would,' I tell her."

"Then, for the first time... she looked back at me, 'would you kill me if I asked you to?'"

"I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but the thousand yard stare and the calmness in her tone told me she'd been thinking about this for quite some time. 'How could you ask me that, Gabrielle? I could never hurt you!'"

"'Fucking useless,' she mumbled... before kicking her tiny chair back as she stood up to scream it at me, 'YOU'RE FUCKING USELESS, HAROLD! AN IMPOTENT PUSSY WHO CAN'T EVEN GIVE HIS WIFE THE ONE THING SHE NEEDS!"

"I tried to calm her down, but that only seemed to make her angrier. Then, she dragged one of her kitchen table chairs over and swung it at my face. She hit me in the nose, it didn't hurt much, but the shock of it... Ellie, I yelled back at her... I yelled back at my poor, sick wife! She recoiled back, like she was being threatened by some gigantic monster... and that's exactly what I was. A monster roaring at a woman a fraction of his own size."

"She resumed her screaming, 'GET OUT! GET OUT, I SAID GET OUT!'"

"I felt so ashamed. I didn't know what to say, she was so angry... so I just did as she asked. So here I am, looking for answers in a glass of scotch." Harold drops his head into his arms and I continue to try and comfort him the best I can by gently rubbing at his back.

Then he says something, muffled from by his arms, that sent chills running down my spine, "what if she's right?"

"Excuse me?!" I reply, hoping he hadn't just said what I think he said. "What was that, Harold Thatcher?!"

Harry sits back up, more fear filling his eyes than in any man I've ever seen, "she's just going to keep getting smaller... until there's nothing left, except... she won't be nothing... she'll still be alive. Shrinking into infinity... terrified and alone."

"You don't know that!" I reply, trying to give a hopeless man hope. "You said yourself the doctors didn't know anything about it... maybe it'll stop. Yeah! It could stop any day now!"

Harry closes his eyes and shakes his head again, "it isn't going to stop. She's going to disappear. And then what? She gets crushed beneath a falling speck of dust? Hunted by germs? Does she get so tiny that oxygen molecules are too large for her to breathe and she suffocates to death? And what if death doesn't stop her from shrinking?! What if her body continues to shrink... smaller than the atoms... smaller than quarks... smaller than the unknown beyond that? Does she become a singularity? A black hole? One that pulls the rest of us down with her?!"

My friend's eyes are wide and red from crying. He's getting frantic with fear. His hands grip my shoulders firmly and he pleads with me to give him answers, "what do I do, Ellie?! What do I do?!"

I worm myself free of Harry's grasp and slap him hard across the face, hoping to god it knocked some sense into him. "If you think I'm gonna give you some kind of permission to kill your wife, Harry... you've lost your goddamn mind! What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you even hear yourself?!"

"She's suffering," he pleads, bowing his head and pulling at his hair... reaching his wits end. "Gabby's suffering, and I can end it! I can end her misery!" He pauses, letting reality sink in once more, "but I can't... I could never harm a hair on her head... I love her too much. She's right, Ellie... I am useless."

"You ever think all Gabby really needs is you, Harry?" My question catches my sobbing friend off guard. He just stares back at me, waiting for what he needs to hear. "She's stuck at home dealing with this nightmare while you're gone all day. Of course she's scared. Of course she's thinking drastically, man! She's lonely! She needs her husband to be there for her... WITH her!"

Harry's head wobbles with the agitation of having to explain himself, "but the doctors... the bills... who else-"

I cut him off, "fuck the doctors. Fuck the bills. If and when you lose her, do you want your final memories together to be like this?! Sell the house, take the money and run. Take Gabby somewhere the creditors can't find you. There may not be much hope for her, but just be with her, for christsakes!"

For the first time, clarity of thought strikes my old friend. The cloud hanging over him begins to burn away. He looks at the drink in his hand, then sets it down on the table, "oh my god... Ellie... you're right! What am I doing?"

"Gabby may be upset, but she still loves you. Go home... be with your wife, Harry. It's what the both of you need."

Harry nods and all but shoves me out of the booth, reaching for his jacket as he does so. He stands up, throws his arms around me, and thanks me for being such a good friend. He plants a gentle kiss on my forehead, then turns on his heels and dashes for the door... tossing a wad of cash at the barkeep without even slowing down.



I haven't seen my friend Harry since that night.

There was a big investigation that made all the papers, the result of accusations from Gabby's family that Harry had murdered his wife and ran off when the two of them came up missing. All are guilty until proven innocent in the eyes of the press, especially with Harry having liquidated all of his assets before his disappearance. Houses sell quickly in a market like this.

I like to imagine he and poor, tiny Gabby on a beach somewhere. Soaking up the sunset while he holds her softly in his hands.

Or perhaps they're secluded away in some isolated mountain cabin, hidden safely away from any who might come looking.

Perhaps Gabrielle's condition eased... or perhaps not. What's important is that the two of them have each other to face the future, and that's all that matters.

I hope he's alright... and I sure do miss the big lug.

Perhaps I'll see him again someday. Perhaps I'll see them both.





The End.
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

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Little Sally
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Re: Meet for Drinks?

Post by Little Sally » Sun Dec 04, 2022 3:44 pm

Bloodthirstybutcher wrote:
Tue Nov 08, 2022 10:43 pm
The text was vague and concerning. None of the playful banter I usually get with Harry. Short, direct, to the point... and somehow... a little ominous...

Brilliantly told, and very thought provoking as we've come to expect from your work.

Is it best left there, or is a sequel a possibility?
sally g, reincarnated.

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Bloodthirstybutcher
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Re: Meet for Drinks?

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Sun Dec 04, 2022 10:58 pm

Little Sally wrote:
Sun Dec 04, 2022 3:44 pm
Bloodthirstybutcher wrote:
Tue Nov 08, 2022 10:43 pm
The text was vague and concerning. None of the playful banter I usually get with Harry. Short, direct, to the point... and somehow... a little ominous...

Brilliantly told, and very thought provoking as we've come to expect from your work.

Is it best left there, or is a sequel a possibility?
Thanks Sally! That really means a lot coming from someone as talented as yourself. ☺️ With this one, I didn’t really have a plan. It was just a scene I was thinking about while at work one day. I kinda like it standing on its own, hopefully letting people imagine their own version of Harry and Gabby’s fate.
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

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Re: Meet for Drinks?

Post by Little Sally » Mon Dec 05, 2022 12:18 am

Bloodthirstybutcher wrote:
Sun Dec 04, 2022 10:58 pm

Thanks Sally! That really means a lot coming from someone as talented as yourself. ☺️ With this one, I didn’t really have a plan. It was just a scene I was thinking about while at work one day. I kinda like it standing on its own, hopefully letting people imagine their own version of Harry and Gabby’s fate.
I think you're right in keeping it as a stand alone piece for the reader's imagination, and it really works for me that way. And being an optimist.. I believe it really works out for the characters as well.

I hope you try this one off approach more often when the muse persuades you. :)
sally g, reincarnated.

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Re: Meet for Drinks?

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Mon Dec 05, 2022 2:58 am

Little Sally wrote:
Mon Dec 05, 2022 12:18 am
Bloodthirstybutcher wrote:
Sun Dec 04, 2022 10:58 pm

Thanks Sally! That really means a lot coming from someone as talented as yourself. ☺️ With this one, I didn’t really have a plan. It was just a scene I was thinking about while at work one day. I kinda like it standing on its own, hopefully letting people imagine their own version of Harry and Gabby’s fate.
I think you're right in keeping it as a stand alone piece for the reader's imagination, and it really works for me that way. And being an optimist.. I believe it really works out for the characters as well.

I hope you try this one off approach more often when the muse persuades you. :)
Well, I do have something in the works, but it’ll be a couple of weeks before I’m ready to release it. Stay tuned! Lol
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

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