Be Careful What You Wish For

Alex had one wish and one wish only. He wanted Anna not just out of his life, but out of his memory. How could she have done that? How could she have cheated on him? And for so long, and with men they both knew. How could she have done that? And why? Alex worshipped her and was totally convinced that the feeling was mutual. The pain of discovering her deceit was more than he could bear.

Lost in anguish, Alex drove the back streets on the far side of town. It wasn't an area he knew well, and probably not the safest part of the city. But he didn’t care. If he was mugged or even killed, it was what he deserved. With a beer in one hand and the steering wheel in the other, he passed a dingy storefront that caught his eye. The Curiosity Shop, or so the faded sign said.

For no particular reason, Alex pulled the car over to the curb. His beer was empty anyway, and maybe they sold something a little more substantial inside. A little bell announced his arrival as he pushed the heavy door open. The floor had not been swept in years, the shelves were covered with a thick layer of dust, and the air hung musty with the smell of decaying fabric and mold. And yet he couldn’t stop himself from walking forward, searching for the clerk or anyone alive in the place.

Alex crunched the empty beer can he held in his hand, hoping the sound would alert the shopkeeper of his presence. But when no one responded, he called out, “Hello – hello, is anyone here?”

Initially, there was no response. And the sound of his feet shuffling across the filthy floor was the only thing he heard. However, as Alex approached the counter at the back of the store, he heard a low cough and then the creak of an old wooden chair and the groan of someone apparently struggling to stand. Again, Alex called out, “Hello, is anyone here?”

It should have been of no surprise, but the sight of a weathered, bony hand starting to pull back the curtain that concealed the back of the shop did startle him. “Oh, there you are,” Alex said confidently, trying to suppress his discomfort at the sight of the disfigured old man stepping from behind the curtain to greet him.

The store clerk appeared to be in his eighties, if not older. He grasped his side of the counter as if to hold himself up. And with one eye focused on Alex and the other staring somewhere off into space, the old codger cleared his throat and asked, “What can I do for you?”

Still somewhat in shock over his surroundings and the sight of the creepy old man, Alex held up the crumbled beer can and asked, “Do you have beer?”

“We don’t sell beer here, young man,” the clerk said, surprised at such a ridiculous question.

Alex now surveyed the shop for the first time. The only light was from the grimy windows at the front of the store and several bare-bulb lights hanging from the ceiling. But even in that light, the merchandise on the shelves gave the appearance of a Five and Dime, probably from the 1930s. Or his grandfather’s Family Dollar, he joked to himself. Old gag gifts, inexpensive plastic and tin toys, and housewares that looked like they were from the Depression era sat alongside elixirs and home remedies for whatever ails you. There was even a small selection of candy, but nothing Alex recognized, and certainly nothing he would put into his mouth.

“So, what do you sell here?” Alex finally asked.

“Memories,” the old man said authoritatively.

“Memories?” Alex quickly responded.

“Yep, memories,” the old man quipped. “You give me one of yours, and you can pick anyone you want off the shelf.” And with that, he raised his hand and swept it over his head, indicating any shelf in the store.

Alex picked up his beer can, hoping that there still might be something left inside. But when there wasn’t, he slowly placed it back on the dirty counter and asked, “Like what kind of memories?”

“Well, any old memory. Something you want to forget. Something you never want to think about again,” the old man said with the air of a snake oil salesman.

A light bulb came on in Alex’s head. “Can I forget about that bitch, that cheating ex-girlfriend of mine?”

“Of course,” the old man confirmed. “But I’d be careful of that word. It’s not one you should be throwing around loosely.”

“What word?” Alex questioned. “Cheating?”

“No sir, the B-word. That’s a powerful word and one not to be used in vain.”

The old man’s unexpected morality caught Alex a little by surprise. But after taking half a step backward, like a schoolboy caught doing something he knew he shouldn’t have been doing, Alex straightened up and protested, “But she is. I loved her, and she tore my heart out from my chest and stomped on it. She’s a bitch, and that’s all there is to it.”

The clerk just stared at him with his one good eye for a moment. Then, after clearing his throat, he announced, “Alright, young man. That memory seems very painful to you. Take anything you want from the shop, and by the time you get home, the memory of your girlfriend will be gone.”

Alex protested, “Ex-girlfriend – Ex!” But when the old man neither corrected himself nor indicated that he was about to apologize, Alex turned and began walking the musty aisles of the store. Finally spotting a toy car, he stopped to pick it up. Made entirely of tin and probably at least sixty years old, it was painted a pale green, the doors opened and closed, the horn on the tiny steering wheel actually worked, and the key to wind the toy car up was permanently attached. Holding the car in his hand, he wound the key a half turn and was amazed when the rear wheels spun when he let go. Then, holding it up to show the old man, asked, “Is this okay?”

The clerk nodded his acceptance, and Alex headed for his car with his new toy in hand. He honestly did not expect anything the old man said to be true. But on the other hand, he had a new toy to play with once he got home, and maybe that would be enough to get his mind off of Anna.

It took him much longer to get home than he had expected. It seemed like it had still been daylight when he left the Curiosity Shop, and it was after nine when he finally reached the apartment he and Anna had shared for more than three years. But if one thing was true, it was that Anna, that cheating bitch, was the farthest thing from his mind.

Opening the door, Jezebel, their cat – excuse me, his cat now, greeted Alex with loud meows, complaining bitterly that she had yet to be fed. After a few quick pats and a rub of Jezebel’s belly, Alex set his new toy on the kitchen counter and filled the cat’s bowl with Cat Chow.

Jezebel quickly dug into the bowl of dry cat food like she hadn’t eaten in days. And after pouring himself a tall whiskey, Alex plopped down on the sofa to play with his new toy. Winding it up, he placed it on the floor and allowed it to head straight to his hungry and unsuspecting cat. The car hit Jezebel’s hind legs, sending the poor feline skyward in terror. The toy vehicle then knocked over the food bowl, scattering dry cat food in every direction.

Alex kept winding up the toy car and sending it toward the hungry, terrified cat for the next thirty minutes, wiping tears of laughter from his face. And though memory tags of Anna were scattered liberally throughout the apartment, the old man was right about erasing any thought of her from Alex’s mind, for he hadn’t given her the slightest thought since leaving the store.

Jezebel finally took refuge in what used to be Anna’s closet. Alex, tired of the game, showered and got ready for bed. It had only been three days since Anna had moved out, and this was the first night since Alex hadn’t cried himself to sleep. In fact, he was laughing at how the little car had chased Jezebel around the apartment. His only regret was that he hadn’t recorded it so he could post it on YouTube. He was sure it would have gone viral if he’d only thought to make a recording.

Sleep came quickly to Alex that night, but the little car soon appeared in his dreams. It was a full-size, real-life Ford convertible, and two people were sitting in the front seat. One was clearly his beloved grandmother, but she was alive and so young. She was probably in her mid-to-late teens. And it was clearly her. Alex recognized her from old family photos. But who was the man sitting next to her behind the wheel?

As she faced him, she had a somber look on her face as she began to speak. “Devon,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “Devon, I’m pregnant.”

The car’s driver turned to face her. He didn’t speak at first, but Alex could see his face go ashen, before commencing to turn red. “Well,” he said as he placed one arm on the seatback and gripped the steering wheel tightly with the other. “Who’s is it?”

“Devon,” his grandmother responded. “It’s yours, I mean it’s ours.”

“Bull shit, Jennie,” he spat. “You’re not going to pen this on me. You’ve slept with half the school’s football team, and there is no way that kid could be mine.”

“Devon, nooo!” she pleaded. “You are the only boy in my life, the only one – I swear.”

“Get out.” He shouted. “Get out, you bitch. You’re nothing but a low-down lying bitch, and I’m going to tell the whole damn school. Now get out of my car.”

With tears streaming down her face, she opened the car door and slowly swung her feet to the ground. The moment she was standing, Devon dropped the car in gear and popped the clutch before she could even close the door. The inertia from the accelerating car slammed the door shut, just missing her fingers by inches.

“I’m telling the school, Jennie,” he yelled back at her as he sped off. “You’re a bitch, Jennie. A God damn lying bitch.”

Alex sat up in bed as if he’d been hit with a cattle prod. His grandmother’s name was Jennie. He knew his mother was an only child and had been raised by her single mom. But he had always been told that his grandfather had been killed in the D-Day invasion of Europe. And that he was buried as a war hero in France at an American Military Cemetery.

But was that a lie? Had his mother lied to him all these years? If this was the memory his grandmother had hidden from him all his life, he didn’t want it. Not now. Not now that she was gone, and he had no way to ask her and to comfort her. He didn’t want this memory.

The following day, Alex wrapped the pale green toy car tightly in a grocery sack and headed back to find the Curiosity Shop. But after weeks of searching, he never found it. The toy car now sits high on a shelf, in an abandoned closet, along with some dresses and other women’s clothes that he can’t remember who they ever belonged to.

But the thought of his biological grandfather shunning his sweet, loving grandmother haunts Alex to this very day.