Short Stories
By Scott Niven
Wedding Day
When Marcus Hessing awoke, all he heard was silence.
His studio apartment was located five floors above one of Manhattan’s busiest intersections. In the seven years he had lived in the dump, he couldn’t remember ever hearing this particular lack of noise before.
He climbed out of bed, stumbled to the window, and peeked down at the streets below. Cars, cabs, and buses were aligned on the black asphalt and in the parallel parking spaces in typical New York bumper-to-bumper fashion, leaving little room for blind spots or motorist error. The stoplights dangled over the crossways, untouched by wind, teasing one row of vehicles with green, frustrating the other row with red. Everything looked normal.
Then Marcus squinted. In his half-awake state of mind, it took him a second to spot the problem.
The world had stopped moving.
Every car, cab, and bus was frozen in place. There were no revving engines, no tires squealing against pavement, and no shrieks of profanity.
The sidewalks were empty too. There were no doughnut-eating policemen, no women in curlers walking their dogs, and no Wall Street types doing their Wall Street strut in Wall Street attire. No one.
Marcus’ head thumped against the windowpane. Goose bumps peppered his skin.
“I’m alone,” he said. “Something’s happened and I’m alone. And that means–”
His voice trailed off as he remembered the date. Saturday, February the fifth. At four o’clock this afternoon, he was supposed to get married, supposed to transform Janine Pelshore into Janine Hessing. Two plane tickets to the Bahamas were tucked away in his luggage. Paul Yants, best friend and best man, carried the ring.
Marcus hurried across the room, grabbed the phone, and dialed Janine’s number. It rang three times before her answering machine clicked on.
“Hi. You’ve reached Janine Pelshore. I’m out and about and won’t be back till later, so leave a message and maybe I’ll call you back.”
Marcus hung up the phone. Janine should be home. When he’d called her last night, he’d heard a roomful of bridesmaids giggling, yapping, and screaming in the background. What had happened to them? What had happened to everyone?
Dazed, Marcus stumbled to the coffee table, grabbed the remote, and flicked on the TV.
Black and white phosphorus snow covered the screen.
He switched channels. More snow.
After checking every channel, including the Home Shopping Network, Marcus forced himself to face what had happened.
The networks were gone.
Cable was gone.
His fiancee was gone.
But he wasn’t gone. For some reason, he’d been left behind while everyone else had been taken away. Left behind to fend for himself in a city that thrived on people, noise, and events. A city that killed its loners.
Marcus slumped into a chair by the window. A pile of dirty clothes lay beside him. He shuffled a foot through the unclean items, located a shirt and a pair of pants, and dressed himself. Then he plopped his chin into his hands and stared glumly at the empty scene below him on the street.
“Now what?” he asked. “What does a man do in a city of eight million people when that city suddenly has a population of one?”
His thoughts continued twisting in self-pitying circles as he watched the frozen city beneath him.
Then there was a knock at the door.
He rushed across the room and swung open the door. A woman of perhaps twenty-one stood outside. Her supple figure was covered with a pair of jeans and a t-shirt advertising the music of a local radio station. She had long blond hair down to her waist, blue eyes, and a face devoid of scar or blemish. In a word, perfect.
“Lose your train of thought again, Marcus?” she asked with a sly, knowing grin.
“Train of thought?” Marcus frowned. “How do you know my name?”
“Uh-huh. Thought so.” The woman slithered around him and collapsed into his recliner. “Third time this century, dear. You’ve got to pay more attention.”
Marcus pondered her words. The woman had obviously suffered shock at the disappearance of everyone and needed psychological help. She must have seen his name on the mailbox downstairs. The idea popped into his head to get rid of her, because if she really was crazy then she might be dangerous as well. But a woman of this beauty didn’t come around every day. And since she was possibly the only other person who hadn’t vanished, and since his marriage was in all likelihood postponed...
“Want something to drink while we sort this out?” Marcus asked, moving toward the refrigerator.
“Oh, that’s precious. Yeah, sure, I’d love something to drink. How about a glass of mango juice?”
Marcus frowned. “Sorry, I don’t–”
“Of course you don’t,” the woman said. She laughed. “Oh, this is a strange meeting.” She pointed to the sink. “Some water would be fine.”
Marcus dug in his cupboard for a glass, then fingered some ice cubes from the freezer. “You got a name?”
“Many.”
He filled the glass and carried it to the woman. Then he settled into the couch across from her. “Minnie, did you say? Or Penny?”
“No, I’ve got many names. Most recently, until your loss of concentration, I went by the name of Carla Boykin. But you know me best by my real name.”
Marcus waited. When she didn’t continue, he asked, “Which is?”
The woman’s lips touched the edge of her glass and she drank. Marcus watched patiently.
After she swallowed, she smiled. “My real name is Eve.”
“But I don’t know an Eve.”
“That’s the problem...and the joke.” She laughed again.
“Look,” Marcus said, “I know this all seems very funny to you, and you’re the first person I’ve seen today so God knows I’m grateful, but what’s going on? You know what happened to everyone?”
“Yes, and you do too.”
“Afraid not, Eve. I woke up and everyone was gone.”
Eve frowned. “So it happened while you were asleep, huh? That’s new. Last couple of times it happened in the middle of you having sex.”
Marcus stood up. “Now just a minute, woman! Speak sense! Tell me what happened in plain English!”
The grin never left her face. “In plain English, you happened.”
“I happened?”
“Yes, you happened. Where would you like me to begin?”
Marcus suppressed the urge to grab Eve and shake her. “How should I know? At the beginning, I suppose. I woke up this morning, the day of my marriage, and everyone was gone. Why?”
“As near as I can tell, dear, you forgot. And when you forgot, everyone ceased to exist. I can’t hold onto them for very long by myself, you know.” She paused. “You remember your real name?”
Marcus snorted. “My real name is Marcus Arnold Hessing. You can’t convince me any different.”
“Okay. Let me try to explain.” Eve licked her lips. “Your real name isn’t Marcus. It’s Adam.”
“Adam what? What’s my last name?”
“You don’t have a last name. That’s just a silly contrivance you created so women would be subservient to men when they married. Your name is Adam, and I’m Eve.”
At last, Marcus understood. The woman really was crazy. Faced with the crisis of an unpopulated world, she had renamed the two of them after the only other completely isolated couple in history: Adam and Eve.
“Well, serves me right,” he said, laughing. “After all the good fortune I’ve had in my life, I deserve to spend the rest of eternity with a wacko.”
“You don’t believe me?” Eve asked.
“Of course not,” Marcus said. “I mean, where’s Eden? Where’s all the good, the holy, the pure? I don’t see any of that in New York.” He chuckled. “No, lady, you picked the wrong city to go crazy in. Maybe someplace upstate would’ve been more Eden-like. Quiet town like Mayfield, perhaps.”
For the first time, Marcus saw frustration in Eve’s eyes.
“Dear, I’m telling the truth. Now listen to me and let me prove it to you.”
That sounded interesting. Marcus returned to the couch, crossed his arms, and smiled. “Okay, sure. Prove it.”
Eve sighed. “Several thousand years ago, you and I were in Eden. It was nice, I guess, but...well, it got kind of boring. I mean, years and years with nothing but lakes, mountains, and forests gets old. Anyway, you got tired of hearing me bitch, so you came up with the idea of creating our own paradise. And since Eden allows us to do whatever we want, we soon began to create. We designed civilizations, populated them with people, watched them grow, laugh, sob, die, etcetera, etcetera. Then about midway through the so-and-so period, you came up with the idea of putting us into the scenery. And wha-la! Here we are. The problem is that you tend to forget what’s going on, and end up taking on the characteristics of the person you’re playing. It’s happened before, but never as serious as right now.”
Eve knew how to weave a good story, Marcus thought. Immediately, he began poking holes in it.
“But I’m black. You’re white. Wouldn’t we be the same color?”
“Not here. But in Eden, yes, every square inch of that bod of yours is actually white. And believe me, I’ve seen it all.”
Marcus felt his face redden. “Why would I choose to be a different color than my true color?”
“Variety. You wanted to experience what the people we had created were experiencing. You chose black this time. Forty years ago, you chose to be a Spaniard. And sixty years before that, you were a woman! That was an interesting few years. Never will forget the look on your face when you squeezed out that baby. Priceless!”
“So why do I forget where we are,” Marcus asked, “and you don’t?”
Eve smirked. “How should I know? Must be some genetic defect caused by the y chromosome. Next question.”
“If I’m Adam, why can’t I bring back all the people?”
“You can, as soon as you remember this world is fake. Then we can continue, and you can get married, the weather can change, and all that fun stuff that makes our dream so real can start happening again. I’ll have to get out of here quick, though, before one of your friends catches you with another woman and tells your fiancee.”
Marcus shook his head. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? But I’m not Adam, despite whatever your imagination tells you. And if we’re the only two people left on this planet, I’d appreciate it if you’d act normal.”
“Wait a sec!” Eve slapped her forehead. “You’ve got me playing by the rules, too. Mortal rules. But I, unlike you, don’t have to. I remember who I am.” With those words, her body began disappearing through the chair. “See? I’m phasing through this cheap recliner of yours. Know anyone who can do this, Marcus?”
Marcus’ eyes widened. He watched her fall, then stared as she vanished into the carpet. After a few seconds of quiet, she reappeared on his left, sitting beside him on the couch. She wrapped an arm around him and pecked him on the cheek.
“See, dear? I’m telling the truth.”
Marcus began to suspect he’d gone crazy. Out of pure loneliness, he’d created a woman with a perfect body to keep him company. Unfortunately, his insanity had created a woman who was also insane.
“Why don’t you leave?” Marcus asked with a whimper. “Leave me to my delusions in peace. I’m sure if I try, my shattered mind can conjure up something a little more creative than a dumb blond in a tight outfit.”
“You’re being difficult,” Eve said, “and I’ve had enough of difficult. I didn’t want to do it this way, but here it goes.” Her eyes closed and her lips snapped shut. “Now, what was that word? Genocide? Jennifer? No, wait. Now I’ve got it.” Her eyes shot open. “Genesis!”
Suddenly, Marcus remembered everything. He remembered Eve and her constant complaining, remembered Eden and its plush but boring vegetation. He also remembered his idea, his dream to create a world inside Eden where anything and everything was possible. He and Eve had haunted that world in one guise or another for the last six thousand years, guiding unimportant events, causing disasters, creating fast food, and so on. His identity as Marcus was authentic on the surface, but in reality, he was indeed Adam.
“I see it in your eyes,” Eve said in a husky voice. “The word worked. You remember, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I remember.” Adam slumped in the couch. “And I also remember why I chose to forget.”
Eve toyed with his curls. “And why is that, dear?”
“Because it made Marcus’ life more real, more exciting. Pretending to be normal when I knew as Adam I could make myself win the lottery tomorrow took the zest out of life. But when I pushed the thought that I was Adam out of my mind, little things became exciting. Like wondering if it would rain, or snow, or sleet. Or wondering if I could afford a trip to the Bahamas. Or wondering how my marriage would turn out, how my kids would look, or how my job would go in the future. All those unknowns added to the experience. You understand?”
“Oh, of course, dear.” Eve waved a hand through the air. “You’ve always gotten into this playland more than I have. You live it, while I just use it. But as you’ve seen, if you live too closely in it, you tend to lose touch with being Adam, and then the people disappear.”
Adam thought for a moment. “No. It doesn’t have to be like that. If we both choose to live our lives as mortals, and if we both forget about being Adam and Eve, the world would be fine. It’s only when both of us don’t have the same dream that things go wrong.”
“What are you saying?” Eve slapped him on the knee. “You want me to forget that I’m Eve? How droll! How perfectly droll!”
“I’m not kidding,” Marcus said. “If we purposefully forget our Adam and Eve identities forever, we can do this. What do you say?”
Eve crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. “Can’t we just–”
“No, Eve. Let’s do this. Now. Okay?”
She flung her arms into the air. “Oh, fine. We’ll do it. I’ll be prissy Carla Boykin.” Her eyes took on a mischievous glint. “But couldn’t we at least make Carla and Marcus friends, so I can visit you from time to time?”
Adam glanced at Eve’s figure. “Don’t know if Marcus needs friends like you. He’s getting married today.”
Eve looked offended. “Don’t reject this body now, hon. You’ve wanted me to keep the same appearance throughout the generations. Like the dumb blond look, don’t you?” She smiled, then her lips pursed together. “Let Carla and Marcus be friends, Adam. Please?”
Adam thought for a moment, then nodded. “Fine, fine. They’ll be friends. Not good friends, but occasional, distant, used-to-know-you-but-now-send-you-Christmas-cards variety.” Adam paused. “Ready?”
“Ready, dear.” Eve sighed. “Nice knowing you.”
“We’ll close our eyes,” Adam said, “and concentrate on what the world was like before all the people vanished. Then, on the count of three, we forget about being Adam and Eve. From that point on, we’ll exist solely as Marcus and Carla.”
Adam watched Eve close her eyes, then he closed his. He fixated on a mental image of the day of his marriage, of waking up and being only a few hours away from becoming a husband to the most wonderful woman in the world. “Okay. Here we go. One...two...three!”
He opened his eyes. Carla was sitting beside him on the couch.
“Carla?” Marcus frowned. “I’m sorry. What were we talking about?”
Carla’s face beamed at him. “You were just telling me about your upcoming marriage, dear. And you had just asked if we could go for a walk.”
“A walk?” Marcus heard a car screech outside as another head-on collision was narrowly avoided. Dogs barked and pigeons squawked through the window.
“Yeah, a walk.” Carla stood, and as always, Marcus couldn’t help but sneak a peek at her tight jeans.
“Where to?” he asked.
“To a place I never could convince an old, dear friend of mine to go. Central Park.” She smiled a wily, deep grin. “Earlier, I found the most wonderful fruit tree there.” Her eyes flashed. “And you, my dear Marcus, simply must try it."
End
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