The House of Wonders
A short story
He sat on the rocky ledge, peering into the river. The dark blue was broken by white rivulets, flowing faster than yesterday, bearing tourists’ detritus from Town to the lake. The garbage would journey just under 10 miles, passing by rock formations and ridges left by a different, ancient lake’s sudden departure, before emerging in front of Grandpa’s house. It would flow farther eventually, but it would pause to loll about and mingle with the fish in a human-constructed lake. It would get caught in a dam, perhaps to be gathered by sanitation workers, perhaps to stay stuck.
He speculated about the garbage:
Plastic cups and accidentally-dropped wax souvenirs from the House of Wonders. Bracelets claiming to be made of fossils despite their plastic sheen. Discarded wax paper that once held burgers from Brewsters. Wrappers from fudge that a 67-year-old woman was paid minimum wage to meticulously construct.
A child had lost interest in the fudge while watching its creation and lost even more interest after her parents purchased a bag-full and commanded her to enjoy it, so it ended up in the river while Dad was enviously peeking through the window at Brewsters, knowing Mom wouldn’t let him have a beer today. An engagement ring. Multiple less pricy rings made of wax—the fudge-hating kid would have preferred one of those.
His ass hurt from the rock, but not too bad. He pulled out his phone and pushed the button on the side to check the time. He’d better get going.
He stood up and swiped his hands on the back of his jeans, hopefully brushing off enough of the yellow-brown Cambrian sandstone that he’d be presentable for his shift. He’d put in at least a little effort. Customers would be looking at that part of his body when he turned to the taps.
He looked across the river, toward the lights from businesses and attractions, which were getting brighter as the sun sank. Both light sources were beginning to make the river’s undulations shimmer greasily.
He walked along the bridge that spanned the river, separating brown and green nature from primary-colored tourism.
The enormity of today’s revenue-generation revealed itself to him as he reached State Street. The mass of people was overwhelming, the chitter of children oppressive. He waited at the crosswalk as parents mindlessly walked their kids into the street before realizing cars were coming perpendicularly and jumped back, holding little hands. There was some sense to the place if you paid attention and acquiesced to its rules.
He entered Brewsters from the alley. The hallway leading past the restrooms was crowded already. It was a busy day. He politely navigated to the employee room and discarded his backpack in a cubby. The room was a mess. Someone’s hoodie was on the floor. Bill probably wouldn’t have been in today, so it wasn’t unexpected. A place like this in a town like this needed authority, he thought.
The bass on the bar’s sound system was too high. That meant Doug was probably too high, as well. The 1990s pop-punk music Doug preferred would be fine for the space with decent equalization, but Doug seemed to think his music was harder than it was.
A delicate balance was required in Brewsters, not just musically, but in general demeanor. At this time of night, the place was transitioning, moving from early dinners for children with drunk dads to evening drinks for local college-aged kids in town for summer work. The two sets of kids had two sets of expectations.
He’d need to remove Doug from DJ duty.
He brushed his ass one more time and exited the employee room. He walked behind the bar where Doug was pouring an overpriced IPA, which was of far less quality than what could be poured from the tap next to it.
“Hey, Doug. I’m turning down the music, buddy.”
Doug looked to his right, a little startled. “Hi Matt. Don’t fuck with my music,” he smiled. Matt was going to fuck with Doug’s music.
Doug was from here. From this Town, not the town 10 miles down the river where Matt’s Grandpa lived on a lake with tourist-detritus stuck in a dam. He had chosen not to leave. He liked his tacky hometown. He liked the river and the strangeness of the place. He could manage tourists. He had handled them his whole life.
Matt wasn’t from here at all. He was from the City. As Matt adjusted the bass on the soundboard behind the bar, he did so with City nuance. Doug didn’t mind. He had made a shit-ton of money off drunk dads today, and he was about to go home.
Matt equalized the equalizer while Doug washed a glass.
“Do you need me to stay, Matt? It’s been crazy,” Doug asked.
“Nope. I think I’m good. Jessica is on tonight, too. How did it go?”
“We’ll see when you do the tips, but I can’t see straight, so pretty good.”
“Okay. You on tomorrow?”
“Nope.”
“Then fuck off and go home.”
“If you insist.” Doug pushed the bass up as he walked past Matt.
“Cute,” Matt said as he remedied the sound.
“I know I am,” Doug said, as he walked out from behind the bar.
Doug was wearing Matt’s favorite pair of jeans today, the ones with the curlicue pattern on the back pockets. They were very dark denim, with lighter streaks from wear. Doug’s t-shirt was just a little too short. But there was no dress code at Brewsters. Bill tried it once, buying two “Brewsters” t-shirts for each employee and making a half-assed policy change, but he stopped paying attention and everyone reverted to their norm.
The bar was slowly transitioning. At this time of night, the people sitting at the bar were changing from parents, their disinterested children, and assorted friendly middle-aged drunks to people in their twenties. Matt kept score in his head until the game was over, and the young people had won.
This part of the shift was always kind of boring, and Jessica was late. She was usually late, so no big deal, but it left Matt having to talk to the customers. Because the bar was transitioning, that meant talking to either jaded, regretful people older than him or irresponsible, too-sober people younger than him. Sometimes someone would be interesting, but those people were rare.
As he turned toward the taps, Jessica manifested and slapped him on the shoulder. “Was Doug a Greek God today?” she asked, her voice indicating some pre-barring.
“Of course,” Matt said, closing the tap.
“I want to bite him. Mmm. Chomp.”
“Get in line, bitch. Gayer than a rainbow.”
“Nope. He fucked Cassy.”
“Circumstantial.”
“Circumstance is my hand slapping that haunch,” she waved her hand wildly.
Matt laughed. “You’re so weird.”
“Correct,” Jessica replied, as she unclasped her necklace. Matt didn’t know why she wore that ugly chain, with its plastic dreamcatcher. It was cheap, but it was always with her, only coming off her neck when she was working.
The crowd was nearing completion of its metamorphosis. No children. Only a few regulars. Many college and college-adjacents.
Matt pushed the bass up, just a little. This wasn’t the club. It was an old dive bar with abnormally good burgers.
The shift was typical for this time of year. Exhausting but lucrative. Thank God Jessica was there, though. She made time move more quickly.
The kitchen closed at 10:00. James cleaned up and left without saying goodbye. Matt and Jessica were too busy to acknowledge James, even though the burgers were what kept the place going for decades. Or they did, once. Now, the Town had been built up with outlying theme parks and golf courses, so the service industry’s need to attract young workers with booze outpaced the need for good burgers downtown. The ancient sandstone structures were no longer the primary feature of this place. The waxy plastic was the main attraction, and to make that make sense required beer.
When the last stumbling idiot left the building, Matt and Jessica mopped the floors and cleaned the bar, the bathrooms, and the rest. They closed the till and counted the money. Doug was right. That was some tip.
“Old fashioned?” Jessica asked.
“I’m tired,” Matt responded. “But, yeah.”
Jessica mixed the drink while Matt sat on the one barstool they hadn’t flipped onto the bar.
Matt sat, while Jessica stood behind the bar, both drinking their sweet, boozy drinks.
“What’s the max age for this job?” Jessica asked as she put her necklace on.
“I don’t think there is one. I’ve worked with some crusty guys.”
“I’m not sure I have much more of this in me.”
Matt was surprised, genuinely surprised to hear her say it. She had more energy than anyone he’d ever known.
“You think you need to slow down, old lady?” he asked.
“I’m bored.”
“Yep.”
Matt noticed the floor vibrating a bit. It was subtle, but he could feel it.
“Trains don’t come through this late, do they?”
“I have no idea,” Jessica replied.
The vibrations continued. “The sound system’s off, right?” he asked as he stood up to walk around the bar. The system was off.
“What is that?” Jessica asked, looking at the floor. “What’s that sound?”
Matt was walking toward the door to look at the railroad bridge when the taps exploded. The old, copper fixture shot to the ceiling and crashed to the ground, beer shooting out after it. Vile-smelling, brown liquid drenched the space and its occupants, violent streams shooting from the bar toward the tin ceiling.
Jessica dropped her old fashioned and fell to the floor instinctively, while Matt shot back from the door.
“What the fuck?” Matt yelled. Geysers of beer shot from the counter, and shrapnel of 60-year-old copper fell around them.
Jessica scrambled around the bar in a futile attempt to escape the deluge of beer.
“Fuck!” Matt yelled again, as he ran toward the basement door. Something must have happened to the kegs. “Fuck!”
Jessica stood up and ran to out the front door, pulling her phone from her pocket. Matt pulled on the door to the basement, but it wouldn’t budge. “Fuck!”
He put both hands on the doorknob, turning it to the left, then the right. He leaned back, trying to use his weight to make the door move. It didn’t.
Jessica came running back in. “My phone isn’t working.” She grabbed the wireless landline from behind the bar. She had never used it. Its only use was incoming idiocy, like inquiries about hours that could be obtained more easily and accurately via the internet.
The bar’s phone was dead, too.
“What the hell is going on?” she shouted at Matt over the sound of violently-projected liquid. The beer was still shooting out of the shattered taps, filling the room with thudding, stinging wetness. An alcoholic foam had formed on the mirror behind the taps. Beer was collecting on the floor.
Matt didn’t respond to Jessica. He just kept pulling on the door.
“Matt! What is happening?”
He looked at her and let the door go. “I don’t know.”
The town was at the convergence of four counties, the poorest and strangest in the state. It resisted identity or geography. In Town, your municipal government depended on what side of the street you were standing on. The community was built amid rock formations where the ancient lake had its most devastating effect upon its departure, when the whole place was hot and wet. Billions of years ago it was the ocean.
Matt and Jessica left Brewsters and stood on the street. Matt’s phone wasn’t working, either. The beer was still erupting like a natural disaster. The kegs must have been spent by now. It was senseless.
“We gotta go get Bill,” Matt said. Bill was the third-generation owner of Brewsters. His grandfather opened the place in the 1940s when tourists came for the water and rocks, not t-shirts and souvenirs. Bill’s grandfather’s marketing plan had been pretty simple: He made good food. Bill didn’t make good food, but he knew how to hire people who did.
Matt and Jessica, smelling like corpses fresh after liver failure, walked down State Street. They could have run, but at this point, why bother? Bill’s house was just down the road. It had been his grandfather’s.
As they approached the old house, just far enough past the tourist strip to feel like a neighborhood, but not far enough away to feel detached, Matt’s vision started getting hazy. He hadn’t drunk on his shift. He usually didn’t, though both Doug and Jessica did. His head started to hurt.
As they reached Bill’s house, Jessica became still. “What is that?” she said slowly, under her breath. A jellyfish lay in Bill’s front yard.
“What?” Matt asked.
The town was thousands of miles from an ocean. It hadn’t always been. The strange rock formations were the remnants of a shoreline, formed in the inconceivably distant past. The whole place was once under water.
A jellyfish should not have been in Bill’s yard millennia later.
“Matt, what is that?” Jessica asked, her voice breaking just a little bit.
“What do you mean?” he responded.
“What is that?” she said more forcefully, pointing.
Matt didn’t see it. The jellyfish that only Jessica saw was alive, moving. She didn’t want to touch it.
“That. Matt, what is that?”
“You are pointing at the ground,” he said as he walked to Bill’s door.
“You don’t see that?”
“What?” he asked as he rang Bill’s doorbell.
Jessica stared at the convulsing blob. She shouldn’t touch it. Maybe she should kick it?
Bill didn’t answer the door. Matt rang again, then started pounding on the door. Nothing. He grabbed the old doorknob and twisted it. It didn’t move.
“Bill! It’s Matt! Something happened at the bar!” Matt repeatedly slammed his fist against the door.
Jessica contemplated kicking the jellyfish.
“He must be out somewhere,” Matt called back to Jessica.
Jessica kicked the jellyfish. It oozed and shuddered, but didn’t move, as if adhered to the grass.
“Do you seriously not see this?” Jessica asked. Matt walked back to her.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“That!” she screamed, kicking it again.
“Okay. I need you to pull it together, Jessica. Seriously. We need to figure this out. Are you wasted right now? Do I need to take you home?”
“I’m fine. Matt, there is a fucking jellyfish right here and you are pissing me off.”
Matt looked at Jessica, trying to see something in her eyes, but it was dark. There weren’t a lot of lights in this part of town. A few blocks down, the lights were typically unbearable, but here it was dark.
It was very dark, in fact. Matt looked at the neighboring houses. No lights on at all. He looked back toward Brewsters. Most of the businesses were closed, but there seemed to be an ongoing glow. State Street was always bright.
Four counties converged here on the river. It was a strange place. It had always been a strange place. Millions of years ago, water built strangeness into this place, then people showed up and things got weirder. Occasional fossils would emerge, but they were occasional enough that no people, even ones interested in fossils, bothered a real excavation. The fossil shop in town had a “going out of business sale” sign up for 45 years, still going strong.
A thorough excavation of the area would have to go through the roads and fudge shops, the House of Wonders and the old bars. So, the little fossils mostly stayed put, but once in a while, someone would stumble upon the ancient remains of some organism that swam in ancient water. The interior of the fossil shop was plastered with signs that read: “everything is genuine,” while enthusiastic clerks sold plastic figurines.
Matt’s mind went to Doug.
“Do you know where Doug lives?”
Jessica looked away from the jellyfish. “Obviously.”
“I think we need Doug.”
Jessica had a clever joke, but she just said, “Okay.”
Matt had to drive. Doug’s house was a bit outside of Town, where it was truly dark.
As they approached Doug’s house, Jessica knew she had to say something. She was shaking. She had to release energy.
“I bet he sleeps naked.”
Matt rolled his eyes but didn’t respond.
Doug wasn’t naked. He was home, though. He wore a ratty Dead Kennedys t-shirt and gray sweatpants.
“Hey guys. Why the hell are you here? I’m kinda getting stoned privately,” Doug said sleepily from behind the door.
“Something happened at the bar,” Matt said, trying to maintain his composure, keep his voice from shaking.
“There are jellyfish in town,” Jessica said, less composed, her words tumbling from her mouth like a gatling gun.
Doug opened the door and looked at Jessica curiously. “Huh.”
“Not ‘huh,’ dumbass. There are seriously jellyfish in town,” she said. He was becoming less attractive to her.
Matt intervened, gesturing toward Jessica. “I don’t know what all that’s about, Doug, but the bar, like, blew up. I couldn’t get downstairs,” he said, trying to prevent his voice from quavering.
Doug smiled charmingly. “That’s not good.”
“Uh, no, it’s not,” Jessica said.
“Bill’s not home,” Matt said. “I don’t know what to do.”
Doug thought for a moment. “Stuff happens,” he said, finally.
“Not super helpful,” Jessica said.
“Nope,” he responded. “Did you call the police?”
“No,” Matt replied, suddenly feeling very stupid.
“Ok. That’s good.”
“It is?” Matt said.
“Yeah. Let’s check it out.”
Matt, Jessica, and Doug went back to Town, Matt driving, Jessica in the back seat, and Doug riding shotgun. No one was on the street. It was weird. There was always someone on State Street, whether buying crap during the day, bar-hopping at night, or sleeping in front of the House of Wonders.
No one was sleeping in front of the House of Wonders. “Why are the lights on?” Matt asked as he parked the car. There were no other cars on the street. The road was vacant.
The House of Wonders was a tourist trap. Grandpa never let Matt go when he was a kid. “Someone must be in there,” Matt said.
Doug didn’t say anything in return, but he got out of the car in a hurry. He ran to the huge window on the front of the building, crouching below the sill. Matt leaned back to look at Jessica. “What’s he doing?”
Jessica was looking past Doug to the interior of the building. “Jellyfish.”
“Okay. What’s your thing with the damn jellyfish?” Matt asked.
“You really can’t see them?” Jessica sounded like she might cry. “It looks like the ocean.”
“Okay.” Matt got out of the car and walked toward Doug. Jessica stayed in the car, staring at the House of Wonders.
“Don’t let them see you,” Doug said as Matt approached.
“Why?” Matt was getting tired, but also nervous. He knelt beside Doug, leaning into him just a little.
“People hate this place,” Doug said. “The House of Wonders wasn’t supposed to be built here. People were pissed. At least that’s what my mom says. I don’t know why those guys are in there, but if they’re all together, something’s wrong.”
“What guys?” Matt asked.
“I don’t recognize all of them, but Emmet Fischer and Carl Becker are super rich guys who funded most of this town. I don’t know the other ones.”
Matt saw nothing. No jellyfish. No businessmen.
He did see the river. The House of Wonders was adjacent to the river, built on a cliff with a view. And the river was rising. Perceivably. He could see the river rising.
“Doug,” Matt said quietly while touching Doug’s shoulder. “Do you see that?”
Jessica was standing behind them. “Time to go, guys,” she said.
“What?” Matt asked.
Jessica looked pale and sad. She had pulled her hair out of the rubber band she usually kept it in. She was holding her plastic dreamcatcher necklace in her hand.
“Time to go.”
The river kept rising. Matt could see it.
They walked to Brewsters, just up the hill. Doug unlocked the door. Bill was standing by the bar. The beer was no longer shooting out of the broken taps.
“I’m sorry, Bill,” Jessica said.
Bill looked old. “What exactly happened here?”
All three bartenders stared back at Bill’s sunken eyes, not knowing what to say.
Doug was the first to manifest words. “Fischer and Becker and a bunch of other guys are in the lobby of the House of Wonders right now.”
“What are those assholes up to?” Bill asked to no one in particular, starting toward the front door.
“No. I don’t want to go back there,” Jessica said quietly. She was still holding her necklace, not wearing it.
“Then don’t,” Bill replied bluntly.
“I don’t want you to go there, either,” Jessica said. She was shaking.
Bill turned toward her, his darkened eyes looking weak and forceful at the same time.
“Something’s wrong,” Jessica said.
“No shit,” Doug said. Bill remained silent. Matt walked to the door.
He looked down the street. The lights were still on at the House of Wonders.
“You should stay with Jessica,” Bill said as he walked past Matt. Doug nodded to Matt, as he followed Bill out the door.
Matt wasn’t so sure Bill was right. Jessica was holding her necklace with both hands now, the plastic rattling against itself. As he looked at her downturned face, Matt felt like something had left her. She was a happy person, and now the happy had abandoned her. Without it, she was as hollow as the plastic she was grabbing too tightly.
Maybe Bill was right. Jessica shouldn’t be alone.
“Hey, you okay?” Matt asked, putting his hand on her shoulder.
“Why are there jellyfish everywhere?”
Matt gently took the necklace out of her hands. “I’m really sorry, Jessica. I don’t know what you mean.”
She didn’t say anything. She just sat down on the floor. Matt handed the necklace back to her.
He sat down next to her, “Do you want a hug?”
“Yep,” she said.
They sat there, on the 80-year-old, beer-soaked, oak floor, quietly.
Matt checked his phone. It was a blank, black screen. Dead.
After about 10 minutes, Matt got bored. “Do you want to walk down to the river with me?” he asked.
Jessica thought about it for a bit. “Sure,” she answered, finally.
They cut over a block, so they wouldn’t have to walk past the House of Wonders. Matt didn’t want Jessica to see it, whatever was happening there.
They walked down a concrete staircase that should have led to a landing next to the water. The landing was submerged, though, so they stopped a few steps above their goal.
They sat on the same stair, closer to each other than would have been necessary.
“Have you ever seen the river this high?” Matt asked.
“No. Did they open the dam?” Jessica asked back, her voice shaking from the vibrations of her body.
“I don’t know.” Matt was getting too anxious to form conclusions.
After a few seconds, Jessica asked, “Do you really not see the jellyfish?”
“No, I don’t,” he responded, starting to feel annoyance along with his anxiety.
“It’s slowing down.”
“What is?”
“I don’t know. All of it. The river. My brain. I think something’s wrong with my brain. It’s slower.” She was blurry, vibrating. Matt rubbed his eyes, but she wouldn’t come into focus.
Matt did notice the speed of her speaking was changing. Her voice seemed slower, even as her body seemed to shake faster.
“I’ve never understood this Town,” Matt said.
She looked up at him, “What’s to understand?”
“The rocks and the landscape and whatever are so cool. So interesting. Why put all this tourist shit here?”
“You just answered your own question, idiot,” Jessica said, a little of her energy returning, her vibrations slowing.
“Sassy,” Matt replied, smiling.
Jessica didn’t say anything. She was starting to slump, like she was going to fall asleep right there on the stairs.
“Hey,” Matt said.
“What?” Jessica replied, her voice whispering.
“Jessica. Are you okay?”
The water was rising. Matt put his hands under Jessica’s armpits, lifted her up, and laid her over his shoulder, holding her around the waist. She was limp. He walked her back up the stairs.
At the top of the staircase, he turned left. He should find out what Bill and Doug were doing, and he’d just have to take Jessica with him. He walked the block and turned to look up State Street, toward the House of Wonders. The vacantness was striking. The Town was empty.
He carried Jessica across the street, diagonally crossing from one corner of the intersection to the other. The lights were on at the House of Wonders, but the street was still empty. The weird afterglow of the Town bugged him more than he remembered. The other businesses were closed and empty, but the street never seemed to stop shining a grimy, unintentional kind of shine.
The interior of the House of Wonders was lit with intention because people were doing business inside.
Matt knelt to lay Jessica on the small patch of grass next to the building. He put two fingers on the side of her neck, just to be sure. She was sleeping and, more importantly, breathing. He positioned her on her right side, just in case she wasn’t as sober as she had claimed to be and walked around the corner. Her necklace dangled out from her jeans pocket.
He still saw no people through the big window. He saw the House of Wonders ticket desk, the posters of anomalous human-like figures and UFOs lining the walls, the popcorn machine, and the bright overhead lights, but no people.
“Ok, Grandpa. Do I go in or do I not? Help me out.” He thought that he thought the words, but he said them out loud. When he realized the words were audible, he felt embarrassed, but there was no one around to hear him. He pulled the door open.
The first thing he saw was Doug’s muscly arm, reaching forward, his palm outstretched as if to sign “stop.” His shoulder was tensed and huge, risking breaking the sleeve of his flimsy punk t-shirt. His face was clenched in rage.
Bill was standing next to him, his posture calm, but his voice booming. “I didn’t agree to it!” he yelled.
Matt looked to the right. He saw what Doug had seen previously through the window, men in dark suits with paunches and receding hairlines. Matt didn’t know their names, but he knew they were important. None of them looked at him as he walked toward Doug and Bill.
“Your dad did, and his dad did too,” a suited, balding man said, calmly.
“No, Carl! They did not!” Bill shouted.
Matt moved forward and instinctively laid his hand on Doug’s bulging shoulder, ducking behind him. Doug was cold, frozen, inhuman. It felt like Matt was touching the sandstone that time and water had compressed, not the human he worked with every day, a Cambrian outcropping bursting through the House of Wonders. His stomach started churning, threatening sickness.
There was leftover popcorn in the popcorn machine.
“They signed the contracts, Bill. You can’t undo that, no matter how bleeding your heart is. It’s happening,” Carl said.
“This river is sacred. How dare you, you little shitbag?” Bill shouted, his voice faltering.
Matt took his hand off Doug’s shoulder, revolted. Doug wasn’t moving. He didn’t seem alive.
“Your grandfather agreed to the adjustment. It will be an economic boon. And if you don’t think so, the court will correct you,” Carl said.
Bill knelt, balancing his exhausted body above his wavering legs. Matt saw his defeat without knowing the terms of the battle.
Matt stepped away from Doug. “What are you proposing?” he asked, his voice quavering despite his attempt at courage. He had no idea what these people were talking about. Bill wasn’t the kind of guy to cower.
“Who are you? Get out,” a different suit-wearer said, his voice infused with contempt.
“It was agreed,” another suit-wearer said. “The river will be redirected for the new development. The papers are signed and legal.”
Matt stood a little taller. He stretched his spine vertically. He reached back to swipe his ass. He saw a little cloud of Cambrian dust in his periphery.
“Commercial development?” Matt asked, calming the quaver.
“Yes. The agreement will provide a better location for the water show and associated businesses. Celebrate the heritage.” The suit-wearer turned to Bill, still cowering. “It was part of the long-term plan. We are ready to implement. Celebrate the history, Bill.”
Bill looked up at Matt. “These old fucks missed the point, Matt.”
Matt looked at the old, suited men. “Why are you meeting here, this late?”
“It’s time,” a different old man said.
“Because the river’s rising? Because the fossils are suddenly coming to life? What do you mean ‘it’s time?’” Matt asked, surprised by his own assertiveness.
“Young man, you are not welcome here,” said Carl Becker.
“Not welcome,” said Emmet Fischer.
“Not welcome, you fuckers,” said Jessica.
She was standing in the doorway, but she was shaking, as if out of measurable time perception.
“You are not welcome here!” she screamed at the suited men.
Matt ran back to Doug, standing behind him, holding Doug’s outstretched, brittlely hard arm.
Emmet Fischer walked toward her, “Who the hell are you, you little bitch?”
Jessica raised her middle finger. Her necklace was on her neck.
Doug’s arm was starting to feel less stony. Matt was uncomfortable holding onto it. He let go and backed up, moving closer to an old bearded-woman poster.
Wetness seeped into his Converse shoes. He looked down to see the standing water. The river was rising. It had risen enough to reach the House.
Matt started to walk toward Jessica, who was visibly shaking, vibrating, blurry.
“Don’t,” she said, turning sharply toward him. He didn’t.
The water was rising between the floor tiles as the river glacially retook the House, and the suited men started noticing. Some went out the back door behind the ticket desk. Some stayed.
“What did you do?” Carl Becker shouted at Jessica.
“What did you do?” Jessica shouted at Carl. “My family was on this river millennia before yours started shitting in it.”
The water was rising, and tailored cuffs were getting wet.
Doug’s muscles were malleable again, and he relaxed his arm, no longer statuesque.
“Matt, get out of here,” Doug said, rubbing the back of his arm.
“And go where? No.” Matt responded, leaning back against the bearded-woman poster.
“Go to Brewsters,” Doug said.
Matt thought he should just go back to the City. The Town was collapsing, and he didn’t know why. But he couldn’t leave Doug, Jessica, and Bill, even though they all clearly understood what was happening better than he did.
“Nope,” he said.
Bill stood up, his knees wet from the rising water. “We’re leaving.” He looked at Jessica, who was still vibrating, out of time. “Gotta get you home.”
Jessica kept shaking as they walked up State Street, leaving the grumpy businessmen to deal with the now-flooding House of Wonders. They walked uphill to Brewsters. Doug, Matt, Bill, and the flickering Jessica.
“They can’t really do that, can they?” asked Matt when they arrived at the bar, “change the river?”
“They can, actually,” Bill replied, sitting at the corner of the bar.
Jessica wasn’t shaking anymore.
“Are you okay?” Matt asked her.
“Yes,” she said. “I want this to end.”
“What?” Matt asked.
Bill spoke over Jessica’s reply, “Rich guy bullshit.”
Jessica didn’t acknowledge the interruption. She just looked at Bill, sadly.
Doug, thawed, looked at Matt. “It’s over now. The river is fixing it.”
“Why don’t you ever make sense?” Matt asked. Doug looked better now. His face was relaxed, his body elongated. Doug put his arm around Matt’s shoulder.
“I’ve been here my whole life,” Doug said. “Stuff happens here.”
Jessica twitched.
“Yeah, stuff happens here,” she said.
Bill looked at the young people in his employ. “No. That’s not good enough.” He walked behind the bar to the iPad by the soundboard, hoping for some Springsteen. He scrolled through the catalogue, found the song he sought, and hit play.
Jessica looked at Bill. “It isn’t yours,” she said. “This place was never yours.”
The river didn’t swell enough to reach Brewsters, though the fate of the House of Wonders was a mystery to Matt. The beer-dampness of the bar was enough to make them all uncomfortable through the night. Bill didn’t want to go home, and neither did the rest of them. Jessica wasn’t shaking anymore, Doug’s body wasn’t stiff, Bill refused to leave Brewsters, and Matt was content sleeping with his head on Doug’s lap. All of them reeked of old beer. But the sun rose, and so did they.
State Street was dry, and the coffee shop across the street was open, sending a dark, clean smell onto the block, cutting the stale hops. A grumpy dad was getting lattes and scones for his ungrateful family. They were waiting eagerly at a picnic table.
Matt looked down the road toward the House of Wonders. There was a line of people waiting for admission. He came back inside.
“I gotta fix the taps,” Bill said as he lifted himself up from the floor. “Doug, can you help me?”
“No. Sorry man,” Doug said. “I can’t help you with the taps.”
“It’s not yours,” Jessica said. “It was never yours.”
Bill looked at his employee-children. “It could be yours.”
Doug squeezed Matt’s arm.
“You can’t let those assholes be in charge, Bill,” Jessica said.
“I just need to sell the place,” Bill replied, quietly but convincingly.
“Please don’t,” Jessica said, quietly and unconvincingly.
“I’ll sell to Emmett.”
Jessica leaned against the sticky wall. “No.”
Matt looked out the door, down the hill toward the river. The street was dry, as the dark water carried garbage 10 miles to Grandpa’s lake house. A little girl was eating fudge at 9 o’clock in the morning. They needed to clean the place up for the lunch rush. Doug grabbed a dishtowel and started wiping down the bar.