“Let’s play statue maker.”
We were in Hannah’s living room, all of us drunk and some of us more than a little stoned. An album she had found in a second hand store, full of skips and scratches, with a heavy bass and a funk guitar played on the turntable. She turned down the music, stood up and made the suggestion, which, if you knew Hannah, was not a suggestion at all.
The idle chatter which had started our little party to celebrate the survival of another semester had dwindled as evening became night and night turned to early morning.
“What’s statue maker?” Sonja asked. She was sitting on Jay’s lap, absent-mindedly playing with the brown curls at his nape. Her nails were long, painted dark.
Hannah explained. “One of us is the statue maker. Another is the buyer. The rest of you are statues.” She gestured to the room – along with Sonja, Jay and myself, Derek was there, sitting in the overstuffed chair, his eyes narrow slits, like he was on the verge of passing out. You had to know him to realize that was how he always looked, like he was in a permanent haze.
“The statue maker spins the rest of you around one-by-one and lets go. However you land, you have to stay that way, like a statue.
“Stoned still,” Derek said. We all laughed.
“The statue maker takes the buyer around. At each of you, the statue maker decides what you are based on how you landed. You have to act out whatever it is you are supposed to be – mummy, eagle, ballerina, whatever. In the end, the buyer decides which one to buy.”
“Then what?” Sonja asked.
“You win,” Hannah says.
“I mean, what happens to the statue once you buy it?” She smiled at Jay.
“It was never part of the game,” Hannah replied. “We were kids.”
“That’s not how I remember it,” Derek said. “In our version. You just stood still, and the last one to move lost.”
“Boring,” Jay replied.
“My apartment, my rules,” Hannah said.
“It’s Sonja’s apartment, too.”
“I’m just a roommate,” Sonja deferred. “Hannah’s on the lease.” She said this like this was some sort of mock trial, like she was making a point of law.
I didn’t want to play. I was happy to sit and nurse what should be my last beer, become lost in the lingering scent of pot mixed with the sandalwood incense Hannah liked so much. Maybe just fall asleep here, Hannah having taken off my shoes, thrown a blanket over me while I snored. Dream, perhaps of Hannah, most likely of Sonja. Dreams I would not remember when I woke, my head aching, my mouth full of cotton, a pang in my stomach that seemed like it would never go away.
Jay pulled Sonja toward her. He had his hand up her shirt. “I wouldn’t mind being statue maker. Like the idea of this one having to do whatever I say.”
Sonja looked down, embarrassed. She tried to move his hand away, but it wouldn’t budge. Hannah shook her head. “Come on.”
We filed out of the apartment. I made sure Hannah and I were the last to leave. “He’s a pig,” I said, referring to Jay. “She looks up to you. Can’t you do something?”
Hannah pressed against me. She was almost my height. Our hips, what there was of them, touched. We were both tall and bony, which might have been part of the initial attraction.
“Why don’t you do something?” She asked.
“Jay’s my friend,” I replied.
“That’s just an excuse.”
“I could use your help.”
We were heading down the stairs. Hannah sighed. “I guess I owe you for how I used to treat you. For not being a very good girlfriend.”
“You weren’t that bad.”
“Thanks.” Sarcasm dripped from her pale lips. “We weren’t a good fit for each other. We both know it. I’m too controlling, and you’re too easy to control.”
I didn’t respond. I recalled the day we broke up. The night steamy. The windows open. The still air. Us both naked, side-by-side, sweating against a thin sheet draped over us. One last time. She was the one who said the words, told me it was over. I merely agreed.
Hannah and Sonja lived in a century old apartment building, three stories, U-shaped with a courtyard in the center. The open end was fenced with wrought iron, a gate with the face of a lion in the center. Gargoyles perched on the roof overhead. A cat stalked across one of the wide stone window ledges. There was a flood light above the main door, and a few of the apartments above had on a light or two. Other than that, everything was dark. Summer was a month away, but still, the air was warm.
“We’re going to wake someone up,” I said.
“No one’s gonna care,” Derek replied. It was a neighborhood of students and transients, people here for only a short while, before they graduated, or saved some money, or got a new job and could afford to move to someplace better. Beyond the courtyard, cars raced up and down the main drag. It was not common to hear whir of sirens, the blare of car alarms, the barking of dogs.
“Statues don’t make noise,” Hannah replied. “I’ll be the statue maker.”
“Why you?” Jay asked. Hannah gave him a sideways look, hard and sharp. It was a look she often gave me when we were dating. One night a couple of months ago, we met at a St. Patrick’s Day party. The first time since our breakup. We sat outside on a park bench and had a long talk. We would always be friends, we agreed in the end. We kissed, to seal the deal. There was no passion in it.
“Sonja, you’re the buyer.” Hannah took her arm, pulled her away from Jay. Jay started to protest. We had been dorm mates freshman year. Not that he was in the room much. Always with some girl or another. Still was. He never cared for Hannah, especially when we were dating. He hit on her once. She saw right through his crap. He still came around though, because Hannah always had pot, and of course, because Sonja was there.
“It’s okay,” Sonja said. “I’d barf if you spun me around.”
So it was decided. While Sonja sat on the front stoop, Hannah spun each of the guys around in turn. She used our drunkenness to her advantage. She clasped our hands in hers and turned us each three times before letting go. Derek stumbled as he came to a stop, but remained on his feet, his back to her. Jay tried to stay on his feet as he came to a stop, but stumbled and landed on his stomach. Sonja laughed.
When my turn came, Hannah gripped me by the wrists and spun me so fast I thought my arms would rip from my shoulders. She spun me an extra time, a grin on her face, her long dark hair falling across her face. Bile rose up in my throat. She let go and I tripped as I left her clasp. I ended up on one knee, the palms of my hands sunk deep in the grass.
“Now, no one move,” Hannah said. I was faced away from her, but could hear her. That voice she used when she absolutely wanted her way.
I could just make out Derek to my far right, Jay, closer to me to my left. None of us moved. I tried to lift one of my hands from the ground, ever so slightly, but found that I couldn’t.
Hannah spoke like a ringmaster announcing an act, “Welcome to Hannah’s House of Magnificent Statues. What can I get for you?”
“I don’t know,” Sonja said, playing along, “What do you have?”
Hannah took Sonja by the hand, walked her over to Derek. She considered him a moment. “Here is a very special piece. We call it the Zombie.” She pressed an imaginary button on Derek’s back. He started moving in a wide circle, his arms limp, his knees locked. He made moaning sounds. As he turned towards me, I could see the blank look in his eyes, his mouth partly open. His naturally dark skin appeared ashen in the glow of the security light. I smelled something similar to rotting flesh.
He finished his circle while Sonja considered him, Hannah standing with her arms crossed. She reached out, hit the imaginary button. Derek became a statue again.
“Scary,” she said. “He’d be a big hit at my next Halloween party, but I don’t know if I’d want him around full time.
“Fair enough.” Hannah escorted her to where Jay lay on the ground.
“This one can be quite dangerous,” Hannah said.
“Seems harmless enough. Kind of cute. What do you call him?”
“Lucifer’s tail.” Hannah pressed her heel hard into Jay’s back. If it hurt, he didn’t show it. He started to squirm though, sliding through the grass, contorting himself in ways I didn’t think possible for a human being. He coiled his body, his arms tight against him as if they didn’t exist. It appeared as if he was struggling to resist, his neck muscles tight, his eyes wide, but he couldn’t break free. He rose up and faced the two women. He opened his mouth, hissed. His tongue went in and out. I couldn’t be sure, but could have sworn it was forked.
He lunged at Sonja, his jaws wide, as I’d seen him do so often with her when he wanted a wet, sloppy kiss. Normally, she’d oblige. This time, though, she stepped back, clung to Hannah’s arm.
Hannah hissed back. Jay recoiled, and as he did, Hannah reached out and hit him on the back again. He stopped, his body still wrapped around itself.
“I don’t want to play anymore,” Sonja said. Her voice quivered. She was shaking. I wanted to get up, call this all off, go to her, take her home. Still, though, I couldn’t move.
“You shouldn’t have made him like that.”
“He’s the way he is,” Hannah said. Sonja opened her mouth to speak again, but Hannah hushed her with a finger to her lips. She held her friend for a few moments, whispered something into her ear. Afterwards, Sonja calmed down. She stopped shaking, but her eyes were still wide as Hannah led her to me.
She pressed an imaginary button at my temple. I imagined, if she wanted, she could press it all the way into my brain.
She did not name me, so I did not move.
“What is it?” asked Sonja. “What does it do?”
“Absolutely nothing. It’s just a statue, nothing more.”
By now, I had enough of Hannah’s game. I tried to rise, but found I couldn’t. I couldn’t move my hands, my feet, any part of me. I tried to call out, but without being able to open my mouth, all that came out was a loud grunt.
Sonja frowned. That frown hurt more than anything Hannah could have done to me. “Not very impressive.”
Hannah tilted her head. “No. No, he’s not. So which will it be – zombie man, snake boy, or the rock here?”
Sonja walked back over to Jay. “He may be a slithering reptile, but he’s my slithering reptile.” She went to push the imaginary button on Jay’s back. A wry smile appeared on his face. I thought I could still see sharpened teeth.
I willed myself to move again, just a little. I focused on my little finger. Perhaps, if I concentrated all my energy to that one spot, something would happen. I pictured Sonja going home with Jay. Jay wrapping himself around her, his tongue still forked. Allowed the image to provide me focus.
My little finger trembled slightly.
Jay was straightened, moving again. Sonja wrapped her arms around him, kissed him. Hannah looked at them, then at me, eyebrows arched to sharpened points.
I raised my finger from the ground, slowly, surely. The rest of my fingers, then my hand followed. I raised my arm like some sort of 50’s sci fi robot.
Derek had been released from his zombie state. For him, the game was over. “It’s alive!” He shouted.
Sonja and Jay were heading back inside. I rose to my feet. My joints creaked as I moved towards them, but I was taking long strides, and they were swaying as they walked. I reached the door at the same time as them.
Jay turned to me, and as he did, I hit him in the jaw. My punch was harder than I had thought possible, I heard the cracking of bone.
Jay lay on the ground, stunned, he was wiggling his jaw in his hand. It wasn’t broken, but should have been. Sonja knelt beside him, her arm around his shoulder. She glared at me.
A couple of lights came on in the windows above. A few heads peaked out. Someone called out that they were trying to sleep.
Suddenly sober, I turned away, started out of the courtyard, my gait stiff. Sonja would never see me the way she saw Jay. Jay would never change. Even if I crushed every bone in his body. But I had to find this out for myself. Had to do it myself. Hannah knew me. Knew this.
Derek watched me go. Hannah stood on the sidewalk, leaning against the wrought iron fence. In the confusion, I didn’t realize she’d gotten ahead of me. “I told you I’d take care of things,” she said.
I hurried past her, each step smoother than the next. I clenched and unclenched my fist. It would hurt for at least a week. Hannah remained there, waiting as if expecting me to thank her.
I wasn’t sure if I should.
—
Manfred Gabriel’s work has appeared in numerous publications, most recently, Tryptich Tales, Bete Noire and Kasma Magazine.
Good story. I like the blend of magic realism, horror, and interesting characters.