A Little Black Book

I wake and begin sobbing.

The Little Black Book sits on my nightstand.

My life seems perfect.

I have a beautiful home, a brand-new car, an amazing job…

But I didn’t earn any of it.

The Book gave it to me.

And there’s always a cost.

When I was accepted to my first-choice college, my girlfriend broke up with me. When I got my first car, my parents got divorced.

I thought these were just coincidences.

The man I’d bought it from just told me that it would grant twenty wishes; one per page. There was no mention of a cost.

It wasn’t bad at first. I had falling outs with friends, girlfriends cheated on me, but the price got higher with each wish.

People started dying for my success.

I tried bringing the Book back to the man, but he was gone. I wasn’t surprised. That was always the way with these things.

I tried everything to get rid of the damn thing. I climbed mountains and threw it off the sides, buried it underground, and dropped it in a cement truck. In my desperation, I even tried to trick someone else into taking it.

Nothing worked and the book always ended up back at my side.

I don’t even decide what it gives and what it takes. The other day, I saw a car I liked. Yesterday morning, I woke up to someone at my door telling me I’d won the very same model. Later that afternoon, my dog escaped and was hit and killed by the car I’d seen. I buried my dog in the backyard and turned my pain on the Book.

I opened my liquor cabinet, threw the Book in the fireplace, emptied my bottles, and watched the blaze as I mourned my lost friend.

The Book haunts me: it’s in the bathroom as I shower, my closet when I dress, and my briefcase at work; a constant reminder of all I’ve lost and how little I’ve gained.

I go through the motions each day.

I don’t dare get close to any of my coworkers.

I don’t have friends anymore. I barely talk to my parents. I had only gotten close to my dog because I hadn’t believed the Book would be so cruel.

Now I stand in an aisle at a bookstore, looking over the newest novel in a series I like. Someone approaches from my side. I step back so they can pass, but they don’t. I look up to see a pretty girl at my side. She looks over my arm at the novel.

“Is that the new Swords and Ships?” She asks. “I’ve been looking all over for it!”

“Here,” I say, handing her the book. “I’ll buy a copy online.”

“Seriously? You don’t have to do that!”

“It’s fine. I’m usually too busy to read anyway.”

She stares at me for a long moment.

“That’s it! I’m buying you coffee as thanks!”

“Oh, that’s really not-”

“Sorry friend, but you don’t have a say in this!”

I relent. We head to some hole-in-the-wall place a few blocks down. It’s a pretentious, mock-speakeasy, but the coffee is hot and the chairs are comfortable.

The girl, who’s name I learn is Olivia, is a talkative woman. I listen as she speaks about her favorite books and TV shows. She got into Swords and Ships when a guy she liked mentioned he liked it. They didn’t end up together, but she got a new favorite book series.

I get lost as we talk and start opening up. I tell her about my job at the publishing agency, my parents splitting up, I even tell her that my dog died last night, though I’m not sure why.

“I’m so sorry…” she says. “I’ve never had dogs, but I do have a cat. Her name is Goblin and I don’t know what I’d do if someone killed her. I might actually kill them.”

“I thought about it,” I admit. “But it wasn’t their fault. It was the damn Book…”

I realize what I said. Olivia eyes me curiously, then glances down at her copy of Swords and Ships.

“This book?” She asks.

“No,” I say quickly. “Sorry, it’s a different book.”

Olivia stares at me for a long while. I get uncomfortable with prolonged eye contact and look away after a few seconds. I feign interest in my coffee and sip as if there’s anything left. Finally, she speaks.

“Tell you what; I need to get going. Give me your number. Once I finish this book, I’ll loan it to you.”

“I’m guessing this is another ‘I won’t take no for an answer’ situation?”

“You learn fast!”

We exchange numbers and I feel a warmth I haven’t known in years.

Immediately, the weight of the Black Book in my pocket hits and my heart sinks.

I decide that I’ll accept the book from her and return it when I’m done and that will be the end of it. There’s no need for Olivia to get hurt because I show subconscious interest in something.

I get a text less than two weeks later and we meet at a new coffee shop to hand off the book. She won’t let me just take the book and leave. When I get there, she already has a cup of coffee waiting for me. Olivia takes the next few minutes to rave about the book. She tells me how she couldn’t put it down and accidentally stayed up all night last night to finish it. Despite myself, I’m excited to read it.

The conversation soon shifts to other matters. Olivia tells me how she’s working on becoming an author. I jokingly ask if that’s why she’s so interested in me.

“Of course,” she winks and looks at me appraisingly. “Well, not the only reason.”

I laugh, feeling my face get hot. I change the subject back to her book and she starts to tell me about it. It’s an urban fantasy novel about a girl with mysterious abilities that she didn’t know about before two brooding boys showed up and turned her world upside down. My publisher brain zones out. I’ve read dozens of stories just like this.

She grabs my attention back when she tells me the twist. The girl joins the evil overlords, taking over the world and the boys enter into a gay relationship and try to stop her.

Now that’s something new. I tell Olivia I’d like to read her manuscript sometime. That, finally, seems to fluster the unflappable woman. Regardless, Olivia agrees to let me see her manuscript. After I’ve finished Swords and Ships first.

I start the book as soon as I get home and understand immediately what Olivia had been talking about. At the end of the week, I call in sick to work just so I can finish it. I call Olivia and we talk for hours about the novel.

At the end of the call, she agrees to meet tomorrow at yet another coffee shop. She texts me the address and I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

The next day, I meet Olivia for coffee at a coffeeshop called Pot and Page. We talk about new things I’ve thought about in regard to the novel. She sits back and smiles as I talk. I get self-conscious at her stare.

“What?” I ask at last.

“Nothing. Just nice to see you passionate about something. You were so down when we first met. I was hoping you were more than just a handsome face and a brooding mind.”

I blush and look down.

“Anyway, I should give your book back.”

I reach into my bag and my heart sinks. Instead of Olivia’s copy of the novel, the Little Black Book mocks me. I try to stay composed.

“I accidentally grabbed the wrong book. Do you mind if I run home quickly and grab it? I live just around the block.”

“Sure! Let’s go!”

“’Let’s?’” I ask.

“Yeah! I’m not just gonna sit here.”

I nervously walk with Olivia. I’ve started to like this girl. That’s a problem. My home is the last bastion I have. I’m miserable. If I do this, someone will be hurt.

“Hey,” she says eventually. “Just so you know, I’m not some dreamgirl here to fix your life and teach you how to be happy, ok? You’re an adult, you’ve gotta figure that out for yourself.”

“Ok?” I say.

“It’s just, this was starting to feel like a rom-com. I felt kinda bad when we met. You gave me the book and told me your dog died and I didn’t wanna just ditch you. But I saw real passion in you today. That’s what I’m looking for. Someone who’s an adult and can match my energy.”

“I’m confused,” I admit.

“If we’re gonna start dating, I figured I should lay all my cards on the table.”

“Dating?”

“Yeah. Aren’t we- I thought you ‘forgot’ the book as an excuse to…” She freezes. “I totally misunderstood the situation… I’m sorry. You can keep the book, I should go.”

“Wait! It’s not like that,” I tell her. “I like you. I do. I just… have some stuff that’s happened that makes dating hard.”

The Book in my bag feels like a brick.

“I understand. But you can’t give up just because one person sucks. You know?”

Olivia interlaces her fingers in mine. I feel the weight of the Book disappear. Maybe this time it’ll be different. Maybe the Book will take another toll.

At my home, I bring her to the library and hand her the book. Before I can do or say anything, she reaches up to kiss me. I forget about the Book and melt into her. We spend the night together.

We continue to see each other. When she finishes her book, I help edit it for publication. Olivia refuses to use my company, wanting to get published on her own merits. And she does. I quit my job so I can help advertise. I hope losing my job was the final toll for the Little Black Book, as I start to see it less frequently. Maybe it understands that being with Olivia is the last thing I’ll ever want.

Weeks turn to months. On our second anniversary, we have a talk about our relationship. We both know that we were each other’s future. She moves in with me.

Ten years and five novels later, Olivia and I are more in love than ever. So of course, that’s when the Book returns. I’d forgotten about it. But there it sat on my nightstand, that single page remaining.

The next day, Olivia collapses as we cook dinner. I bring her to the hospital where they run a battery of tests and determine that her organs are failing. There’s a treatment, but it’s costly and experimental. $19,876.69, to be precise. Our insurance won’t cover it. We do alright with book sales, but Olivia insisted on donating almost everything to charities.

I’d agreed, but now realize what a mistake that was. We agree to the treatment. I’m determined to find a way to pay for it. There are plenty of crowdfunding sites that can help. As I work on registering for one, a knock comes at the door.

I look to the Book.

No…

Please…

I answer the door.

I feel sick as I see a man with a camera crew and an oversized check for $20,000. He mistakes my sobs for tears of joy and hands me the check, explaining I can cash it anytime. I’m numb as I feel my phone vibrate.

I answer.

A doctor explains that my love had an adverse reaction to the treatment.

She tells me they did everything they could.

That there was nothing anybody could have done.

I look at the Book as it and the last page turn black and crumble to ash.

“Wish granted,” a voice whispers.