rubbed the paper. “They're real,” he said.
“Of course they're real.”
“And how much of a payment will this cost me?”
“One quarter,” Gene said.
Tom mentally added that up. “Two and a half million?”
“No, no. You still don't understand. The ratios between this world and my realm are skewed. As long as I send something back that has some monetary value, it will maintain the balance. All I need is one quarter. Twenty-five cents. I've even taken the liberty of making change for you.”
On the coffee table, Tom saw ninety-nine dollars worth of twenties and singles, fanned out with four quarters atop it.
Gene held out his hand, and Tom dropped one of the quarters into it. Gene made a fist, blew through it like a magician at a kid's party, then opened it, one finger at a time, to show it empty.
“Done,” Gene said. “What else do you need? I can sell you a new car for a quarter.”
Gene made a fist again, blew through it, and when he opened it, two car keys on a Jaguar key fob fell into Tom's hand.
“It's in the driveway,” Gene said.
Tom rushed to the window, and there it was, a new Jaguar coupe, gleaming in charcoal grey, parked behind his Volkswagen.
He bought the keys for twenty-five cents.
Gene the Genie sat down in Tom's recliner. “By anyone's account, that's four wishes, my master. Are you convinced yet?”
Tom drained the Cognac and sat down on the couch, bracing himself for a moment of truth; steeling himself for disappointment. “There's only one thing I really want,” he said. “The only reason I'd even think about bidding on a 'magic lamp' on eBay from some novelty shop in Montana.”
“Ah, yes,” Gene said. “You've lost someone. It's a classic tale. The tragedy of a life too soon taken.”
“You already know?” Tom asked.
“There's evidence all around,” Gene said. He pointed to the photographs framed on the mantle, one of which was a wedding photo.
Tom and Lidia smiled for dozens of cameras that day, and there was nothing fake about it. It had been a happy day, and he remembered smiling a lot, whether it was on film or not.
“How long did you have with her?” Gene asked.
“We were married less than a year. A semi truck blew a tire on the interstate. Crushed her car between the trailer and the concrete barrier.”
“This is a big wish, Tom.”
“Can it even be done?”
“Anything can be done, but the token that must pass into the other realm for this one has to be blood.”
“You don't mean a life for a life? I won't do that.”
“Haven't you been paying attention, Tom? Haven't you figured it out yet? It only takes a token. Just a few drops should do, as long as it's fresh, human blood.”
Tom held up his left hand, the one that should still bleeding, but wasn't. “Wait,” he said.
He went into the kitchen and took the blood-soaked paper towels out of the trash. There were five or six of them, all crumpled together, and still wet.
“Will this do?”
Gene took them, rubbed the corner of one between his thumb and finger, unconcerned that he was handling some one else's blood.
“It's probably more than we need. It'll be perfect.”
“I wish for Lidia back,” Tom whispered.
“Hold out your hands and close your eyes.”
Tom did. Gene the Genie took Tom's hands in his own.
“Open your eyes, Tom,” but the voice wasn't Gene's.
Tom's eyes popped opened, and he found himself staring into the sparkling green eyes that he'd missed more than anything for the past seven months.
“Lidia,” he whispered.
“You okay there, Hun?” she asked.
He pulled her close, breathed in the scent of her shampoo as he held her, and right then, he didn't care if he'd used up all his wishes, or if Gene the Genie was more deceitful than Satan himself, Tom had the only thing in his life that really mattered.
Tom's knees wouldn't support him. He fell into the sofa, pulling Lidia with him, crushing her to him so he'd never have to let her go again. He learned what it meant to weep as he blubbered her name over and over again.
She tried to pull away. “You're scaring me, honey,” she said. “What's wrong?”
“Is it real?” Tom asked. “Are you really here?” He had to keep touching her to make sure she wasn't made of smoke.
She laughed a nervous little laugh that was like heavenly music. “Where else would I be? Tom? What's wrong?”
“She doesn't know, Tom,” someone said. Tom realized Gene was still there, sitting on the edge of the recliner with his elbows on his knees, watching.
“She doesn't remember, and no one else will, either. They'll remember the accident, that she spent the night in the hospital with cuts and bruises, and that you never left her side. As far as the world knows, Lidia spent the last seven months going to work every day, having a birthday party, posting status updates on Facebook, being upset with herself over a twenty-five cent fine because she accidentally kept a library book too long.”
“Tom? Who is this? How do you know about my library book? What's going on?”
But Tom couldn't speak. He still found himself staring at her in a kind of shocked disbelief. No one else remembered the pain of her dying, except him.
“Everything's okay, Honey,” Tom told her. “This is Gene. He's a... a friend.”
Gene the Genie stood up and shook Lidia's hand. “I was just leaving,” he said. “I believe Tom was just about to wish for a week-long vacation.”
Tom nodded, knowing that was exactly what he wanted. “Gene, I wish to be left alone with my wife for a solid week.”
“Very well.” He looked up at the ceiling, doing his mental calculation thing. “Your pantry and refrigerator are stocked, so you won't even have to leave the house for a while. Telemarketers tremble in fear at the thought of calling this phone number, and you both filled out the papers for time off work two months ago. Am I forgetting anything?”
“I think that covers it,” Tom said. “How can I ever repay you for this?”
“Oh... I figure this one is worth the price of a used Volkswagen.”
“You want my car?”
“I'm thinking 'road trip.' It's a beautiful Saturday night, and I've been... confined... for way too long. I could use a little fresh air. This is California, right? Maybe I'll drive down the coast, find a bed and breakfast, drink some wine.”
Tom dug into his pants pockets for the keys. “It's a fair trade,” he said. “You've earned it.”
Gene the Genie took Tom's car keys. “I'll be back in a week,” he said. “But remember that I'm still bound to the lamp. If you need anything, just open the lid.”
And with that, Gene was off. Tom looked out the window, saw that the Volkswagen had magically changed places with the Jaguar, and watched the Genie drive away.
“You gave him your car? Who was that, Tom? How are you going to get to-- Oh my god. Is this real?”
She'd found the pile of money.
“Lidia, honey, there's a lot that I can't explain right now. A lot that I don't believe myself at this point. You have to trust me.”
“Trust you? Tom, I love you, but you have to tell me what you've done. This much money... Please tell me you haven't done something illegal.”
Tom took her by the hand and pulled her close.
“Everything will be okay now,” he promised her. “It's just the two of us, all alone for the week.” He pointed at the stacks of cash on the table. “In fact, nothing says we ever have to leave the house again if we don't want to. We have the rest of our lives. Gene will take care of us.”
“Gene? I don't understand.”
“And I can't explain it right now. Gene will be back in a week, and we'll tell you everything then. For now, just come and sit so I can
look at you.”
She pushed him playfully away. “Don't be a freak,” she said. “I need to go take a shower. I feel like I've been covered with dirt.”
“I'll join you,” Tom said, and led her upstairs.
It was like their honeymoon all over again.
Afterward, they found champagne and tins of smoked oysters among their provisions.
“What are we celebrating?” Lidia asked.
“Life itself,” Tom told her, and they drained their glasses to that.
They only left the house once that week, to test drive the Jaguar. The car smelled of leather and newness, had 8 miles on the odometer, a full tank of gas, and it purred like its namesake.
It should have been the perfect week. He had Lidia back! But Tom found he couldn't relax.
“Have a care. He is more deceitful than you can imagine,” kept crossing his mind like the lyrics to a bad song he couldn't get out of his head.
Tom kept looking for the chicanery, and he was certain there was one. Despite all he'd done, despite zero evidence to the contrary, Tom did not trust that Genie.
He found himself analyzing every move Lidia made, every mannerism, trying to disprove his own thoughts that it wasn't really her. He was ashamed of himself for it, but he couldn't help it.
Of course it was really Lidia, but had she always tapped her thumbnail against her bottom teeth when she concentrated on the daily crossword? Had she always had that little freckle on her left shoulder blade? Maybe it was just because she'd been gone for seven months. Maybe he just forgot. But still...
He tried to tell himself it was just a simple matter of overcoming his own disbelief, that he was probably just in shock, but Tom spent the whole week over-analyzing everything.
He watched her breathing,