Alive

Tessa had met Freddie at a MeetUp group. She wasn’t sure why she had invited him back to her apartment, only that she had been lonely that evening. He had seemed nice at the bar. He bought her two glasses of chardonnay and offered to get a third. Tessa had declined, not wanting him to feel entitled to anything from her.

They were kissing on Tessa’s brown leather couch when Tessa decided she wanted the man to leave. His first mistake was plunking his foot on her beautiful new coffee table. The table was small and made of sleek blonde wood. Its thin legs curved to the floor bent out of a single piece of wood. Tessa loved its subtle elegance.

Freddie’s breath was minty, his cologne subtle, but his lips were chapped, and his fingers were pinching. His head pushed into her face so that her neck crooked uncomfortably. Tessa slid back on the couch, putting her hands on his chest.

“You know it’s getting late, and I have to get up early,” she leaned away.

“No problem,” he slid closer. “I can spend the night and get up early.” He leaned in again, pressing a sloppy kiss on her cheek as she twisted her head. Tessa stood and moved to the other side of the little coffee table.

“I know, but I need to get some rest,” her voice shook. “This has been fun, though. Why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll call you.”

“You’re not going to call,” the man’s face reddened. “You ladies never call.” He stressed ladies like he wanted to use another word.

“I’m sorry,” Tessa shrugged. “I’m just not feeling it.”

“Feeling it!” Freddie stood abruptly and kicked the little table across the room. It clattered against the wall. Tessa jumped in fright.

“You were feeling that wine I got you,” he stepped forward. Tessa backed away. She glanced toward the balcony door, but it was a dead end four stories up. She backed into a table, grabbing at the lamp.

In the corner of her eye, she saw something impossible. The little table flipped over. Its thin, wooden legs undulated, more octopus-like than mammalian. Time slowed as Freddie moved toward her, and the table moved toward him. The man extended a thick arm, about to grab Tessa. The table reached his legs. It jumped at him, entwining its wooden limbs between the man’s legs and twisting so that he fell backward with a thud.

“What the hell?” he mumbled, looking at the table tangled between his legs. Tessa took the opportunity to kick Freddie as hard as she could in the side of the head. Despite her bare feet, his head snapped to the side. Tessa grabbed the metal lamp on the table behind her and raised it above her head.

“Get out!” she screamed. Freddie untangled himself from the table and stood, scrambling away from them. The little table gathered itself up and stood, putting itself between Tessa and Freddie like a tiny guard dog.

“Crazy bitch!” Freddie stumbled to the door. He opened it and flung himself out. Tessa dropped the lamp and hurried around the table. She grabbed his shoes and pitched them into the hallway. She then slammed the door and locked the deadbolt with a satisfying click. Still anxious, she moved the side table and pulled the couch against the door as a barricade. Heart pounding, she went to the kitchenette and sat on the floor against the cupboards. After a few seconds, the table ambled over to her. It lay down on the tiled floor, its legs tucked underneath it.

“I’m going insane,” she whispered. The table tilted one end as if trying to understand. The action was so dog-like that Tessa almost patted it. Instead, she threw up in the corner.

“He drugged me,” she said aloud. “You aren’t real. He drugged me.” But Tessa didn’t feel stoned or high or even drunk. She felt scared, anxious, and bewildered. The table wiggled a little forward, resting the edge of the surface on her big toe. Tessa wanted to pull back, but the action felt ungrateful. She reached out and stroked it with the tips of her fingers. The wood felt hard and smooth but warmer than it should.

Tessa knew she should go to the hospital, but looking at the barricaded door, she couldn't bear to open it. What if he was still in the hall? What if he was in the lobby? Tessa was no stranger to a party drug, and she didn’t feel high. She felt tired. She got up and cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, then straightened the living room, leaving the couch in front of the door. The Table sat in the kitchen, but Tessa felt it watch her as she worked.

Finally exhausted, Tessa went to the bedroom and crawled into bed. Leaving the light on, she snuggled into her blankets. The Table wandered in, peeking around the corner of the door. It walked up to the bed and stopped. Before she could hide her head under the covers, the Table peeked over the edge. It propped its front legs on the bed and paused. Tessa sunk back into her pillows in horror.

“This is so weird,” she whispered. The Table bounced a little, still waiting. Tessa watched it with increasing anxiety.

“Fine!” she said. “You can come up.” The Table leaped onto the bed. It circled around and then curled up by her feet. Tessa gulped and almost rolled out of bed as it snuggled into her comforter.

“I’m losing my mind.” Tessa blinked, waiting for it to vanish. Tessa remembered the thing defending her. She fell into a light, restless sleep.

She woke with the sun. The Table was still curled on the end of her bed. She got up and headed toward the bathroom. The Table stood, jumping onto the floor behind her. She closed the door on it and went to the sink. Setting her phone down, she turned on the water and splashed her face. After using the toilet, she came back out.

The Table was sitting on the floor, waiting for her.

“I don’t think you’re real,” she told it. “I’m going to the hospital. You are a drug-fueled hallucination, and I’m going to the doctor.”

Tessa texted her boss to tell him she was sick. She then pushed the couch away from the door. She looked out the peephole and, on seeing the hallway clear, proceeded out.

At the hospital, she waited most of the morning. The nurse, after hearing that Tessa had not been sexually assaulted, took her blood and left her sitting on a hospital bed. After more waiting, a doctor appeared and informed Tessa that there were no drugs in her system.

“But I’m still hallucinating,” Tessa told the frazzled woman.

“Are you seeing anything unusual right now?” the doctor asked.

“No, not at this moment.”

“I understand that this has been a traumatic event,” the doctor told her. “I recommend you head home and get some sleep. The nurse will also refer you to a mental health professional.” The doctor was gone before Tessa could open her mouth again.

She got bagels from her favorite bagel place and then returned home. In the lobby, she kept an eye out for Freddie, but he was nowhere to be seen. She hurried to the elevator. At her door, she paused. She unlocked it and peeked in. The table stood in front of the couch, precisely where it should be. Tessa went in and closed the door behind her. As she locked the deadbolt, the Table jumped from its spot and galloped over to her.

“No!” Tessa screamed, clutching the bagels. “What do you want?” The Table wiggled like a dog, a terrifying, demented dog.

“Do you want a bagel?” Tessa reached into the bag and ripped off a piece of one of the bagels. The cream cheese inside squished in her fist. She threw the piece of bagel at the Table. It bounced off the smooth surface, leaving a white smear of cream cheese on the blonde wood. The Table romped across the floor following the piece of bagel. Tessa walked into the room and sat on the couch. The Table ran around the bagel and then followed her to the couch. Tessa ignored it and opened her phone. While eating, she searched hallucinations, mental illness, and trauma. There was too much information and, at the same time, not enough. She went to a message board and created a new profile.

“My Coffee Table Has Come Alive,” she titled her first post. She explained the story in detail, and at the end, she asked for advice, theories, or ideas. She posted it. As she waited, she glanced at the Table. It was lying in the sun that streamed in through the balcony door, the cream cheese smear still on its surface. Tessa went to the kitchen. She wet a paper towel and returned. Kneeling next to it, she wiped the cream cheese off. It seemed to like the attention.

“Do you have to go potty?” she sighed. What would it even poop? She opened the balcony door, and the thing ambled out. The weather was warm, and a gentle breeze whispered in. Tessa fought the urge to lock it outside. She left the door open and went back to the couch. Her post already had several comments. The theories ranged from demons to alternate universes to possession by a ghost dog. Several comments had links to emergency mental health services. Tessa wrote down a few numbers.

The Table on the balcony moved from one edge to the other, seeming to look over the edges. Finally, it lay down in the sunshine. Tessa read more comments that it was a joke or a fake. One in particular caught her eye.

“I once had a pillow that saved me from a rapist,” someone commented. “It came alive and nearly strangled him to death.”

“That’s almost what happened here, too,” she wrote back. “I was in danger, and the table came alive and rescued me. But why? How?”

“No idea,” the person commented a bit later. “But it sounds like you should practice gratitude rather than looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

Tessa snorted and threw the phone on the couch. The Table sat up and twisting as if in a silent question.

“I refuse to take advice from anyone who uses that many cliches,” she told it. The Table laid back down in the afternoon sunshine. Tessa watched it, trying to see if the thing was breathing. She didn’t think so.

“Table! Come!” the Table waddled over to her. “Table, sit!” The Table stood on the floor in front of her.

“Are you a ghost puppy? Are you the ghost of a vengeful, protective guard puppy?” she asked in a silly voice. The Table stood unmoving. “Just go outside.” Tessa pointed at the balcony, then leaned back onto the couch and closed her eyes. She heard the thing wander away, but she kept her eyes resolutely shut.

When Tessa woke, the table was curled on the couch next to her, a wooden leg draped across her knee. Tessa shifted her knee away from it. She pulled a blanket over herself and closed her eyes again, drifting back into sleep.