Gelotophobia

All the windows were closed. That was the first thing Corrine noticed, partially because her friend loved natural sunlight. When Beth bought the place, she talked Corrine’s ear off about the floor-to-ceiling windows and skylights, all blinded today. The sun crept through tiny spaces between the vanes, the dark room covered in paper cuts of light. Beth crouched behind the door as if the sun might burn her, slamming it shut when Corrine was inside.

“Do you want some coffee?”

Corrine shook her head, gagging on the smell of the bitter drink brewed too strong. The iced latte she enjoyed that morning curdling in her belly.

“I’m sorry I called like I did.” Beth walked to the couch and sat down.

Corrine followed, navigating the kid’s toys, the family’s shoes, someone’s jacket, school backpacks, and a couple of gym bags all strewn on the floor. The sour smell from a pile of dishes on the coffee table mixed with the coffee and something else Corrine couldn’t quite place.

“Sorry for the mess,” Beth said.

“Oh, please. It’s just me. But where the hell is Rob and the kids? They should help out.”

“Rob’s pissed. Took the kids to see a movie.”

Corrine rolled her eyes. “Tell him to stuff that.”

Beth shook her head. “He’s right,” she said, her voice choked up. “What’s wrong with me?”

Corrine wrapped an arm around her friend. “Whatever is wrong, it’s not your fault. And no matter what, I’ll help you through it.”

“It’s so stupid.” Beth slapped her face. Hard.

“Hey! Stop that.” Corrine wrapped a firm hand around her friend’s, holding it down. “Start talking, Beth. You got me worried, sick.”

Beth struggled to speak through the tears. “I can’t. It’s hard to explain.”

“Well, you better try because I’m not leaving until I know my friend is alright.”

Beth picked up a coffee cup that Corrinne had assumed was another dirty dish. Corrinne cringed as Beth knocked back a big swig of the lukewarm brew. 

“It started with a dream. Wait.” Beth stared in silence for a moment then her eyes got wide. “Oh my God, no. It started before that. It started that night at The Mill.”

“The Mill? For Kat’s birthday?” Corrine tried to think of something that might have happened there. Her memory was a bit fuzzy from the drinks, but the night didn’t get that crazy. Corrine thought they had fun. 

“Yeah, Kat’s birthday. You told a joke.” 

Corrine picked up an accusatory tone in that last statement. “A joke?”

“Yeah, remember? The one about the priest and the lesbian.”

Corrine laughed. “Oh, yeah. She tells him–”

“No!” Beth screamed. “Don’t say it. That’s the joke. I mean…, I don’t remember the joke in the dream, but that has to be it, right?”

“Beth, you are scaring me. Please tell me what’s going on?”

“I didn’t think about it until now, but you told that joke, and remember Kat’s sister was in from… oh, I don’t know, Ohio or wherever.”

Corrine nodded. “She had a stick so far up her ass the whole night I was hoping a good laugh would help her shit it out.”

“That was the joke from the dream.” Beth’s gaze was far away. “It had to be.”

“Please, just start from the beginning.”

“At the bar that night, I laughed.”

Corrine sighed. “Yeah, it was a joke.”

“You know my laugh, though. When I can’t stop laughing.”

Corrine suppressed a chuckle at the thought. “It’s a unique laugh. I think it’s adorable.”

“It’s embarrassing. I saw Kat’s sister talking with, oh, I don’t remember, but I swore they were laughing at me.”

“You don’t know that,” Corrine scoffed. “Plus, screw her if she was. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I didn’t connect it until now. But that was last month, and I had the first dream last week.” Beth sat back and closed her eyes.

“Start from the beginning. Tell me the dream exactly as it happened.”

“I was at the new boutique shop by that ramen place, I can’t remember the name, but it opened up–”

“On the Beach Boutique, love it.”

“It must have been Saturday in the dream. It was packed with people when you called out of the blue to tell me this joke. I must not have heard it in the dream because I cracked up. Every head in the store whips around, everyone staring at me. I hung up whatever I had in my hand and ran out the door. As I stepped out on the sidewalk, this man and woman walked right by me, the guy sobbing. I only catch a snippet of what he said, but it’s crystal clear. He said, ‘...when he died, my alcoholism worsened.’

“I laughed and snorted inches from him. They gave me the dirtiest look. I tried to tell them I was sorry, but I ran. I ran down the boardwalk, dodging people, trying to control my laughter. At some point, I was so winded I had to sit on a bench, still doubled over laughing.”

Corrine was barely able to suppress her chuckles.

“I’m sitting there with my eyes shut, trying to get a hold of myself, when I hear a thud followed by a shriek. I opened my eyes, and this kid had fallen, busted his nose, blood all over the concrete. He is crying, and his mom is screaming for someone to call a doctor. I can’t stop laughing, so I jump up to run off. The dad grabs my arm and says, ‘My phone doesn’t work, and we need you to call an ambulance.’

“But I can’t stop laughing. I shake free and run, the guy screaming for me to call 911.”

Corrine couldn’t hold back and started to laugh.

Beth reached for a box of Kleenex, found it empty, and picked up a used tissue from the table to wipe her eyes.

“Beth! It was a dream. Why the hell would the guy’s phone not work? Plus, the little brat just busted his nose.”

“He could have had some problem where he couldn’t stop bleeding.”

“Oh my God,” Corrine said, rubbing her temples. “It was a dream. Look, I’m sorry for being flippant, but are you sure there’s nothing else going on? You would tell me, right?”

Beth nodded and wiped her eyes.

Corrine patted her back. “You need to make an appointment to talk to someone. I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks,” Beth said, her tears slowing down. “Maybe it’s stress. I’ve been working a little more.”

“A lot more,” Corrine corrected. “And your boss is an asshole. People don’t just develop phobias, Beth. We’re going to get to the bottom of it.”

Beth managed to smile, and Corrine felt like she won today’s battle. Leaving to go home, Corrine felt better, remembering the sense of dread when she first arrived, wondering what could be wrong with her friend.

A joke, she thought and shook her head. There has to be something more there. People don’t just develop–

The phone ringing over her car’s speakers interrupted. Mom, according to the caller ID.

Corrine hesitated momentarily when an unexpected chuckle escaped her lips. For some reason, her mind started filling in blanks. Beth never told Corrine how the dream continued after the kid broke his nose.

The image of the kid’s mom hovering over him, face covered in blood and snot, while the dad begged Beth to call an ambulance, her phone being the last working cell on Earth. In her mind, she saw Beth on the boardwalk, running past tragedy after tragedy, snorting out laughter.

Corrine imagined a guy, finally able to propose to his special lady, summoning all his courage to get down on one knee when Beth whips past, guffawing as she runs. He chickens out, afraid to ever ask again, and the woman, tired of waiting, runs off with his best friend.

She imagined a street vendor burning his hand on a hot plate, his customers rushing to use their phones, only to discover they don’t work. Filled with rage, knowing the woman running past them, howling with laughter, has the only working phone.

Corrine’s phone stopped ringing, rolling over to voicemail. She played the message her mom left.

“It’s mom. Call me ASAP. It’s about grandma.”

Oh my God, Corrine thought, getting herself under control. Once she felt like she had a handle on things, she went to return the call, only to be interrupted by the tiniest of giggles. But that turned into a chuckle, which spiraled into an all-out belly laugh. Even though she didn’t show it, she was overwhelmed by fear at her laughter.