We Were All Out of Band-Aids

“Don’t get carried away now,” Ray called to Maya as she added another item to the cart from her phone. “60% off doesn’t mean free, hon.”

Maya Barkovitch, who was curled up on the couch in sweatpants and a t-shirt with her alma mater printed on the front, let out a chuckle.

“I won’t,” she said to her husband, her eyes locked on the screen, “but it might as well be free when it’s a Hearthstone and Slab sale. Do you know how impossible it is to get anything under $100? This is the place to get the most on-trend, old money, ‘I-have-a-winter-home-in-Aspen’ type of furniture and decor that I want to vibe with our little…”

She took her eyes off her phone to look around their 200-square-foot apartment. “...crib.”

She furrowed her brows and muttered under her breath, “I’ve slept in cribs bigger than this place.”

Ray, who was organizing their junk drawer in the kitchen, paused and eyed the back of his new wife’s head. “You’ve never even been to Aspen, and I thought you said you’d stop talking trash about our home.”

With a sigh, Maya turned to Ray. “I’m not trash-talking, hon. I’m just acknowledging the fact that is as plain as day.”

“Well, plain as it may be, this shoebox is ours. Our little Eden above the laundromat.

“It sure is,” Maya sighed again, glancing up from the collection of lampshades on her phone. She faced the sorry excuse for a living room they had set up, which at the moment was just a faux leather loveseat, a TV on the floor, and an unpacked cardboard box that stored all of Ray’s comic books as a coffee table.

The ring on her finger sparkled under the mandarin-colored light bulbs that hung low like depressed carrots. The peeled wallpaper with faded gold stripes curled up the way pencil shavings wind back into themselves, hiding the roaches and rats that were cozied and nestled behind the wooden beams holding their skeletal abode together. Below them, the sounds of jingling coins in pockets meshed with the symphony of spin cycles from the washing machines. The smell of detergent and fabric softener wafted up from the vents, masking everything in their claustrophobic love nest with an invisible blanket of linen and daisies.

Maya loved Ray Barkovitch, enough to marry into his crazy, controlling family. Loved him enough to transition out of her sales rep job to let him take care of her on his freelance illustrator income. Loved him enough to marry the debts he was deep into. Loved him enough to spend their first year of marriage accepting the truth of their living situation.

I don’t need anything but you, she had told him after his proposal, and actually believed the words as they burst forth from her mouth, carrying tones of love and promise. She wished she could go back and add You know, I’d also like to live in a place where I can walk barefoot without fear of stepping into a crusty old patch of dog pee. Her warm toes had yet to feel the sandpapery carpet that was stapled into every inch and corner of their apartment.

She didn’t know she’d have to sacrifice so much for the sake of domestic bliss. 

“Well, damn,” she heard Ray curse under his breath.

Maya turned to him again. “What’s up?” 

“I’m fixing up the junk drawer and that mosquito bite under my elbow started acting up again. It’s killing me how much worse it feels the more I scratch. I checked inside our first aid kit for some calamine lotion and we’re completely out. We’re also missing a lot of items we may need in case of an emergency, and for some reason, we have fruit rollups where the Band-Aids should be.”

“You want me to go grab some stuff to refill it?”

“Nah, I can go. I’ve gotta stop by the bank anyway and maybe pick up some groceries while I’m out.”

Maya’s ears perked. “‘Pick up some groceries’? That’s literally the sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

Ray slammed the drawer shut and grabbed an icepack from the freezer to apply to his itch. Walking to where Maya sat, he stood behind her and leaned down, kissing her lips as she leaned her head backward to receive it and give one back to him. 

“I’ll be back. Please, go easy with the lampshades.” 

---

Ray had been gone for 10 minutes, and it was at that time as Maya was confirming her order on the Hearthstone and Slab app that an envelope came sliding in from their door’s mail slot. The white rectangle floated onto the musty carpet, making itself known to her among the dust bunnies and faded stains. Confused at first, she uncrossed her legs on the couch and walked to where it lay, bending down to turn it over to see who it was addressed to.

To Current Resident it read across the front. The intricate lettering that was printed on it glinted gold and shimmered with the light when she moved the envelope. There was no return address and no stamp in the upper right corner.

“Is this from the internet company?” she asked herself, turning the envelope over in her hand. “Maybe the former tenant forgot to send an address update when they moved out.”

Maya opened the front door and peered into the hallway. It was quiet and empty; the only sounds heard came from the machines downstairs, emitting pangs of sloshing, bubbly suds from the water meeting clothes.

“It's probably nothing, and I’m the current resident of this cesspit. It says so on the lease.”

Grabbing a pair of scissors from the junk drawer, she sliced through the top of the envelope, opening it wide with her thumb. Pinching the top of the letter folded inside with the tips of her fingers, she slowly withdrew the thick paper. She let the empty envelope fall at her feet as she unfolded the letter.

It was blank. Blank? she thought. Who’d want to mail an envelope here just to have it be blank?

“Maybe someone downstairs got bored and tried to play a joke or something,” she said, holding it up toward the dangling bulbs to see if anything was shown through the paper. Nothing.

Weird. 

Placing the blank sheet on the small counter space they had in their kitchen, she returned to plop herself back on the couch, intent on finalizing her order. Her screen was interrupted by a notification showing Ray was calling her.

Pressing the speaker button, she held the phone under her chin. “Hi, honey! Good news, I ditched the lamp shades and instead found some cute wall sconces we can place above our headboard. This will free up some space to place a mini end table so that–”

“How much is this gonna cost, Maya?” Ray sounded dismal.

“Ray,” Maya said softly, “it’s not a lot, but it’s what we need. Come on, let’s treat ourselves. I promise I won’t ask for anything else…are you okay? You sound a little off.”

“My check bounced.”

Maya stood up. “What?”

“Yeah, my check from that asshat who commissioned me to do half of that Phil Overhill comic had insufficient funds. I just found out the guy has gone AWOL. Apparently, he’s in deep sludge with the mafia and cleaned out his account before disappearing. No one’s seen him since Tuesday. I’m such an idiot. I should have asked for an advance.”

“Ray,” she said again, hoping her voice soothed his worries and self-imposed admonishment. “You’re not an idiot, hon. Who could have predicted something like this would happen? Things are gonna be okay, we’re gonna be okay.”

Ray sighed and the air from his mouth sizzled from the phone’s speaker. “I know. But that means…”

“Means what?”

“It means the 300 bucks we have left in our savings should be used for food and necessities, not curtains or sconces or end tables. Those aren’t things we need, hon, those are things we want–what you want. That has to be put to the side for now. I’m sorry.”

Maya clenched her jaw. So ardently did she want to scream back to him Everything I want has been put to the side since I married you! When will I. Get. What. I. Want?!

“Sure, hon,” she lied through her teeth. “I get it. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart. We’ll try again soon, and I promise you’ll get the home of your dreams with everything you deserve. I promise to give that to you.”

Sure you will. Maya nodded, aware of the fact that he couldn’t see her but still felt compelled to do something to excuse the silence that overwhelmed her.

“Also, I didn’t take a look at what we’re missing from the fridge. Can you make up a list of what we need? I’m at the bank, but once I get your text I’ll drive to the supermarket.”

“Over and out.” Maya hung up, disappointed and frustrated and let down by her husband. The husband who was very good at hyping up promises but had yet to follow through with them, any of them. Tightening her lips, she went back to the Hearthstone and Slab app and deleted her cart.

She threw her phone to the side of her, watching it bounce on the cushion as she got up to open the fridge. The humph of the door opening and the sharp breeze of cold air swooping over her flushed cheeks kept her from thinking any more negative thoughts about Ray. My Ray of sunshine is not always sunny.

Once she gathered a mental inventory of what was needed, she went to the junk drawer and rummaged around for a pencil to make a list. The blank letter was still on the counter, opened wide and empty like a gaping mouth. It was the only thing available to write on.

“Milk, eggs, onions, yogurt, creamer…” she listed aloud, placing her elbows and leaning onto the counter as she put the tip of the pencil to the top of the blank sheet. “Ham, lettuce, baby carrots...” As she scribbled down a list she heard someone put on “Sweet Caroline” at the highest possible volume on their phone downstairs. She hated living above so much busyness. 

“Shut up!” she yelled as she stomped the floor with her foot, its intensity was muffled by the socks she wore. “Shut up, shut up!” She ran to the door and slammed it to the “ba, ba, ba’s”. 

“Bastards,” she muttered under her breath.

As she spun around to return to her list, she froze when her eyes saw a pile of groceries emerge and appear from nothing and suddenly materialize on the counter. As if by magic.

With her eyes opened wide in alert and her breath held in her lungs, Maya whispered, “What the hell.” 

She shuffled closer to inspect it, keeping her distance but craning her neck forward to make out what was in the pile.

“Milk, eggs, onions, yogurt, creamer…” she stopped. “Oh my God.”

She glanced at the list and saw that everything she had written had appeared on the counter. At the sound of her gasp and realization of what happened, the words she had scribbled on the blank sheet started to fade, until every curve and line of her handwriting vanished into nothing again.

Maya gulped. Is this for real? 

She waited a few minutes to process everything before reaching over to touch the groceries. “Everything’s here,” she said with amazement, running her fingers over the gallon of milk and touching the smoothness of the eggs. “Everything’s real.”

Slowly, her eyes went back to the blank sheet. “What else can you do, mystery mail?” She grabbed the pencil. “What else can I do?”

Maya pushed the groceries to the side and started writing.

• Hearthstone and Slab wall sconces, the ones with the engraved flowers
• Cream-colored lampshades - 38 cm width
• Peace and QUIET!!!!

She underlined the last part three times. Looking up and around, she waited. She didn’t know what she needed to wait for but whatever it was, she hoped it would come soon. And it did, she knew it the moment she stopped hearing the whirring cycles of the machines downstairs, knew it the moment she could no longer hear Neil Diamond’s singing voice.

Not wanting to get her hopes up without evidence, she rushed to the door, ran down the stairs, and stepped outside. She turned left to the laundromat’s entrance, pressed her face to the windows and saw…nothing. The lights were off, and to her amazement, the entire place was empty. An empty room with empty sounds.

With a grin, she rushed back into her building, flew up the stairs, and almost reeled over from the shock of seeing everything she had written on the sheet appear in their home.

“I did that,” she said incredulously, letting out a laugh. “I got what I wanted.”

---

It took 10 minutes after Ray had left for this miracle to stumble upon her, and it took another 10 minutes afterward to change everything that had, seemingly, gone wrong in her life.

Scribbling away to her heart’s content, she suddenly owned new clothes, shoes, furniture, and all the tech gear she and Ray had always wanted. For good measure, she added a couple of billion dollars into their bank account.

Everything they desired had so quickly belonged to them that she felt she was going mad with happiness. I get what I want, I get what I want, I finally get what I want. She didn’t stop until there was no room left in the apartment to have anything else appear.

2,000 square feet, she wrote as the last few items she had jotted down had faded and disappeared into the paper. Before she could place the pencil back on the counter, it fell to the floor, the new floor Maya had made appear with the help of the mystery mail. She bent down to pick it up, and in the second it took for her to get back to a standing position, their apartment had stretched its walls and bones to create a large space that no longer looked or felt like a shoebox.

“Hell yeah!” Maya clapped, ecstatic with the power she felt surging through her, electrifying all the molecules holding her together. “What’s next?”

Maya had unknowingly pressed the tip of the pencil too hard against a finger on her left hand, that it pierced the flesh and created a slit that tore open, oozing trickling lines of blood that ran down the length of her finger.

“Damn!” she cried, putting her finger in her mouth to suck the wound clean. “Ow.”

She ran to her now modern and much larger kitchen and darted her eyes at the various drawers that were unfamiliar to her. “First aid kit. I need the first aid kit.” She ran to each one and opened them, only to find them empty.

“Where’s the freaking junk drawer?!”

By the time she found it, the blood had already made its way down her wrist and into the crevice of her elbow. Spotting the first aid kit, she quickly grabbed it and opened it, letting out a frustrated wail when the only thing her hands held were unfurled fruit rollups that seemed to mock her state of alarm.

“Damn!” she screamed again, slamming the drawer shut with her hip and banging the first aid kit against the marble countertop hard in anger. Never in her adult life had she felt more like wanting to throw a tantrum than that moment. 

In the heat of her vexation, Maya had forgotten the blood that still oozed out from the cut throbbing with pain on the tip of her finger. A small drop flew from her outburst with the kit and landed in the middle of the blank page. The page that awaited what Maya would ask of it. The page that granted what it was told to give.

“Oh no,” Maya whimpered, connecting the dots. She quickly looked around the kitchen in a panic. Where are the napkins?!

Not finding any and needing to act fast, she slid the bloodied paper toward her and used the hem of her t-shirt to sop up the stain. 

“Please, please,” Maya whispered, “please.” 

But it was too late. In the same way that all the wonderful things she desired came to fruition in the blink of an eye, this same request was granted, unwillingly, to Maya Barkovitch.

Maya let out a bloodcurdling scream as she felt a pain so intense, so ravaging, that it numbed every other sensation in her body. Tears had rapidly welled up in her eyes, and in the distortion of the water that flooded her vision, she saw the finger she had cut slowly have the flesh around it tear completely open, like an ear of corn, exposing the bone and blood that spilled onto her socks and floor underneath her. 

Her skin was tearing itself apart. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God!” she shrieked, falling to the floor and convulsing her body in shapes and angles that no human could possibly make to shake the pain away. The burning she felt on her finger soon spread down the length of her arm and up her shoulder. Her skin peeled away, the sound of it reminding her of how a stalk of celery is stripped, to nothing but bones and cartilage.

As she screamed and cried and reddened her face from enduring the torture of what was granted to her, she slowly felt herself fading away. Fading away like the drop of blood on the blank letter, fading away like the rest of the requests she had made, fading away like the Band-Aids that should have been there instead of the fruit rollups.

Those damn fruit rollups.