Shelf-Made Man

Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

T obias was taking Amtrak home. He always found it uncomfortable to be crammed into an airplane seat for any amount of time, and the scenery along the train’s route between San Francisco and Portland was supposed to be beautiful. Unfortunately, it was already dark by the time he boarded in Emeryville. He slept poorly on the too-small train mattress, despite having sprung for a roomette, and was bleary-eyed by the time the sun rose somewhere near Klamath Falls, Oregon. When he finally stumbled into his little bungalow, it was almost dinnertime and all he wanted to do was eat, shower, and fall into bed.

He felt slightly guilty for putting off the huge pile of work that awaited him. But he’d planned to work through Christmas anyway, and that would make up for these two days away.

He’d already rooted through his freezer, unearthed one of the frozen meals he’d picked up during his last Trader Joe’s run, and started up the microwave when he remembered the box. It was right there in his tiny living room, perched on the love seat where he’d dropped his things when exhaustion and hunger distracted him.

Now, as the microwave whirred away, he wandered into the living room and picked up the box—old and worn, as if it had been tucked away in a closet for a long time. Its weight felt as if there might still be a pair of shoes inside, but that in itself was puzzling. Tobias supposed it could be shoes from one of Aunt Virginia’s previous husbands, but he couldn’t figure out why she would be gifting them.

Well, there was no point in mulling over the contents when he could simply take a look. The lid was attached with yellowed tape, which he carefully peeled away. When he opened the box he discovered a lumpy object wrapped in cloth. He lifted it out, set the box aside, and peered at the cloth. The cobalt fabric was thick and lustrous, embroidered in silver thread with stylized snowflakes. Silk brocade, he guessed. It had probably cost a fortune. But he also guessed that the focus was supposed to be on whatever it encased.

Very gingerly he unrolled the fabric and found… a doll.

Not a baby doll or a Barbie, however. Actually, maybe figurine was a better term, because this seemed like the sort of object intended for display rather than for a child to play with. It was about a foot tall, with jointed shoulders, elbows, hips, and knees, which had allowed it to fit in the box. The face, hair, and body were made of finely painted porcelain, and its clothing and hat were made of velvet and lace.

It was, in fact, a Christmas elf, with a peaked cap, red tunic, and green-and-white striped stockings. It had yellow hair and blue eyes, and Tobias thought its smile was more sweet than mischievous.

The elf was adorable, although Tobias was disappointed that there was some damage to one leg: the fabric torn and the porcelain underneath cracked.

Well, it would still be nice as a holiday decoration. Tobias set it on the bookshelf in front of his collection of old sci-fi paperbacks, where it looked… festive, he supposed. He hadn’t bothered with any other holiday décor.

When he checked the box, he saw that it also contained a folded sheet of paper, thick but yellowed and somewhat brittle. The inside contained a note written in spidery, old-fashioned cursive, which Tobias had a little trouble deciphering.

I have protected him for now, but unfortunately I am unable to restore him to his proper state. Please care for him well.

—Olve Lange

Tobias was fairly certain that had been the name of Aunt Virginia’s second husband, the wizard. The elf must have belonged to him. Tobias didn’t know why Aunt Virginia had decided to give it to him, but the elf must have been treasured, so he appreciated her thoughtfulness.

“Thanks, Aunt Virginia,” he said aloud. He’d write her a letter, perhaps tomorrow, after he’d tackled some of the work backlog.

Then he returned to the kitchen, where the microwave beeped impatiently.

Tobias woke up early the next day—Friday—yawned through a cup of coffee and slice of toast, and then tackled his email inbox. One good thing about his data engineer job was that he could do a lot of work from home. And on a day like today, when he had no meetings, he could do it in flannel pajamas and a ratty but comfy sweatshirt he’d owned since college. The flip side of that, however, was that he didn’t have contact with many people outside of formal business interactions. Sure, there was a lot of electronic discussion with stakeholders and clients, and endless Zooms, and even times when he met up with people in person. But during those times, the conversation centered pretty exclusively on work. There was none of the chitchat that might lead to making friends.

He'd had a hard enough time making social connections as a kid, but it turned out to be even more difficult in adulthood. His hobbies—reading, Legos, wandering in forests—tended to be solitary. His neighbors were pleasant but he didn’t seem to have much in common with them aside from living on the same block. Bars and clubs made him feel so awkward and nervous that he literally broke out in hives. His only family was Aunt Virginia, and she’d been a recluse for decades.

So he worked. Luckily, he loved his job. All those predictable equations and cozy lines of code, and when he solved a problem, when he made it easier for a client to collect and analyze data, that was incredibly satisfying.

Mostly.

But now that Christmas was almost upon him and work was pretty much his only agenda item? That was a little disheartening.

On Friday he kept himself chained to the computer until nearly dinnertime, at which point he went for a long run. If you could call it that; he’d briefly dated a guy who referred to Tobias’s exercise attempts as plodding . Thanks to long legs, Tobias could cover a lot of ground, but he wasn’t speedy about it. Today was damp, and he sloshed through puddles and dealt with a runny nose and avoided getting run over by impatient drivers eager to get home for the weekend. He took a different route every time he went out, rarely paying conscious attention to his twists and turns. He’d been blessed with an excellent sense of direction and had no trouble finding his way home. Today when he returned to his bungalow, he took a hot shower and nuked Korean food from Trader Joe’s.

He considered doing more work after dinner but vetoed the idea, instead penning a thank-you note to Aunt Virginia. Afterward he watched Midsomer Murders while working on the ridiculously expensive Star Wars Lego kit he’d bought himself as a Christmas gift. Interspersed with the construction, he nibbled on the cannabis-infused snickerdoodle he’d purchased before visiting Aunt Virginia. He rarely indulged in mind-altering substances, but now and then a little THC helped him relax. Combining it with Lego probably wasn’t a good idea, however; his Millennium Falcon was now looking decidedly unspaceworthy.

Finally he decided to call it a night. As he shuffled past the bookshelf, he paused to stare at the elf, whose painted eyes had been watching him all night. “You’re pretty quiet, but you’re the best company I’ve had in ages,” Tobias informed it blearily. “Really, you’re the only company I’ve had in ages.”

The elf looked back at him, eyes wide, smile maybe a touch wistful.

Tobias gently stroked the place where the elf was damaged, wondering whether he could get it repaired somewhere in town. After the holidays, maybe. “I wish we really could talk to each other,” he said with a sigh. “I wish you were real.”

A spell of dizziness hit him hard, and the room seemed to tilt and shift. He clutched his head. “Too much snickerdoodle.”

And he staggered off to bed.

One benefit of cannabis over alcohol was that he didn’t wake up hungover. In fact, on Saturday morning he felt good enough that he went for a long run, followed by a soothing shower, and then out again for coffee and brunch at a nearby café. He ate there a couple of times a month and knew the waitstaff fairly well. He’d even gone on a few dates with one of them the previous year. He and Jayden had mutually agreed that the chemistry wasn’t right for romance, and they might have become friends if Jayden hadn’t gotten accepted to grad school in Boston. A friendship over before it had truly begun.

On a happier note, the café had amazing french toast.

It was gray today but not raining, and Tobias took his time strolling home. He admired the sculptural shapes of trees against the leaden sky, the front yard greenery persisting despite the season, and the architectural details on the century-old houses. He mulled over the idea of a vacation in February, when work tended to be a bit slow and the winter felt endless. It had been a few years since he’d taken more than a couple of days off, and aside from the recent visit to Aunt Virginia, he’d rarely gone farther than the eighty miles it took to reach the coast. As he neared his house, he tried to picture himself sitting on a beach chair, book in his lap and umbrella drink close at hand, the salty breeze rustling his hair. Well, maybe not. That wasn’t exactly his style. But he could go hiking somewhere that had warm winters .

He entered the house through the side door because it led into a small mudroom where he could hang his coat and take off his soggy sneakers and socks. He slipped on a pair of dry socks, then went directly into the kitchen and considered whether he wanted a cup of tea.

Something crashed in the living room.

Tobias dashed through the dining room toward the sound, his stockinged feet almost sliding out from underneath him on the wood floor. He skidded like a cartoon character when he took the corner.

“Ahhh!”

It was unclear who screamed louder: Tobias or the stranger huddled on the floor.

But Tobias moved first, striding forward and trying to look as big as possible, as if he were confronting a grizzly bear instead of a terrified man wearing a tunic and striped stockings. Tobias was aware that his height caused him to tower over others. And he wasn’t exactly lean, because he liked carbs even more than running. He’d been informed that he had Resting Bitch Face and tended to look intimidating, which certainly didn’t help in his quest for new friends. Of course, now he wasn’t resting and his expression was probably a combination of anger and shock, but the principle remained.

“Who are you?” Tobias roared. He didn’t have anything near at hand to use as a weapon, but it appeared as if the intruder was also unarmed .

The man curled into a fetal ball, arms over his face, and said, “No, please no.”

That brought Tobias to a sudden halt, as did his realization that the man was injured. Bright blood stained his leg and was forming a small puddle on the floor. A wave of dizziness hit Tobias at the sight of it, and he growled at himself to focus on the real emergency instead of giving in to a stupid phobia.

Had the man cut himself breaking in? Tobias glanced around, but as far as he could tell the windows were intact and the front door was closed and chained. There were no signs of intrusion at all, except for the intruder himself.

It occurred to Tobias that a 911 call was in order. But he’d left his phone in the kitchen and wasn’t inclined to let the bleeding stranger out of his sight. He couldn’t just stand there like a dumb statue either, of course. So, feigning confidence and control, he stomped closer. “Who are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing here?”

The man simply cowered.

After another moment of hesitation—and a lurch in his stomach due to the blood—Tobias knelt beside him. “Hey,” he said, and touched the man’s shoulder.

“No!” The man scrambled away and tried to get to his feet but cried out and collapsed again. “Please don’t,” he rasped when Tobias carefully approached.

While Tobias was still experiencing a maelstrom of emotions, and while the blood was still mighty unsettling, his concern for the terrified stranger was now foremost. As far as Tobias could tell, he had no weapon and certainly didn’t look as if he could physically overpower Tobias. Not only was he injured, but he was also shorter than Tobias and much more slight. Delicate was the descriptor that came to mind.

Tobias crept closer but this time didn’t try to touch. He spoke in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “I won’t hurt you. But your leg…. Let me call an ambulance for you. Or take you to the hospital.”

“Please. Don’t give me to snorkel. Just… just kill me.”

Snorkel? What the hell did that mean? He had an accent—something Scandinavian, Tobias guessed—so maybe Tobias had misunderstood. He’d definitely understood the killing part, however, and he shook his head. The poor man must either be really wasted or having a mental health crisis.

Either way, Tobias was even more hesitant to call the cops. The local police weren’t known for their sensitive handling of drug abusers or the mentally ill.

“You’re going to be okay,” Tobias said. “But you’ve hurt your leg. Can I help you?”

The man blinked at him a few times, glanced at his leg, and then shook his head miserably. “Leave me be, troll.” And then he collapsed, apparently unconscious.

It was only then that Tobias noticed what the man was wearing.