Carl

Carl looked in the mirror nervously, running the comb through his gray beard. He couldn't remember ever feeling this nervous. His stomach was in knots, and for a brief moment, he thought he was going to lose his dinner. He closed his eyes tightly, took a slow, deep breath in through his nose, and let it out carefully through pursed lips. He opened his eyes and examined his image in the mirror once again.

He didn't know what she saw in him. He was much older than her. Helen was beautiful. She could have had any man she wanted. She was the belle of Key West, and still she had chosen him. He knew it was destined, but it still came as a surprise after so many years of waiting.

As a child, a dead aunt had come to him in dreams and had shown him the face of his one true love. He had all but given up on ever finding the mysterious beauty, when at 50 years old, the woman in his dream literally walked into his life. Finally finding her, after so many years, was a miracle.

He studied the image in front of him. He was thin, perhaps too thin. His knees were knobby, he decided, and thought he probably ought to not wear shorts anymore. He couldn't help being thin. It ran in his family, plus he spent a lot of time working and forgetting to eat. Helen would make sure he took better care of himself. He was sure she'd be the perfect wife.

His hair, what was left of it, was white, with the occasional scraggle of gray at the crown. He licked his fingers, and smoothed down the unruly strands. He debated a comb-over, but there wasn't enough hair to pull it off. No use trying to hide the obvious, he decided. She knew how old he was. He just had to be himself.

His round glasses sat high on his prominent nose, but he thought it made him look distinguished. He was practically a physician, after all, and appearances were important. He felt the glasses gave him an aura of authenticity and authority. He took the glasses off, polished the lenses on his shirttail, then replaced them. Yes. He looked refined, cultured with his specs.

Carl glanced at the clock on the mantle. He needed to hurry. They had waited so long for this night, their wedding night, and he didn't want to disappoint his bride. Helen deserved the best. She was in the bedroom, waiting for him, and he didn't want to keep her waiting any longer than necessary.

Carl tucked his shirt into the waist of his slacks, expertly tied his bow tie, and donned his best suit jacket. He was almost ready.

Again, he took a slow, measured breath. More than anything he wanted to please Helen. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. This was their wedding night, after all, and she was inexperienced. So pure. Untouched. He hoped she wouldn't be frightened. He hoped it would be a memorable night.

Carl walked to the bedroom door and grasped the doorknob.

**********

Elena Milagro de Hoyos hadn't been feeling herself for quite a while. She didn't know if it was the Florida heat or the after-effects from her miscarriage that was making her so tired all the time. She didn't really care. After losing her baby, her good-for-nothing husband had left her in Key West, and moved on to Miami. Well, Miami could have him. He had brought shame to her and her family. She could do so much better than him, and the tropical sultriness of the Keys waited for her.

Elena, "Helen", brushed back her obsidian black hair and coughed. She had been coughing a lot lately, and it worried her a little. It worried her mother even more. Perhaps she would see the doctor, after all, she thought. The best way she could get even with that cur, Luis, was to prove that she didn't need him around. She'd stop moping and start taking better care of herself. She was only 20, after all, and all of Key West was there for the taking.

It was a beautiful day in April; not too hot, but showing the promise of summer to come. Helen's hacking was troubling, and her mother had noticed that she was bringing up bright red blood when she coughed. Helen was pale, as well, too pale.

Had they been back home in Cuba, Aurora would have taken her daughter to see the Santero. He'd probably send her to pick special herbs, and even tell her where she could find them. She'd probably be instructed to kill a white chicken and hang it by the back door of their house. Usually, animal sacrifices were eaten by the family and the Santero, but not for illness. Whatever ailed Elena would pass into the dead bird, and it would make the meat unsafe to eat. There would be other rituals in which they shared a feast with the orishas, giving thanks for a speedy recovery, but not yet. Not until the sickness was gone. In the meantime, the orishas would be given gifts of candy and rum, in the hopes of healing.

This was usually enough to cure most illnesses, and if it wasn't, the Santero would call on the babalawo. Seldom was there an illness they couldn't cure, and this sickness plaguing her daughter would be no different. It was obvious her heart was sick from losing her husband and her baby. Helen was wasting away with a spiritual illness. Her body was trying to fight it, making her sweat during the night, as good and evil battled within her. Aurora watched in the darkness as the battle raged, unable to sleep with worry.

Aurora wished they were back in Cuba. She sensed the Santero would be needed, but they were here, in Florida, and they did as others around them did. So, instead of combing empty lots for special herbs or instructing Pancho to kill a hen, she made her way to the Marine Hospital, Helen in tow.

**********

Key West is closer to Cuba than it is to the Florida mainland, and many of the old buildings reflect the Spanish influence. Homes were built of coral rocks, sturdy and cool; tobacco was imported and became an important part of the economy.

The ocean breeze keeps the southernmost part of Florida free of the humidity so many people associate with the Miami and Fort Lauderdale regions, and the temperature is more tolerable. Coconut palms and banyan trees dot the landscape, and manatees and saltwater crocodiles dot the canals and docks. The ocean, crystal clear, adds beauty and charm to the area.

There used to be a US Naval base in Key West, situated strategically on the Gulf of Mexico, about 90 miles from Havana. Many of the Keys inhabitants either worked at or peripherally for the base.

The land boom of the 1920s forever changed the landscape of Florida. People from all walks of life discovered the charms the Keys had to offer, and land was being bought and developed at a quick pace.

Helen's father worked in one of the major industries of the island; Key West cigars, a direct influence from Cuba, using only the finest imported tobacco from the Caribbean island.

The Hoyos family had emigrated from Cuba before Helen was born. She was part of that first generation born in America. The Keys were the perfect transition from the Caribbean to the mainland.

Marine Hospital was an old building, having been erected nearly 100 years before. Built during the Civil War, the three-story hospital had seen a lot of wounded. She stood strong through World War I, the Spanish-American war; epidemics of yellow fever, break bone fever, and the influenza pandemic of the early 1900s; and even weathered one of the biggest hurricanes to hit the area - the Havana Hurricane of 1846.

It was 1930, and Hitler had yet to invade Poland, but the Great Depression was just beginning, and soon the hospital would be hard-pressed to serve all those in need. Disease, starvation, and depression would keep them busy for years to come.

**********

Aurora and Helen made their way up the long flight of stairs leading to the entrance of Marine Hospital. Helen was winded by the time they had reached the top, and Aurora felt a twinge of fear as she watched her daughter struggle for breath. Soon the uncontrollable coughing would begin, Aurora knew, and with that the blood. Aurora took Helen by the arm and led her inside.

The waiting room was painted a drab color that could have been beige, or green, or even white. It was hard to tell after so many years. Aurora and Helen sat, waiting patiently in the hard, wooden chairs, listening to the cries of croupy babies, the moans of those injured, and the coughing. Always the coughing. After a long while, Helen's name was called, and they were taken back to see the doctor.

The doctor took his time with Elena, listening carefully to her lungs and getting a full history of her symptoms. He heard the coughing for himself, and even saw the drop of blood on the stark white handkerchief Elena held to her lips. The doctor learned of the night sweats, and explained to Aurora that this was a symptom of Elena's disease, not a battle of good versus evil. He confessed that he was pretty confident in a diagnosis, but to be sure, he ordered a series of chest x-rays. He would be back, he explained, after the x-rays were ready for viewing.

Aurora's head was spinning. Consumption, the doctor had said. He had also said there was no cure. Helen would continue to cough and waste away until there was nothing left. They didn't even know what had caused it. They said it might be hereditary, that her whole family could succumb to it.

There had been a tuberculosis scare years ago, but it was finally going away. It wasn't nearly as problematic as it had been just 10 or 15 years ago, but here was this doctor - who probably didn't know the difference between Santeria and Brujeria, telling her that her beautiful daughter must go home and die. They wouldn't even care for her in the hospital! Was it too late to see the babalawo? Were they being punished for not seeking a consulta in the first place?

There was a commotion outside the room, and the door flew open. A thin, white-haired man entered the room and knelt beside Helen. Gently, he took her hands in his and looked deep into her eyes. Never moving his gaze away from Helen, he said to Aurora, "I will heal her."

**********

It was a normal day for Carl Tanzler. As usual, he was at work in the radiology department, dressed in a lead apron, taking x-rays of the day's casualties, just like he always did. His schedule, and day-to day-life, rarely varied. He was checking the chart as the next patient came in, shyly holding her hospital gown tight around her thin body. Carl looked up and gaped. He could hardly believe it! It was her! He couldn't move. Here, standing before him, was the woman he had seen in visions since he was a boy in Dresden. This vision before him, dressed in a hospital gown, had the same raven-dark hair, the same full, ripe lips, the same innocence in her eyes as the woman promised to him in his dreams.

As a young man in Germany, Carl had stopped looking for his dream woman, telling himself he had to be reasonable, had to be a man. He had married late in life, having waited vainly for his true love. His wife and daughters immigrated with him to Cuba, then eventually to Florida, but something had told him that he needed to sever his ties with that life - that shallow imitation of fulfillment - and start anew. He left his family in Zephyrhills, Florida, and moved to the Keys, taking the job as a radiology technician and changing his name from Carl Tanzler, to Count Carl von Cosel. It made no sense to him at the time, this abrupt change in his life, but now, standing in front of his angel, all his questions had been answered.

Carl took Helen's chest x-ray, taking his time to make this encounter last as long as possible. He glanced at the x-ray once it had been developed, and even to his untrained eyes, he could see tuberculosis evident on the film. He looked carefully and noticed the consolidations and air-filled cavities typical of advanced tuberculosis. He wasn't a doctor, but he had done enough x-rays to recognize what he was seeing.

His heart, just moments ago filled with light and bubbles of excitement, plummeted to his stomach. He wanted to vomit. How could he find her and lose her all in one day? It wasn't fair.

He personally took the x-ray to the doctor and waited in the hall for the family to leave the exam room. As he stood there, he made a decision. In a way, he had been preparing for this his entire life. His aunt had come to him time and again in his dreams to show him his destiny, and this woman was it. It was fate. He had to act fast, before he lost his chance.

When the doctor exited the room, Carl pounced. He begged to be allowed to treat this patient. He had ideas on how to cure her, and if anybody could do it, he knew it would be him. That was his purpose in life! It didn't matter that he wasn't a physician. He knew he could save her. The doctor, tired of arguing with the technician, and knowing he probably wouldn't make things any worse, finally agreed. Carl ran into the exam room and promised a cure.

In the days and weeks that followed, Helen's home would become her hospital room. Carl, armed with herbs (of which Aurora approved), tinctures, medicines, medical equipment, and even an x-ray machine, soon started his treatments.

It was pleasant for him, the time he devoted to finding a cure. He got to spend every day with the love of his life, the woman promised to him so many years before. He didn't rush her. He didn't want to scare her away in the middle of treatment, but sometimes he couldn't help himself. He lavished his love with jewelry and other gifts, and occasionally he'd swear fealty to her, professing his love and devotion. She was a shy girl, most likely innocent of the ways of men and marriage, so he was not upset when she didn't announce love for him in return. She was young still, and she was sick, after all. It had been a long year of treatment. The wedding would come later, when she was well.

**********

Carl slowly turned the doorknob and stepped into the bedroom. He gently closed the door behind him and turned to take in the beautiful sight before him. Helen, his beloved Helen, was wearing a white gown that reached her ankles. It was modest, high collared, with buttons all the way up the back. He had picked it out himself, and he was pleased to see her wearing it. She looked as radiant as he had imagined she would, her cheeks bright with color, her lips an impossible red, her hair strikingly blue-black in contrast to the white gown. She looked like Rose Red, a fairy tale, lying on his own bed! How had he gotten so lucky?

It had been 3 years since he had first professed his love to her. Three years of getting to know each other during the treatments he had prescribed for her, talking about the future, making plans, and in those 3 years, despite her illness, her beauty had not faded. She was still the vision of an angel, and she belonged to him at long last.

Carefully, he approached the bed and sat on the edge. He just wanted to look at her a bit longer, savor the moment. Their first time together would never happen again, and he wanted it to be special. He was 30 years older than her and experienced, and she was so young and innocent. He knew he'd have to be patient.

He took his time, trying not to rush, not to scare her. She was a little stiff at first, no doubt unsure of what was expected of her. Perhaps her mother never explained the roles of husband and wife to her daughter. He vowed to make their wedding night one to remember, though. At least he would try.

Once their marriage had been consummated, he sat up and adjusted both their clothing. He promised the next time would be different. He would be her teacher.

He looked earnestly into her eyes. Noticing a smear of lipstick, he tenderly wiped it with his thumb, and rubbed it on his pants. He couldn't tell from her face what she was thinking, and he was afraid to ask.

He adjusted her on the bed, helping her to sit up and lean back on the pillows. He fanned her black hair across the pillow, framing her pale face. Her wig had slipped down a bit during their love-making, and he pulled it back off her forehead. He noticed that her right cheek was a little crooked, a little flattened, perhaps. He melted some wax on the stove and brought it in to repair the damage. Carefully, he massaged her cheek back into position and coated it with wax. The wax hardened quickly, and he added several layers. He wanted her to be perfect.

He kissed her now warm cheek and told her to get some rest. Their wedding night was for love, but the morning would soon come, and they had lots of work to do. When the sun rose, they would begin the new treatments he had planned for her. He was determined that no matter what it took, he would bring his beloved Helen back to life.

He had built the Tesla coil himself. He just knew it would work.

**********

Carl Tanzler was a man obsessed. More than anything, he wanted Elena for his wife, and he tried everything he could think of to keep her alive. Unfortunately, she did not survive the tuberculosis that ravaged her lungs. She suffered a year of his makeshift treatments and experimentations, never reciprocating the love he lavished on her along the way. She died at home with her family gathered around her, another statistic, another number in the tuberculosis death toll.

When Carl lost his battle with the terrible disease that had taken so many lives, and would eventually take most of Helen's family, as well, he blamed himself. He offered to pay for her funeral and burial expenses, and the family accepted.

Carl had a lavish mausoleum built for his beloved angel, along with a secret duplicate key for himself. He went to the cemetery every day to visit with his sweetheart. She would sing him Spanish love songs and beg to be released from her tomb.

Finally, late one night, he could no longer ignore her pleas. He freed her from her prison and brought her home. There, he slept by her side every night, taking special care of her as time, and - er - activity, caused her to start losing tissue. He inserted wire hangers into her bones to hold her limbs in place, and filled her chest and abdominal cavities with cloth so they wouldn't collapse. He wanted her to retain her girlish figure. He inserted glass eyes into her empty eye sockets so she could see him, and covered her decaying skin with silk and wax to preserve her beauty. He had to use plenty of disinfectant and perfume to mask the odor, but that was okay. In time, that too would pass.

He lived in relative peace this way, with his love, until 7 years after her death. Somehow, rumors had started to spread, and eventually reached Helen's sister. She could no longer ignore the whispers. She confronted Carl and learned the truth.

The authorities were notified, and it wasn't long before Elena was removed from Carl's home. Though charges were filed against the man, and despite being found competent to stand trial, the case was eventually dropped, seemingly for lack of anything with which to charge him. The original charges of "malicious and wanton disfigurement of a grave" carried a 2-year statute of limitations, and the time had long expired. With nothing to charge him with, and having been deemed sane, Carl was a free man.

Apparently not having been desecrated enough, authorities chose to put Elena's body on display for 3 days. The public was curious, and they demanded access. In those few days, over 6000 people filed past Helen's glass coffin to catch a glimpse of the dead bride. Nothing in Barnum's circus could compare to this spectacle. Eventually, Elena de Hoyos was buried in a secret tomb, in an effort to keep Carl away from her body.

Carl wasn't so easily deterred, however. Taking her away from him didn't extinguish the love they had for one another. If anything, it strengthened their bond. He had a wax replica of Elena's face fashioned from the death mask that had been taken so long ago, and continued to live with her by his side.

He spent his remaining years writing his life story and engaging with tourists, even selling mementos to the curious. Eventually, he was found dead, slumped over by his homemade organ, Elena watching serenely from on high shelf.