Thumbletim

It doesn’t have to make sense.

Just go with it.

But this is bleeping crazy, right? There is a small, attractive man, in my drink.

These are the things that my mind is screaming on repeat. Let me back up and explain.

Last Friday evening I was finishing work (from home) and I decided to treat myself to a nice glass of Merlot. It had been a long week, and it was raining heavily. I was growing more and more lonely by the day. I live alone with my cat, Jeffery, in a small apartment in New York City. As I poured a glass of the rich red liquid into a large glass I pondered how nice it would be to go out and see people. Maybe go on a date. I’d been single for an outrageous amount of time, made even more preposterous by the current plague. I set my glass aside and decided I would get dressed up, put on a little makeup, and have a date with myself.

While putting the finishing touches on my face I heard a great clatter coming from the kitchen. Assuming it was Jeffery getting his naughty ass on the counter I yelled, “Jeffery you butt! Get your silly orange booty off of the counter!” Hearing another crash, I gave an annoyed sigh and marched towards the kitchen, expecting to find whatever cat created catastrophe was awaiting me.

Instead I found Jeffery in the middle of the living room with his tabby orange fur raised in alarm. His tail was bent and in full bush. Obviously something had spooked him. Surveying the room, I tried to find what had frightened my cat, and when I could see nothing I decided he must have been afraid of his own shadow. Somehow the window was open and there were a few items that had been knocked from the window sill. Confused I shut the window and picked up the toppled items. Maybe I had opened the window? Either way, f-ing silly cat.

I went to take a sip of my Merlot when it happened, I saw him. A chillingly loud screech escaped my mouth as I struggled to believe my eyes. Sitting-no RELAXING-in my wine was a small man the size of my middle finger. His hair was a dark brown and his clothing was completely soaked through and stained red. He looked up at me and smiled a knowing smile and shrugged. The smile said, I know this is strange but what can I do?

Rubbing my eyes, I took another look. The small man was still there. Was I somehow hallucinating? If so, what could have caused it?

Then he SPOKE!

“I assure you, you are not crazy. I am very real.”

My mouth opened in a wide terror. I’m having a fever dream, I got sick and am having a dream.

The small man spoke, AGAIN.

“If it helps this is also not how I would like to make a first impression. Especially with such a beautiful lady,” he said with such ease as if this was a normal occurrence, as if it was normal to sit in a stranger’s wine glass. As if it was normal to be four inches tall. I looked at Jeffery for confirmation. Jeffery was still puffed up and unhappy, staring directly at the counter where my wine stood. Maybe I wasn’t crazy,

“Please forgive me. Usually I avoid breaking and entering but as you can tell it is raining out and I was so very cold that I could not help myself when I saw your window could easily be opened. Your home looked so cozy and inviting, I couldn’t help myself,” the tiny man tried to explain.

Somehow I found my voice, “But how did you end up in my wine?” I asked with animosity in my voice.

“Ah, yes, well as you can tell your feline was not a huge fan of my entrance and it chased me from the window, so I found refuge in the only place he seemed unable to see me, the counter. And then I noticed the glass of wine and thought it would be nice to sample the vintage. It’s been some time since I’ve had any libations, but unfortunately when I hoisted myself up I lost my balance and fell into your wine. Much to my great embarrassment,” the small man explained.

The tale was possibly too hyperbolic to be true but I was growing tired from the shock, so naturally I decided to embrace the wild nature of the experience. “At least give me your name and your clothing so I can wash and dry it. If I am going to be having company with a Borrower I’d rather you not be soaking in my wine,” I joked to lighten the tension in my mind.

“That would be very kind of you, and my mother called me Tim. Although my friends call me Thumbletom.”

“You have friends?” I asked too quickly. I tried to remove the shock from my face.

“Well they are mostly field mice, crows, and cockchafers, one mole.. .”

“Excuse me?!” I balked at the possible insult just offered to me.

“Cockchafers. Or doodlebugs, as they are more commonly known. Horrible ugly little beetles. They do not like to share but their company will do in a pinch” Tim said calmly.

“Right,” I said, “Well better get to washing out those stains. Let me figure out what you can wear in the meantime.” I racked my brain but the only thing I could think to do was to use a clean washcloth as a tent for him to change out of his clothing and then to double it was a blanket for him to wear while I washed his clothing.

Taking a washcloth from a nearby kitchen drawer I shaped it into a cone the best I could, with the opening facing away from me. Awkwardly I offered my hand to Tim and he climbed onto my palm with a nimble grace they felt like he had done this before. After setting him on the counter he ducked into his makeshift tent to change. His head emerged from the top like a cone puppet as he handed me his damp, dyed clothing. I noted how small each item was, his blue top and brown pants, the stitching looked so fine it had to be done by hand. I decided to set them in a bowl with equal parts dishwasher detergent and hydrogen peroxide.

Then, because Tim was obviously shivering, I lit a small candle and shoved it near him. He huddled near his small bonfire. The light from the flame highlighted his strong jaw and sharp cheek bones. I noted that his hair was wavy, although cut at odd angles as if he used a small knife.

“I feel I must apologize, this is not how I would want to be dressed on a first date, it’s a tad embarrassing to be so exposed” Tim swished the dishcloth around to highlight its impracticality. He flexed his toes, and for the first time I noticed he had no shoes.

“This is not a date, if you remember you scared my cat and fell into my wine,” I pointed out.

Tim smiled and gestured to my black dress, “A poor joke on my part, I merely meant to point out how nice you look. Were you going out?”

“Oh, no. Thanks. I mean. I was having a self-date night because it has been a while since I was out,” I fumbled for words. Tim’s expression met me with warm brown eyes and we both laughed, if a bit nervously.

“Tell me about yourself,” I said, trying to fill the space and not think about how strange it was to have a small man wrapped in a dish cloth on my counter. I dragged down a tin of paprika for him to use as a stool.

“Well, not much to tell I’m afraid,” he said settling onto the paprika tin, “My mother always wanted a child but had no luck until one day she found me in a bushel of barley corn. When I grew old enough, I decided I wanted to see more of the world, although most of my days are spend wresting caterpillars and making bargains with crows. I bring the crows shiny objects and they give me rides to new towns. It’s not a bad life,” Tim mused.

“You wrestle caterpillars?”

“They are surprisingly keen on demonstrating their strength, which is minimal. So I humor them. Although toads are much worse. They cheat. Bloody long tongues,” Tim shivered.

“That sounds frightening. Aren’t you worried that something will think you are prey and eat you?” I asked, fear flanking every word. I gave a guilty glance towards Jeffery who still seemed to be intrigued and was sniffing the air with gusto.

“All too often! But to be fair I would make a delicious chewy treat. But let’s not focus on that. I admit that I am terribly interested in you.. .” Tim left off searing for my name. Which I had not provided.

“Andrea. And I suppose the easy version is that I work in computer science and tech. I lived in Brooklyn my whole life. I have a younger brother and an overbearing mother. That about sums me up.”

“On the contrary, I think it only scratched the surface,” Tim smiled wide. I felt my cheeks and ears blush.

I realized the clothes were done soaking and decided to wash them by hand, unsure if they would fall apart in the washing machine. I then hung them to dry on a chair. Digging into the fridge I brought out an assortment of cheese, fruit, and bread. Trying my best to make a small charcuterie board on a spice lid I brought it over and set it next to Tim on the paprika tin. Then I washed and filled a pen cap with wine.

“An excellent vintage, I must say,” Tim admired taking a small sip.

“It’s boxed,” I said.

Tim grinned. We both laughed.

We spent most of the night like that. The wine warmed our brains and hearts as we laughed and shared stories. The best by far were the ones Tim provided. Tim told me about the time he almost had to marry a field mouse’s daughter. He narrowly escaped by hiding in the feathers of a swan, that later tied to eat him. I especially liked the tale of the time he had to use a fry basket as a makeshift boat but it kept leaking so he had to hastily try to fill the gaps with leftover fries. I hadn’t laughed so hard in ages. It felt good to be connecting to another being.

Sometime past midnight Tim’s clothing was finally dry. With a sad sigh I handed the clothes to him and he changed again in his “tent”. I found myself wishing he could stay. It had turned out to be an unexpectedly pleasant evening. Even Jeffery had settled down and didn’t seem to mind Tim’s presence. Although I wasn’t sure if that meant he wouldn’t eat Tim if given the chance.

After gently ferrying Tim over to the window in my hand, he turned around halfway through leaving and said, “See you next week when I fall into your soup.”

I grinned wide, “Its a date.”