Betula
By Rachel Lieberman

My wife has a pointed face. Over the years, she's gotten very good at pressing her lips together, narrowing her eyes, and scrunching her nose when she's mad at me. One day, she was angry because of something she found in our bedroom.

She was standing in the front doorway when I got home from work. "Go upstairs," she said. "You need to see it."

"See what?"

"Just go upstairs."

The creaky walk up the staircase was the longest I'd ever taken. The lights were all off, but there was a faint rustling from the bedroom.

My heart thumped and my stomach lurched when I saw it. There was a naked woman lying on our bed. But only at first glance was it truly human. Her curves were sensational, and she writhed on her back and moaned as if the very air was bringing her to climax. I walked closer to her. Her skin was a milky white, glowing even.

She turned her head to me suddenly, and did not speak, but giggled. Her eyes were slightly larger than normal eyes, and her pupils took up most of their space, giving her the look of an animal about to pounce. Whatever created her face had been careful to use as few and as sharp bones as possible when sculpting it. Her hair was gray, but not the gray of an older woman. It was the washed gray of a raincloud just as it starts to gather water. When her head bobbed slightly to the side, I caught a glimpse of her ears. They were tiny except for the edges, which shot outward like arrows. Her lips were thin and angled where they should have curved. They startled me more than any other feature.

"What the fuck, Harold." My wife had come up the stairs as well and was now standing directly behind me. "What the fuck."

"I — I don't know, Marni. I have no idea who she is."

Marni let out her signature impatient sigh. "I just came up to vacuum a few hours ago, and there it was. But what the fuck. You know what it is, don't you?"

"No."

"Well, I don't suppose your father would think it necessary to warn you." Her sharp, accusing syllable made me wince. "It's a nymph. They come to tempt husbands from their wives."

"Oh."

"Don't oh me."

"Well, what do we do about it?"

"I'm calling my mother." Marni marched to the nightstand and picked up the phone. I glanced at the nymph one more time.

"Shouldn't we just tell it to leave?" I asked.

"No, Harold. You can't just ask supernatural beings to leave your house." She sneered at the nymph, the receiver pressed to her ear. "They don't operate under the laws of human decency. Mother? Oh, thank God. I need your help. I've got one. A nymph," she said, rubbing her forehead. "Well, how do I get rid of it?" Her expression fell. "Are you sure? No, no, I suppose you're right. But how long?" She did that thing with her lips again. "I see. Thank you, Mother." She hung up.

"What did she say?"

"She said we just have to wait it out, ignore it, and it'll go away on its own."

"Like a wart," I said.

"What?"

"Wait it out until it goes away, like a wart."

"Yes, Harold. Like a wart. Except a wart won't be trying to fuck you." She looked at the nymph, who was caressing itself. "Oh, for Christ's sake. Get it out of here."

"Why me?"

"It's here for you. It'll listen to you. Get it out."

It smiled at me and patted the other side of the bed. "Get on up," I said.

It shook its head coyly and continued to pat the bed.

"Do what you have to do," Marni muttered from the corner of her mouth.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I want to get to sleep!" she snapped.

I held out my hand to it. "Why don't we go downstairs?"

It cast a triumphant glance at Marni and took my hand. "That's right. That's right, you weird, freaky thing." I led it to the door. It left the room and I shut the door behind it, locking it shut. "I'm going to guess it doesn't speak English."

"I'll get the windows. It'll climb right back up," said Marni.

"I'm sorry, why can't we just lock it out of the house?"

"My mother told me it's easy to kick it out of one room, but it'll always find a way into the house. Just keep rejecting it like that. I'm sure in a few days it'll get bored and leave." She straightened her dress out, finally looking calm for the first time since this morning. "It's going to be okay."

I smiled. "It is. Just wait. It'll be gone before we know it, I'm sure."



A month later, the nymph was still there. Eventually, it figured out how to fiddle with the lock on our bedroom door, often entering in the middle of the night, standing over my side of the bed. I would see its face, hopeful and always seductive, whenever I opened my eyes for my two AM bathroom break.

"Forget what I said," Marni said during dinner one night. "I want it out of this house. Now."

"How? You said —  "

"I know. I know what I said." She dropped her fork onto her plate. "We'll take it far away. Somewhere it won't come back from."

The next day was Saturday. I coaxed it into the back seat of the car. Marni stayed on the front porch staircase until it was inside.

"Maybe I shouldn't go," she said.

"Up to you."

She scowled. "No, I'm not leaving you alone with that thing."

I opened up the passenger side door. "Then come on."

We drove the two and a half hours to Ocean City in silence. The nymph had taken to making some sort of strange purring sound whenever I was around, perhaps thinking I would find it attractive. But it only made me think of the cat my wife and I bought after our honeymoon, which ripped up our curtains and gnawed at us repeatedly before we finally sold it.

"Will you stop it?" Marni snapped. She glared behind her. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the nymph smile, as if she'd won something.

"Don't let her get to you. Just a little longer, and she'll be out of our lives forever."

We parked in front of the boardwalk, led her to the edge of the ocean, left her there, and got ourselves lost in the early evening crowds. After a few minutes, we looked around. She wasn't there. Marni and I exchanged smiles. We got into the car and drove home as fast as the speed limits would allow. Along the way, we talked as we hadn't in years. She told me everything she'd been too tense to say over the past month. How worried she'd been, how hard it had been to be intimate with me despite the fear the nymph would win if she didn't, and how incredibly helpless she felt until now. I loved her. Utterly loved her.

Everything was going to be okay.



We got back to Manhattan, pulled into the driveway, and held each other's hands tight as we walked up the stairs and through the front door.

There it was.

The nymph was wearing one of Marni's dresses. An old, faded one from the pile she kept in the attic. It had a steaming, rancid-smelling casserole in its hands, with no oven mitts. Marni and I stood paralyzed as the nymph walked straight up to me and kissed me on the cheek. It set the dish on the dining room table and stood next to it, hands folded neatly.



I left the decision to clothe or not clothe the nymph up to Marni. At first she thought clothes would be an improvement, but no matter what it wore, it flaunted them like a seasoned pin-up model, so Marni put padlocks on the attic door and both closets, keeping copies of the keys with her at all times. She bequeathed me with a key to my own closet, at least.

Things were quiet. We ignored it fairly successfully. There was a distinct arc where the nymph became more determined to seduce me. It would try all the tricks. It took whipped cream out of the fridge and sprayed it on its nipples. It stood, in a suggestive pose, still as a statue, while I did my morning routine. Sometimes it tried to touch me, but I, visibly flushed, always told it to stop.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked Marni one night. She was sitting next to me in bed, no book in her hands, staring straight at the wall. Under the door, we saw the shadow of the nymph pacing back and forth. It had a habit of waiting until after the lights in the bedroom were off, when we were sure to be asleep, then jiggling the door handle until it opened. I suggested we get a padlock, but Marni said she couldn't bring herself to do it. She said it felt like giving in.

Now she breathed steadily, the stress of the day and recent events obviously wearing on her. She looked as if she'd give anything to sleep, and anything to fight it.

"I'm thinking that maybe we should do it."

"What?"

"That you should do it."

"Do what?"

"Don't be dense." She turned to me. "Fuck it."

"What?"

She leaned forward until her face was centimeters from mine. "Just fuck it. Once."

"I thought she wanted to steal me from you."

"I don't know. Maybe."

"I don't think I can do that, Marni."

"Not even for me?"

I thought she'd gone crazy. I just shook my head, hoping that would be enough to indicate I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Mother said she doesn't know what happens if the nymph fails and doesn't leave. She said they're usually gone by now. I'm afraid, Harold. I'm scared it's becoming angry, that it'll try to hurt me if it can't have you."

"Has it indicated that?"

"No. It just does the same crap it always does. But it's unsettling." She started to cry. "Why doesn't it just leave?"

I held her close, watching the shadow outside. "I don't know," I said. "I want it to leave too."

"We can't have friends over," she sobbed into my flannel pajama top. "I'll have to cancel the dinner party next week."

"You've really been looking forward to that."

"I know. But we'll have another one when it leaves."

"Of course."



The next evening, John and Lisa Raminotti invited us out for dinner. The nymph didn't follow. It was a welcomed reprieve, and an opportunity for Marni to un-invite her first guest.

"So," Lisa said as we sat down, "how's life treating the two of you?"

"Could be better, actually," I said.

"Oh?"

"We've got a nymph," Marni blurted out, clearly ashamed of herself. "So, while we're on the subject, I'm afraid we won't be having the party next week."

Lisa put her hand on the table and grasped Marni's. "But it's your birthday, darling."

"I don't think I'll be able to enjoy it much with that thing around."

"That's the only thing holding you back?" Lisa seemed shocked. "A silly little nymph?"

"It's been almost two months," I said. "Not really a little thing."

"Then you just don't know how to handle it properly. My cousin had a nymph, and the way she handled it, the thing was gone in a week and a half. Never laid a hand on her husband. Let me guess. You heard the old fashioned method of ignoring it 'til it goes away?"

We both nodded. Lisa laughed. Her husband sipped his wine.

"Listen, you have to understand why it's there, Marni. It's not just there to steal Harold from you. It wants to make you angry. That's where the fun really is for it. Ignoring it doesn't work, because it can still see how furious you are. What you really need to do is the exact opposite of what it wants. Treat it with kindness, enthusiasm. Make it think you're happy that it's there. And don't cancel the party, either. Then it'll know how upset you are."

"Will that work?" I asked.

"If Marni does it, yes, it should work just fine. And you should be kind to it too, but that's where it gets tricky. Treat it like an old friend from college, completely platonic. Give it no indication that you're flirting."

"Well." Marni sat upright in her chair, a look of relief sweeping over her face. "I can't tell you how happy I am."

I excused myself to the bathroom, touching Marni's hand as I left the table. While I was washing up afterwards, John came in.

"Bit of a shame," he muttered, walking to the urinal.

"How's that?"

"Just that you've got this gorgeous creature in your house and you can't do anything about it. The minute you fuck one of those, they leave and you're left with a bitchy wife who makes you sleep on the couch. You'll never stick your dick in anything decent again." He talked like he knew from experience, but Lisa seemed happy enough.

I shook my hands of the excess water. "Oh?"

"Happened to my brother. Never told Lisa, of course."

"Sure."

"He told me it was worth it, though. Can you believe it? I mean, I guess I can see why. His wife never shut up, and these things stay silent. He said for the few seconds you got em in bed, they'll do anything for you." He turned his neck to look at me. "Between you and me, my brother's an idiot. Couldn't steal candy from a baby without bragging about it. He couldn't get away with it. You? I bet you could. Screw it when Marni's out shopping or something, and when it leaves, tell her it was just cause she did such a great job doing what Lisa said. She never has to know."

"I'm a little uncomfortable with what you're implying, John."

John laughed. "I'm not implying anything." He zipped his fly and walked out the door.



"That was wonderful." Marni hadn't stopped smiling since her conversation with Lisa. "I think we've got this figured out. Just don't talk too much, okay? And don't smile at it if you can."

As usual, the nymph was inside, waiting. Usually, Marni would ignore it bitterly before going upstairs to bed.

"Darling." She walked swiftly to the nymph and air-kissed both cheeks. "I admit, I was worried you wouldn't be here."

If the nymph would talk, it might have said all manner of things at that moment, hardly any of them without cursing. Its expression changed frequently in those few seconds from confusion to anger.

"Now, I don't know if you heard, but in a couple of days, I'm going to be having a birthday party here. And I thought, what's a silly old birthday. Just another notch on the staff. The real event, the real interesting one, is you, dear, isn't it? I mean, everyone on earth has been to a birthday party. Only a few have ever met a nymph face to face. Oh!" She pinched the nymph's cheek. "What a treat you are! Come on." She took it by the wrist into the kitchen. I followed behind, taking care to keep my distance. "So, this is going to be your party just as much as mine. I was thinking we could cook together, serve together. You can serve food, can't you? It's very easy, just hold the plates and make sure people are eating when they want to. Easy, isn't it?" The nymph's back was towards me. Marni put her hands on her hips. "Don't give me that look. As long as you're in this house, you'll help out. I don't mean to sound cross, but it'll make Harold and I so happy." It turned its neck to look at me. I gave it a tiny strategic smile to show my approval.



Marni made the nymph wear clothes the night of the party. She debated about it for awhile, and finally gave it an old sundress of hers. It had dark blue and dark green stripes, which looked so strange against the nymph's skin. Marni herself wore a yellow gown she'd bought just for the occasion. She baked four kinds of canapés, two different casseroles, five choices of side dishes, and three desserts. The nymph did the serving. It probably would have dropped the plates deliberately, except Marni had instructed me to pay it frequent, ambiguous compliments, and brush my skin against it in what could be construed as accidental incidents. Our guests were impressed. Lisa had warned them beforehand to keep their comments vague in the nymph's presence.

"I told you," said Lisa. "And she looks just perfect."

Marni smiled. "Thank you."

The nymph was steady on its feet and could hold two heavy trays with no problem. It didn't look pleased, but as long as I smiled at it, told it that it looked lovely tonight, it did as Marni asked.

After dinner, Marni opened her gifts. She forgot herself then, forgot what she'd told the nymph about the night. Everyone said happy birthday throughout the night. Once dinner was halfway done, they stopped welcoming the nymph to our home. I didn't pick it for being very smart in matters beyond its nature, but it knew that it wasn't really its party. It knew it was being played. Every time Marni unwrapped another present, the nymph's lips resembled Marni's just a little bit more.

"Well, this has been absolutely wonderful. Thank you everyone, so much. I have one more thing before you go. How does everyone feel about mimosas?"

There were general murmurs of agreement, but John Raminotti cleared his throat. "That does sound nice, Marni, but mimosas are a little girly for my count, no offense." Marni responded with a raised brow. "What do you say to me and the boys enjoying some cigars on the back deck?"

"Sure. No problem. Harry? Going outside?"

"Um, yeah."

I couldn't read her smile. "Have fun."

It wasn't until we reached the back patio doors that I realized the nymph had followed us out. I'm not sure Marni noticed either. John passed out the cigars as if he had no idea either, but as he lit his, he said, "Nymphs are so predictable."

"Thought you never met one," I said, my stomach a bit uneasy.

"Amazing thing, Harry. You can find almost any information out on the Internet. They go where the men go. Not hard to figure out, besides."

"Is there such thing as a male nymph?" Andy Case asked. "Like, something that breaks into your house to seduce your wife?"

"Never heard of it, but who knows?" John puffed a perfect ring. "Anyway, she is gorgeous. You really haven't hit it yet, Harry?"

I gave a feeble smile, or more accurately, a feeble upturn of the lips. "Not my type."

John let out a hearty guffaw. "Sure, sure. Come on, man, we won't tell Marni. Swear."

Marni wanted me to keep playing along, keep pretending I liked having her around. But it didn't seem any closer to going away, and I just wanted my life back. "Look, frankly, the whole thing is tiring me out." I was used to it now, acting like it wasn't there. "I'm annoyed more than anything."

"Harry, I'm sure Marni's been on your case, but it's not here for her benefit." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I told you, there are ways around your wife."

"I'm not interested, John."

He sneered. "You're not better than any of us. You're tired of it? I'm tired of your shit."

"Calm down," said Andy.

"I'm ready to pop this guy," John muttered. "Asshole." He gave the nymph a bitter wink. "Come over to my house. You'd have a much less complicated time there." Her expression was placid.



Marni didn't lose her glow once the guests left. Her mimosa time had obviously gone well. "The girls asked me about her," she muttered when the nymph was out of earshot. "They insisted, can you believe it, that you'd already done it."

"What'd you tell them?"

"I told them they were crazy. I mean, they didn't think that because of you. They thought it was just an inevitability." She stacked the used plates together. "Anyway, it still went wonderfully. With any luck, she'll be gone by the morning."



Marni went to bed. I pretended to, but nearing four in the morning I still couldn't sleep. I went into the hall. No sign of the nymph. Downstairs, still nothing. I was sure it had gone. Smiling, I pulled an old photo album off the living room bookshelf and looked through the pictures as I sank into the couch. There were some stray photographs from our wedding, excess from the official album. They were the goofier ones, the less dignified shots that the photographer had been embarrassed to pair with the others. In one, Marni grinned with teeth covered in chocolate cake. This was typical of her back then. Less regard for what other people thought.

I turned the page. Another one of Marni, this time from a year or so before our wedding. I took it on a hiking trip to the Catskills. She wore a gray tank top and tight black shorts. Her hands were on her hips and nearly every inch of her was soaked in sweat. I traced the curves of her torso with my finger. There was a white shadow in the top of my vision.

"Thought you'd gone," I muttered.

It let out that strange purr. I gripped the edges of the album tightly, then turned it around. "Look. This is my wife. This is the woman I love."

It feigned interest in a theatrical way. "You fuck. You've been trying to ruin her. To ruin me. She was like you once. Not afraid to be seductive. Not afraid of insulting people." I sighed. "Actually, you do care, don't you? You care what I think." It danced the tips of its fingers along my arm. "I don't know how well you know humans, but for me, I don't like women who try that hard to impress me. All I want is something real. Something honest."

It placed both palms on my upper thighs, its face inches from mine. "You're as real as real can get," I conceded. "But only in some ways. Only in the sense that you won't leave. You can't deny the existence of something that won't leave." I grabbed its wrists, my entire body shaking. I hoped it was with rage. There was a smile on its face.

"I want you out of my house."

It hummed an indistinct tune.

"What will it take?"

It shrugged.

I pulled it down and stood up, pinning it on the couch between my arms. "What I'd like you to be feeling now, afraid and trapped, that's how my wife feels, how I feel. But you don't feel it."

It licked its lips. I bent closer. My crotch rested against its knee. "How does it feel, knowing that this is your existence? You're a whore no one wants."

Its eyes fell to the bulge between my legs. It smiled.

"That doesn't mean I want you. I'd have taken you by now."

I remembered what Lisa said. That we had to be careful what we showed it. "I don't want you. I will never want you."

It looked angry. Directly at me. For the first time.

"I will never want you."

It bared its teeth.

"Never."

It grabbed my face and kissed me hard. I pushed it away. It grabbed my crotch. My arm, with all the energy that had been building up, slashed forward, hitting the nymph hard across the face. It stumbled back slightly.

"You need to leave and never come back."

It shook its head.

"Why won't you go away? There's nothing for you here."

It stood close to me again and grabbed the front of my flannel pajama shirt. It moved in for another kiss, and I knew then that I couldn't take another. I took the album with my right hand and whacked the monster over the head with as much force as I could handle. The force sent it spinning and stumbling back. It hissed, baring teeth I didn't know it had as it nursed the mild wound. At first I felt intimidated by the fierceness, but the bruise already forming made me realize how fragile it was, how much of an opportunity I had to destroy it.

I gathered my courage and hit it again, this time squarely over the head. There was no blood, but a thick, sticky, sap-like substance stuck to the album. I sniffed it. It was sap. "Holy shit."

The noises it made then sounded like a duck being slowly run over by a minivan. Its movements were distinctively slower, more stilted. It struggled with an attempt to get to its feet, and ultimately failed altogether, preferring to stay prone on the rug.

"Fuck you," I said, with one final reassurance that this was good. This was for Marni. This was the only way to get our lives back. I crouched down and pummeled it ten times, counting methodically in my head. Ten seemed enough. More than enough. I kept my eyes closed until I was done, and then dared a glance with a heavy stomach.

It seemed frozen, with wide, glassy eyes and an absolutely still body. The sap glistened in its hair. I reached out to see if the deed had really been done, but before I could make contact, everything shifted. Its skin and hair hardened, and its limbs fused together. A moment later, all that remained on my living room floor was a large branch of a birch tree.

I sat still for a moment, then gathered the branch and the album, and took both of them to the back patio. I removed the picture of Marni on the hike and slipped it into my pants pocket, then tossed the branch and the album onto the tiny patch of grass below.

"Harold?" Marni came downstairs right after I came back inside. "What's going on?"

I ran my palm over my face. "It's gone."

"Gone? Really?" She walked down a few more steps. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. I went downstairs, told it that nothing was ever going to work, and it left. I think the party smoked it out."
"Oh my God." She ran up to me and hugged me around the neck. "We did it. It worked."

"Yeah." I turned my head to smile at her. "It worked."

"I love you." She kissed my cheek.

I grabbed her arms and held them tighter to me. "I love you too."

 

 
Rachel Lieberman's fiction can also be found in Awkward, Opium, A cappella Zoo, and others. She lives in Tampa, Florida. To read more of her work, please visit rachellieberman.wordpress.com

 

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