The Paris Review - Fall 2016

“It doesn’t really sink, but it looks like it’s sinking.”
“How do they stop it from sinking?”
“They don’t really drill a hole. They just pretend there’s a hole.”
“But what makes it look, you know, accurate?”
“Special effects.”
“Ah.”
“So, listen you guys. I really owe ya. I’ll get out here and make sure to
have passes for you tomorrow.”
“I can’t do it,” Mandy said. “I have to go to Dick’s cousin’s wedding at
Pier House.”
“I can’t either,” Jake said. “My buddy and I are driving to Lauderdale.”
“I need to reciprocate somehow,” mermaid overboard said.
“That’s not necessary. What did you think, that we’d leave you with some
dog that’s probably rabid, out there all alone?”
“I think there are people who would have.”
“We’re not awful people,” Mandy said.
“Oh, I know that,” he said. “Hey, turn off the ignition, if you don’t mind.
You heard how much sound carries.”
“Right,” Jake said.
Just as it got quiet, Rose appeared in the binoculars. Little Rose. Her face
was smeared with something that looked like real blood. She was wearing an
old-fashioned dress with bows tied at the sides. She rushed toward her grandmother,
screaming. Another man, with a camera mounted on his shoulder,
filmed the scene from a different angle, as the first cameraman continued
filming with his camera mounted on a dolly. Nevertheless, it rolled around
the deck as a man standing on the shore activated a wave machine.
“There aren’t still panthers in the Everglades, are there?” the young
guy asked.
“I think they’re long gone,” Jake said. “Aren’t they?”
“Panther lamps here and there,” Mandy said. “At flea markets and places
like that.”
“It’s New York City decor,” Jake said. “No kidding. People like panther
lamps. Even lava lights have come back. I inherited my gramma’s lava light.”
“That’s true,” the young guy nodded. “You two . . . you know, what do I
care if you have a little something going on, huh?”
“We don’t,” Mandy said. “I’m living with my boyfriend, Dick Mowbry.
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