As the week goes on he continues to feel increasingly crummy. After he describes his malaise to her on the phone, Traci sounds genuinely concerned and nearly insists that he goes to see a doctor. Though the last doctor he saw was his old pediatrician (and that's obviously not appropriate anymore) he agrees and sets up an appointment with the local internal medicine group for early the next week.
At the office he describes his symptoms - lethargy, weight loss, general weakness - to the doctor's assistant as she takes a brief medical history. He's always been relatively healthy. "So, let's get you weighed and measured," she says as she stands him up on the scale and takes her readings. "Five foot eleven, 153 pounds," she announces, writing in his chart, "does that sound right?"
"Yeah, that's what my scale said this morning," he replies, "but I've always been told that I was six feet tall. I must be, like, five eleven and a half or something..."
"Hm," she intones, checking her measurement again, "I dunno...maybe five eleven and a quarter...but that might be stretching it."
Weird. Somehow he has it in his head that he is at least six feet tall. But, the last time he was really measured was...what? Right before college? Whatever - it was a long time ago. Maybe he's getting senile in his old age, he thinks, chuckling to himself. Nonetheless, his exam is pretty uneventful, nothing too unusual. Though the doctor does want to run some bloodwork, he suggests Rich may be dealing with some mild depression. He is told to try exercising - which he knows he should do anyway - and cut back on the drinking. If he isn't feeling any better in two weeks, the doctor tells him, come back in.
Traci calls him several days later, asking if he has the results from his bloodwork yet. Secretly she's concerned that the spell she and Emily worked on him has gone awry, sickened him, and is partly relieved to find that everything seems normal. She encourages him when he mentions that he's trying to start running again, now that he has a new pair of sneakers. His old track shoes from high school, which he found in his closet, are falling apart and no longer fit well - kinda stretched out. What he doesn't tell her is that he was measured to a size nine at the shoe store, where he's used to wearing a ten, sometimes a ten and a half. That would explain why all his other shoes have been feeling a little uncomfortable recently. He has lost weight, he thinks, but can one actually lose foot fat?
Though he can handle little more than a mile or two at a time, a week of running makes him feel a little better about himself. The weight, however, continues to fall off him. Makes sense, right? he figures, as he's burning more calories and certainly drinking less (no one's really called him to go out since the party). Nonetheless, he decides to dig out his old plastic weight set from the basement; a little bit of lifting should help him bulk back up a bit. He's embarrassed, as he sits panting and wheezing during his first workout, at how little he can lift. He was stronger in high school.
On the phone with Traci that evening, however, he possesses a bit more braggadocio. He makes himself sound like quite the pro with the weight set, and shouldn't have been surprised when she invites herself over to join in on his workouts. Though apprehensive at first, he figures that she'll actually be a good motivator for him. A pretty girl to impress will make him have to get up to speed more quickly.
That Saturday, she shows up midmorning in white lycra and an obviously new pair of sneakers. Though they work out separately - she spotting him on several exercises, doing mostly aerobic stuff herself - he enjoys being able to sneak glimpses at her body. She is trim and fit and curvy in all the right ways, filling out her outfit admirably. She works lighter weights to tone and strengthen her already knockout form. The next day, however, they do squats together, and he is astounded by her performance. "Yeah, I've always had strong legs," she tells him as they add weight to the bar together, "but this is, like, more than I've ever done." He realizes that she's squatting nearly as much as him, with more reps - though this was never really his best exercise. If he doesn't spring back into shape soon, he thinks, this could get embarrassing.
As they finish their leg workout, he asks if she's alright, having noticed her constant fidgeting and adjustments to her sports bra. "Yeah, I'm okay," she replies, fiddling with it once again, "it's just a little tight...and this is one of my new ones."
"Uh," he offers, "maybe it shrunk in the wash?"
"Mmm...yeah, I dunno..." she answers dismissively, "maybe..."
For the next week they work out pretty consistently, in the evenings to fit her school schedule. He's not getting any stronger, for sure - though it is a little early to expect results - but he may feel a little better for the exercise. Nonetheless, he still goes back for a follow-up with his doctor and is measured again by the same assistant. "Five-foot ten...wait...that was different last week, huh? Let me remeasure. No, still five-ten...five-nine and three-quarters, actually...How...?" She sounds confused. "We'll have to have the doctor check this out."
He is confused himself, a bit scared, as he sits in the exam room, waiting for the doctor. He couldn't have actually shrunk, right? That just doesn't happen, does it?
The doctor remeasures Rich himself, but comes up with the same result. Trying to reassure Rich, to calm his obvious agitation, he says that it may have just been a mismeasure at the last visit. But, he agrees, it does seem unusual, and they should rule out any pathology. The doctor has trouble thinking of much which could cause actual height loss in an otherwise healthy twenty-six year old. Acute osteoporosis? Spinal problems? Nevertheless, he decides to run a full-body MRI, CT scan, a bone-density screening and a more extensive battery of blood work.
Rich goes home uneasy. This is impossible, of course. But, it would explain his ill-fitting clothes, certainly, his recent weakness. Well, he figures, there's worse things that could happen. Just as long as it doesn't continue.
He wants to talk to his parents down south, but they're away on their friends' boat, touring the Caribbean for the next six weeks. Though neither of them has a cell phone, he could probably track them down if necessary. But, he's not even really sure that there's a problem yet; he shouldn't worry them. Knowing his mom, they'd probably turn right around and head home. We don't want that, do we?
He doesn't really feel comfortable confiding in his friends about his worries, either, but does bring it up with Mark when they finally get together for a beer. "Dude, that's whack," Mark quips, "nobody our age gets shorter. It's got to be a mistake." He tells Rich not to worry, half-heartedly offering to do anything he can, but explains that he is going away for the next few weeks with his family. He'll be staying with a friend from college, hanging out at his beach house in San Diego while his parents tour a bunch of schools in California with Emily.
"That's cool," Rich offers, "I'm sure you'll have a good time."
"Yeah, man. Sun, suds and sexy ladies!" Mark says gleefully. "And you, buddy, better stay away from jailbait while I'm gone!"
"No, dude," Rich adds nervously, though in part glad that Mark finally broached the topic, "she's just a kid."
"Yeah, a kid with a huge rack!" Mark jokes, "I mean, Jesus Christ, did you see her at your party? Oh, yeah, of course you saw her...in your bedr-"
"Shutupnothinghappened! Shewasjustdrunkandwantedt-"
"Whoah, whoah, alright...sorry!" Marks laughs, calming Rich down, "But, I mean, I swear she's getting bigger, like, almost every time I see her recently..." Suddenly Mark sounded a little too enthusiastic, notices Rich a little too rapt with attention. "Well, uh...anyway..." he trails off, "I should get going...early flight tomorrow. I'll see you in a few weeks, after Halloween?"
After parting, early in the evening, Rich heads back to his parents' house. As well as he can, he measures himself at home, checks the fit of many of his clothes, anything he can do to maybe ease his mind. Some of his old pants, he reassures himself, still seem to fit fine. He has lost weight, he reminds himself, so it's normal for trouser legs to hang a little low. That he's down another hole in his belts. And he always liked his shirt cuffs a little long, the collar a bit loose, right?
Though he hasn't mentioned anything to Traci, he catches her looking at him funny during one of their weekend workouts. "What?" he asks, feeling her eyes on him during a set of standing barbell curls, "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing," she remarks, her eyes on the bar as she spots him on his last repetition, "you look different. Skinnier...shorter, kinda."
"Really?" He feigns ignorance, lightheartedness, breathing heavy as he places the weight back on the floor, "All this intense body building and nothing to show for it?"
She tosses her ponytail over her shoulder, bending down to remove fifteen pounds for herself as she continues. "I dunno...It must be," she says, standing with the bar and starting her curls, "my new sneakers...or this little growth spurt I'm having..."
Growth spurt? He watches her easily work through twelve reps, taking the chance to look her over and think. She has been lifting more recently...and looks taller. And her sneakers don't have that much of a heel.
"So, uh...a growth spurt, huh?" he asks, trying to sound nonchalant, disinterested, as they clean the weight off the bar.
"Oh, yeah, recently....kinda weird, huh?" she responds, picking up a dumbbell, "I've started getting a little taller again." Putting one knee up on a bench, leaning over for a set of bent-over rows, she adds cryptically, "A little bigger all over, actually..." Trying to suppress a smile, she feels his gaze dart down her tank top. How predictable. "Why," she asks, "hadn't you noticed?"
"Oh, I, uhhh..." he stammers, caught off guard, yanking his eyes off her chest, "I didn't really-" She catches his eye as she straightens up, done with her set, waiting for him to continue. "I mean, I just thought, with all the workouts, the weight lifting, that..."
"That my boobs would look bigger?"
"uhh...well..."
"No, no, that's okay..." she says, smiling with humor, "they're kinda hard to ignore. As if I needed to get any bigger there...It's going to be hard to convince my mom that I need, like, another set of new bras...and shoes..and pants..."
"Are you saying," he asks, trying to joke with mock wonder, settling into the next, his last, exercise, "that you don't want to go shopping for a new wardrobe?"
"Oh, no, of course not!" she giggles, "Maybe you should come with me!"
Yikes. The images fly through his head. "Oh, yeah," he has to refuse, of course, "that'd be fun...loads."
She laughs, dropping the subject, watching him finish his workout with interest.
Anxious after his shower, after she's gone, Rich measures himself again in his bedroom. Okay, he tells himself, face it. She noticed it herself. You're smaller. Probably an inch since last week. Upset, hoping that they'll be in this Saturday afternoon, he calls his doctor's office - again. He is reminded - again - that they're still waiting for some results from his blood work, that everything else so far looks fine, that he'll be seeing the doctor next week. Still nervous, he paces around the house, alone, until early that evening. She's probably gone out already, he thinks, and I just saw her. But I have to talk to somebody. He calls her.
"Hey Rich," she answers, "What's up?"
"Oh, not too much...how's life?"
"Uhh...Not too different since this morning..." Though their phone conversations had become more frequent, on account of his social life having dwindled and the fact that the sound of her voice is just so goddamn arousing, it is a little unusual for him to call on the same day of their workout.
"Yeah, huh." She heard him take a breath. "Say, Traci, y'know how you said I looked...like...shorter...earlier today?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Well, I, uh...wanted to tell you, just so you'd know. I think I am. Shorter. A little."
"What? What do you mean, shorter?"
"I dunno...I used to be, like, five-eleven and I think I'm down to, about, five-nine." He may be, he thinks, even a bit smaller.
"How...? When..." she sounded troubled, "when did this happen?"
"Oh, I dunno...it's still going on, I think..."
"You mean you're...shrinking?"
"Yeah, I guess..."
"Oh, Rich! Have you seen the doctor again?"
He goes on to discuss the particulars, the battery of tests he's going through, how he's been feeling. She is genuinely concerned, and it's nice to hear a supportive voice. She insists, in fact, to come over the next night and cook him dinner, an offer which he accepts. He's glad, he thinks after hanging up, that he told her, that he has a sympathetic ear. At the same time, however, he's a bit embarrassed to be confiding in a seventeen year-old girl. Whatever...what harm can it do?
In the meantime, she is sitting in her room, alone, thinking. The spell, she muses, it has to be. She’d already figured that her little "growth spurt" was due to it, figuring that he liked his girls tall as well as buxom. Aside from the fact that many of her clothes were beginning to not fit, she didn't really mind; it's always nice to be a little taller. Tall girls always look prettier, right? Get more attention. And she had guessed that he felt the same - but now she knows it.
He must have fantasies about girls being tall - maybe taller than him? Is that why he's been shrinking, she growing? Just a little, so far, in each of their cases - but how long could it go on for? She should be worried, she thinks, but oddly she isn't. Instead she feels a little thrill that the spell has started to work - albeit in an unsuspected way. And to think, she hasn't even used half of the powder. She wanted to talk to Emily about this, but she’s away with her family until early next month. In the meantime, she'd have to keep a careful eye on Rich.
Thinking about him, she blushes to herself. So, he likes his girls big, huh? Tall, big boobs, big hair, she thinks, bringing her hand up to her full head of hair, also getting thicker every day. And, at the same time, him getting smaller, his shrinking must be a manifestation of that. He wants to be shorter, she thinks again, shorter than me. The thought is amusing to her. Maybe that way my boobs look even bigger.
Guys are so funny, she thinks as she smiles and stands, walking towards her closet to choose an outfit for dinner tomorrow night. Catching a look in her full-length mirror along the way, she poses for herself proudly. So funny, she thinks. So, so funny.