More Stories from the Twilight Zone by Carol Serling Page A

under their marriage weight, and he seldom drank anymore. His work took him around the world on business trips and for years Candy had gone with him on many of the trips.
    But then, three years ago, it all changed and changed suddenly. She started drinking and eating and quickly grew tired of the traveling as well, deciding instead to simply stay at home and indulge herself.
    At one point, a year ago, he had begged her to go to counseling with him and she had shrugged and gone along. But in the sessions it quickly became clear she was never going to stop either overeating or drinking. She just didn’t seem to see why she should.
    When the counselor finally got her to tell him why, clearly, so that he, the counselor, could understand her, she had simply said, “Why not?”
    â€œI
still
don’t understand,” the counselor had said.
    Candy had looked at him with disgust, then said simply, “You haven’t heard? The world is ending December 21, 2012. So why shouldn’t I enjoy this last year?”
    Since that point, Elliot and Candy had argued many, many times over her belief. He had kept asking her what if she was wrong, what then? She had flatly said time and time again that she wasn’t wrong.
    He had demanded over and over for her to explain how she could be so certain.
    â€œThe Mayan calendar is ending on that date,” she always said, as if that explained everything. “I just know my life, your life, will end that day. I can feel it.”
    Now, as he unpacked from his last trip, she sat in his bedroom on his dressing chair.
    â€œTomorrow’s the big day,” Candy said between bites of the maple bar and sips of the vodka-tonic. A large smear of chocolatestreaked her cheek, but she didn’t seem to care. She hadn’t been out of her bathrobe in weeks, and he doubted from her sour smell that she had even taken a shower in that amount of time either. He had been in Europe the last two weeks and had only gotten home a few hours ago.
    â€œSo,” Elliot asked, repeating a question he had asked every time she said something about her insanity, “what happens if the world doesn’t end tomorrow?”
    â€œOh, it will,” she said before taking a huge bite of the maple bar, chewing twice, then washing it down with a large gulp of vodka.
    Elliot just shook his head. How could a woman he had loved so deeply, still loved, actually, gone so far off track? He had read a dozen books about insanity and nothing about Candy’s seemed to even fit a pattern. He could even remember the night it had started. Back in 2009 she had come to bed late after watching a History Channel special on how the world was supposed to end on December 21, 2012, the last day of the Mayan calendar. She was both excited and agitated at the idea, and he had listened only halfheartedly to what she said that night.
    Over the next few weeks after that, she never stopped talking about the topic, even on a trip together to London, one of her favorite cities. At one point she had stood looking up at Big Ben and asked, “Isn’t it a shame that all of this will be gone in three years?”
    He had changed the subject, hating even talking about predictions of any future. That was for those crazies who believed in that mumbo-jumbo. He was a believer in right now. The present. Today. The future would be what the future would be. And Candy, up until that point, had been as down-to-earth as he was.
    Not anymore. She was as crazy as they came.
    He turned from his unpacking and looked at the mess of a human being his wife had become. “I guess tomorrow we shall see, won’t we?”
    â€œThat we will,” she said, smiling. “I plan on spending the day on the deck, watching the world end over the ocean. Would you like to join me?”
    â€œThank you, dear,” he said, turning back to his now almost empty suitcase on the bed so that she wouldn’t notice how disgusted at