Beth Sherman
Zonk!
Excitation
My grandmother once dressed up as a bowl of spaghetti for Let’s Make a Deal. A man who was not my grandfather wore a matching meatball costume.
We were so excited, Nana says. Our mouths hurt from smiling. And they picked us.
On the show, Nana has a 60s bouffant and a hot pink miniskirt. The penne pasta (actually yellow mop strings) hot glued to the cardboard plate jiggle as she claps enthusiastically.
That Monty Hall, Nana says, inching her right foot up her thigh to yoga tree pose and motioning for me to do the same. Such a gentleman. Not like Bob Barker. I heard he was handsy.
Why not do it?
The man with Nana is Jack Rubin, a dental student from Queens. They were supposed to marry the following spring. But her parents disapproved. Nana shows me what he looks like now: Doe eyes. Merry grin. A full head of hair. According to his profile, he has four sons, nine grandchildren and a wife who died of diverticulitis. They’re Facebook friends who rarely comment on each other’s posts.
You should message him, I tell her. On Let’s Make a Deal, his arm curves around her size four waist like a smile. My grandfather’s been dead for five years. In all the time I’ve known them, I never saw them touch.
Uber Trouble
Men are like taxis, Nana says, after my latest relationship ends. There’s always another one right around the corner.
Is there though? What if the last one was the ONE? What if everyone after him is second best? What door do you choose? You can’t possibly know, Nana says. It’s like deciding what to eat for lunch. Some days you’re in the mood for tofu. Other days, it’s chili.
Nonetheless, I obsessively stalk all my exes on their socials. It’s not unhealthy. It’s a way to stay connected.
Big Brain Teaser
Suppose you're on a game show, and you're given the choice of three doors: Behind one door is a car; behind the others, goats. You pick a door, say No. 1, and the host, who knows what's behind all the doors, opens door No. 3, which has a goat. He then says to you, do you want to pick door No. 2? Should you switch your choice? The problem is a paradox because the solution seems too counterintuitive to be true. Mathematically speaking, however, it is advantageous to switch to the new door. You will then have a 66 percent chance of winning a desirable prize.
Which One to Pick?
Nana and Jack Rubin chose door No. 3. (The middle one seemed too obvious, Nana recalls. The first one didn’t feel right). But instead of opening it, Monty Hall showed them door No. 2, which contained 89 boxes of Shake n’ Bake.
A worthless gag gift. A zonk. Nana was right.
Monty, looking dismayed, told them they could switch to door No. 1 if they wanted to. Jack Rubin put his lips to Nana’s ear. If they won enough money, they wouldn’t need her parents’ help. They could elope to Atlantic City, put a downpayment on a house. Nana considers, tells Monty they’ll stick with No. 3. A leggy model opens the door with a flourish to reveal a shaggy moose head. The other door contains a new ’67 Corvette convertible, worth $4,500. Nana squeezes Jack’s hand, determined not to cry. She is younger than I am now.
That Day Again
Nana’s life exhausts me: pickleball, Zumba, Mahjong, a cruise to Portugal, another to Iceland, quilting circles, book groups, volunteering at the cat shelter, singing with The Merry Widows, an a cappella group. I barely have enough energy to make it through work.
On the rare weekend she’s home, we watch the game show again. There’s Monty in his suit and tie. The spaghetti and meatball couple. Beaming. In love. It kills me that your life could change so completely over something not in your control.
You need to contact Jack, I insist. Nana stares at me, puzzled. Why?
We’re at the part when they’re picking the first door.
Nana’s studying the screen intently, watching her younger self, not Jack. Look at that girl, she says. I look. The young Nana is vivacious and enthusiastic. Animated. Hopeful. I see it now. Why Nana never wants to lose her.
Beth Sherman’s writing has been published in more than 100 literary magazines, including Flash Frog, Gone Lawn, Tiny Molecules, 100 Word Story, Fictive Dream, and Bending Genres. Her work is featured in Best Microfiction 2024. She’s also a multiple Pushcart, Best Small Fictions, and Best of the Net nominee. She can be reached on X, Bluesky or Instagram @bsherm36.
