"Sorry, Not Sorry"

I'd consider this contemporary fantasy; you might call it magical realism.

         "You look preoccupied, Mabel," said Eric, Mabel's husband, snapping her out of her brown study. He was smiling, much to her relief--perhaps he hadn't been talking and she shouldn't feel guilty about not listening. But out came an apology anyway.
         "I'm sorry," she said.
         "Don't apologize," he said, wagging his finger, "Nothing to apologize about. Not this time, anyway."
         "You're right," she sighed, "I'm sor--I mean, okay."
         "Penny for your thoughts."
         "Huh?" Mabel asked abstractedly.
         "I mean, what were you thinking about?"
         "Oh, nothing. Just a little nervous about the party."
         Eric chuckled.
         "How do you think I feel?" he said, "It's your family. Maybe I'm more used to them now, but I still feel like a fish out of water."
         "You're right, I'm sorry," she said, then added, "I mean--"
         Her husband jokingly banged an end table with his fist.
         "Really, Mabel, I'm starting to think you need some kind of help with this chronic apologizing thing, and maybe--Hey, did you get taller?"
         "What?"
         She went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He was right; she had grown a few inches taller. Her face was now reflected fully above the crack in the mirror. Did she have some kind of growth spurt overnight?
         "Ah, it's probably nothing," Eric called.
         She stood for a while, still looking in the mirror, then shrugged, walking back into the living room.
         "Books in that white box?" she asked.
         "Yeah, but it's heavy," he said, but she was already handling it. She carried it across the room. Her strength eventually failed her, causing her to accidentally drop the box on her husband's foot.
         "Ow!" he exclaimed, holding his foot and nearly falling over in the process.
         "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"
         "Wait!" Eric stopped her. His eyes grew larger, and suddenly she felt as though she was the first person he'd ever seen.
         "You have grown taller!" he said, "You just grew now, right when you were talking!"
         She grimaced. True, she noticed her range of vision had shifted somewhat, but growing that fast was impossible.
         "I grew when I said I was sorry?"
         "There! It happened again! Look in the mirror now!"
         Mabel practically sprinted to the bathroom. Taking in her reflection, she noticed now that her neck was fully reflected above the crack. She was perhaps a foot taller.What was going on?
         "Sorry," she said, testing the hypothesis. She became a few inches taller yet. She screamed. Eric came running to her.
         "It's okay, it's okay," he said, not sounding very convincing, "This is scary, but we need to find out what it is. Some kind of gene, or...I don't know."
         "A disease," she said, on the verge of tears, "I've got some kind of horrible disease. And now my family is coming over. Damn it!"
         He embraced her tightly, caressing her carroty locks. She was almost his height now, and he was naturally tall.
         "You have to stop apologizing," he soothed her softly, "In the morning, we can see a doctor. There's got to be a logical explanation."
         When someone rang their bell, Mabel broke into a sweat.
         "They're here," she said, rubbing her eyes, "Can you please get it? I'm sorry. Stop! Damn it!"
         She took several deep breaths as her husband went to the door and opened it. The noise began instantly. Her father and mother, her brother and sister, her nieces and nephews. The crowd filtered through the doorway. She adopted a confident smile and met the hug-fest head-on.
         Her mother squinted at her, face wrinkled with age and care.
         "Are you eating enough, dear? You look like you lost a lot of weight."
         "Oh, yes," said Mabel, "I'm on a new diet."
         "She's taller," her father chimed in. He went over to Eric and shook his hand.
         "Hey, pal," said her father, "How you doing? Any idea which diet she's
on?"
         Her husband shook his head and frowned.
         "Happy housewarming, Mabel!" said her sister.
         Mabel's nephews approached her, one with brown curly hair and one with wavy blond hair.
         "Let me guess," she said, still masking her feelings of creeping dread, "Sam and Nick."
         "No, I'm Nick."
         "I'm Sam."
         "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, then bit her tongue. The boys' eyes bugged.
         "Cool!" said one, "How'd you do that? Is that a magic trick?"
         "I saw that!" said her mother, "That's why you look so different; you're using a magic trick to make yourself look taller! Can you show us how you do it?"
         "I'm sorry, no," she said, then rolled her eyes.
         "Mabel..." Eric said quietly.
         "There you go again!" said her father, "How you doin' that?"
         She had to think on her feet.
         "Right," she said, "It's an optical illusion. And a good magician never reveals their tricks."
         There was an awkward silence as everyone sized her up. She glanced over at Eric.
         "Uh-uh," he stammered, "Come into the kitchen! Pizza came just fifteen minutes ago. It might be a little cool."
         They entered the kitchen en masse. Mabel was still getting used to her new height. She felt somewhat disoriented.
         Her mother was trying to serve the nephews some slices, but her palsy got in the way.
         "Here, Mom," Mabel said, taking it. She was so nervous she dropped a piece on the floor.
         "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!"
         She was now easily eight feet tall. The family screamed collectively, save for the nephews.
         "Cool!" said the nephews.
         "We have to go," she said, "We have to go. We have to go now."
         She grabbed her husband by the arm and led him out of the house. He peeked around the corner.
         "Sorry, folks!" he said.
         "Don't you go apologizing now!" Mabel warned.
         The health clinic was only two miles from their house. Thankfully, Eric noted, he drove a convertible. She couldn't sit still; she felt as though she were sitting in a chair for kiddies. He drove exactly the speed limit as posted, knowing that, if they got pulled over, nothing could save Mabel from the barrage of apologies that would erupt from her mouth.
         They phoned Dr. Weems on the way there. He and Eric had gone to college together, and since the former wasn't busy, he was glad to see him and his wife on such short notice.
         "Holy Jesus!" was Weems' first phrase upon their greeting. "Well, you were right to come to me. There are strange medical cases out there, not all of them understood. You say this happens every time you apologize, Mabel?"
         She nodded quietly.
         "I'll tell you what: Let's run a few tests. First I'll take a sample of your blood, then your saliva. We'll get this thing cinched."
         And so began the testing, not all of which either Mabel or Eric understood. Every test imaginable, for every disease possible. But even the doctor had to admit that what they were dealing with was far from possible. Eventually, he floated the hypothesis that she had some kind of mutant gene that was just expressing itself now, but even he didn't believe that. He tried to persuade her into taking more tests under the observation of his brainier doctor friends, but she refused, apologizing again.
         "That was a waste," Mabel said, weeping now, "What am I gonna do?"
         They passed a billboard. On it was a picture of a man with long dark hair seated behind a crystal ball. The smoky letters spelled LIONEL HUTCH, NEW AGE MYSTIC AND UNIVERSAL SHAMAN.
         "There," Mabel said, directing her husband's line of sight to the billboard.
         "Mabel..."
         "Eric! That doctor gave us nothing! If you can believe that I'm growing like this, you should be able to believe in magic. Please, take the exit."
         He did as he was bidden.
         They arrived at the New Age shop. The air inside was thick with incense, and figurines of bygone gods and goddesses were everywhere.
         After waiting a half hour or so, Lionel the mystic led them into a room.
         Mabel went over her story as she had with Dr. Weems.
         "A self-induced curse!" said Lionel, "I've seen such a thing in a past life. A woman who became thinner the more she ate. This is a curse you must break, before it is too late."
         "How do I do that?" she asked desperately, "Apologize for apologizing so much? Some kind of counter-spell?"
         Eric rolled his eyes.
         "No," said the mystic, "To rid yourself of this curse, you must consume some very specific nourishment."
         "Which is?"
         "Turtle eggs, a chicken's beak, a scorpion's tail, pig entrails, and a healthy dose of guano. Wash it down with your own natural water."
         "Natural water?" Mabel repeated, thinking she misheard him.
         "Your urine," he specified, "You'll have to drink about a gallon. I can give you my recipe for the food."
         "No, no, no," she said, and was again leading her husband out by the arm.
         Mabel sat on the front of the convertible, watching the sunset. Eric joined her.
         "You know I love you, Mabel, right?"
         "I love you too, Eric."
         "We'll lick this thing sooner or later. It's just a matter of time. Maybe we just need a therapist. Someone who can teach you that you don't need to apologize for everything."
         They sat in silence for several minutes.
         Suddenly, Mabel perked up, a solution of sorts molded perfectly in her mind.
         "Eric," she said, smiling at him, "I really do love you. But I have to do what's best for me now. The only thing I can do now."
         He looked at her hopefully, then quizzically.
         "What's that?"
         More silence. She slid off the front of the car.
         "This. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry..."
         Eric screamed hoarsely. Mabel was fast approaching 20 feet tall, then passing it. Eric took the car home, traumatized. What would happen to her now? Would the military shoot her down as she climbed a building? Would she trip and fall to her death like the giant that Jack slayed? But somehow, he understood.
         Now Mabel stands at 80 feet tall. She coerced workers into building her a fortress in the wilderness. When she is hungry or thirsty, she takes. Whatever she wants is hers. Perhaps one day she'll even visit Eric and her family again, but one thing is certain: She is through with apologizing to anyone.