by Jason Purdy
“Sleep it off,” Alex said. “I’ll crash on the sofa.”
She sat up in the bed. She was wearing one of his old t-shirts, and that was when he noticed her pile of clothes on the floor beside the bed. He didn’t know what to do. He’d never had a girl in his bed before, and if push came to shove, he doubted that his equipment was still working the way it was supposed to.
“Hop in,” she said, patting the bed beside him.
“No,” Alex said. “I don’t want to…” he trailed off. “You’re drunk…”
“I don’t want to fuck you, Alex,” she said.
Alex grimaced.
“I know,” he said. “But you don’t have to be so blunt.”
She shrugged.
“Two people can lie in a bed together without having sex. Trust me; my parents have been doing it for nearly ten years now.”
Alex closed the door behind him, putting them into almost total darkness. He felt his way around to the other side, and kicked off his shoes, and his jeans, climbing in. Kate settled down into the covers, and turned her back to him. Alex turned his back to her, so they lay bum to bum, like opposite apostrophes.
“No,” she said. “Roll over, spoon me, haven’t you ever…”
She trailed off.
“Just come here,” she said. “Hold me for a while.”
Alex awkwardly rolled over, and slid one arm underneath her, one arm around her stomach. He could feel her bare legs against his. He couldn’t help but imagine her wearing nothing but panties down below.
“Don’t poke me with that,” she said.
“Sorry,” Alex said. Well that was that question answered.
“No, it’s…” Kate trailed off, and started to sob.
“I kind of wish I could trade places with you,” she said.
“Do you want to swap sides?” Alex asked, dumbly.
“No you fucking…” she said, and let out a heavy, wet sigh. “I wish I was dying, I mean.”
“That’s fucked up, Kate,” Alex said. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Not even Paul.”
“I know,” she said. “But I can’t cope. Nothing works, nothing ever changes. The pills, getting more sunshine, exercising, the therapists… it never seems to change how I feel. Even when I’m laughing, it’s feels like there’s a rope around my neck.”
“Kate,” Alex said. “Come on…”
“It’s like I’m standing on top of the chair,” she said. “It’s wobbling. One good kick and I’m gone.”
She makes the sound of a neck snapping.
“Today is helping,” she said. “You and Paul, even Stephen, are helping. But I can’t help but feel that by tomorrow evening, it’ll be the same as always. I can’t face my family. Not after my note. What do I do?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Alex didn’t have a reply, he held her tighter, pressing his face into her hair.
She rolled over, turning to face him. He could see her eyes shining, even in the darkness of the room.
He put his hand on the back of her head, and pulled her in. They kissed, briefly. Their lips barely touched. Her tongue darted into his mouth, and he returned the favour. Her body was warm and soft against his.
He had always imagined it, but it had never been like this. He’d never thought of the little things. The smell of the girl’s hair, the softness of her lips. The feeling of her hands in your hair, of her pulling you closer to her.
She pulled away.
“What do I do, Alex?” she said.
“Keep wobbling,” he said. “We’re all balancing Kate. Some of us are just standing on better furniture.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she said slowly.
“I think it does,” Alex replied. “Do me a favour; think about that after I’m gone. Not about the virginity thing. Not about how I died as a level twenty seven and a half wizard who kissed like a dead fish.”
“You saved two lives, as well,” she said, smiling at him in the darkness.
“Is that a promise?” Alex said.
“And you don’t kiss like a dead fish,” she said, changing the subject. “You’re a natural.”
“Really?” he said.
“You bet.”
“Can I kiss you again then?” he said.
“Don’t ask,” she replied.
He kissed her again.
6:20:01
Paul wakes up to Stephen staring deep into his eyes, lying on his bed. He was still kneeling by the bed.
“Fuck,” he said, rolling away, halfway between drunk and hungover. “Don’t do that.”
“Sorry,” Stephen said. “I’m bored. I can’t sleep.”
He said it in a mock, childish whine.
“Poor you,” Paul said, and he curled up in a ball, and began to pass out once more.
“Come on,” Stephen said, jabbing him with a bony finger. “Wake up, I want to talk.”
“Why?” Paul said.
“Because in six hours I’ll be out of this body and back home, and I don’t want to spend the last of my day watching you all sleep.”
“Out of this body?” Paul said, suddenly interested. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“Yep, and back home,” he said.
“So what are you?” Paul said. “Are you a ghost, like in The Muppets Christmas Carol?”
“I’m sure you know there was a novel and several other Christmas Carol films before that one, right?” Stephen said. “Actually, don’t answer that. I also don’t want to waste time weeping for humanity.”
Paul shrugged.
“So,” he said. “A ghost, or what?”
“Or what,” Stephen said.
“So when Stephen is at home, with his slippers on,” Paul said. “What is he?”
“I’m me,” Stephen said. “Well, something like me. I don’t look like this. I look like I did back when I was alive.”
“Can you show me?” Paul said.
“Honestly,” he replied. “I’ve already told you all too much today. I’m going to be in big trouble when I get back. I just needed to spend some time with people. I was sick of being the otherworldly being with the rulebook. I just wanted to hang out with some humans and have some fun.”
“I thought this was all about Alex,” Paul said.
“It was, but why do you think I picked him?” Stephen replied.
“I thought it was random,” Paul said.
“It was,” Stephen replied. “But nothing is ever really random, is it?”
“I can’t handle this conversation right now,” Stephen said, lying back on the floor, covering his face. “I’m too hrunk. Too drungover.”
“Yeah, it’s a bit of a heavy topic for three in the morning, isn’t it?” Stephen said.
Paul nodded slowly.
“Alex mentioned you had a file on him,” he said quietly.
“Of course he did,” Stephen said.
“Does it cover every moment of his life?” Paul said. “Like, birthdays, that time he won two grand on a scratch card, almost drowning at seven, and the fire that Chris died in, all that stuff?” Paul said.
“All the way up until his original death,” Stephen said.
“Original death”? Paul said, sitting up again. “What do you mean?”
“Oh shit,” Stephen said. “Shouldn’t have told you that. Now I’m really in trouble…”
He looked genuinely concerned.
“Well,” Paul said. “If you’re already in the shit, then spill the beans.”
Stephen sighed.
“You’re not as stupid as you like people to think you are, Paul,” Stephen said.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he replied. “Original death. What do you mean?”
“I guess…” Stephen said. “I can’t think of how to put it in a way you would understand.”
“Try me.”
“Okay, okay,” Stephen said. “Imagine you’ve got a meeting at four in the afternoon. You’re driving back to work after a late lunc
h, and your car breaks down. You’re not going to make it back to the meeting, and you don’t have your phone on you.”
“You’re making my palms sweat,” Paul said.
“So you don’t show up,” Stephen said, “but just because you’re not going doesn’t mean the meeting doesn’t stop, unless you cancel it. It’ll go ahead whether you’re there or not.”
“Unless you’re the one giving the presentation,” Paul said. “Then they all just sit around drinking coffee and cursing your existence.”
“Forget about that,” Stephen said, “it’s just a metaphor. For Alex’s original death, do you follow me?”
“So,” Paul said. “Alex had a way he was to die. That was all outlined in his file. Now it’s changed, but what about the original death then? Isn’t there like, some kind of butterfly effect to that?”
Stephen shrugged.
“Time doesn’t really work the way you all think it does,” he said. “There’s a plan outlined, but it’s not a novel, more like a rough draft of a film script. There are beats that have to happen, but they’re malleable. The timeline will shift to accommodate changes in it.”
“Does that mean Kate and Edgar will die anyway?” Paul said, in a small voice.
He really liked Kate. More than he usually liked the girls he spent time with. He wanted to take Kate out for dinner and have picnics with her. He wanted to watch Netflix with her, but not as an excuse to make a move on her, just to spend time with her. To hold her and watch rubbish telly together.
“Edgar is going to die in about two weeks,” Stephen said. “But that’s nothing to do with Alex. That was the plan originally, until the fire. There’s a huge window of error in all of this, it’s why we don’t usually put too much stock in timelines. If Alex’s file said that he died in a car accident where three people die, you don’t know if that means he was driving, or was a pedestrian, or on a bus. Was he at fault or was he a victim, who knows?”
“Is that what was originally to happen?” Paul said.
“Yeah,” Stephen said. “But we can also pull out from the file that Alex became a raging alcoholic, estranged from his daughter and wife, so you can sometimes try to put the pieces together like that.”
He shrugged.
“Fuck,” Paul said. “You don’t think…”
“Like I said,” Stephen said. “I don’t put much stock in timelines.”
“So does that mean Alex was chosen?” Paul said. “To save those other people by taking him now?”
“It doesn’t mean jack shit,” Stephen said, sighing. “Look, there’s no great plan, like I said, it was a clerical error. Too many people dying one day, not enough the next. We’ve got to pick someone, there’s a quota to fill.”
Paul flopped back on the bed.
“I just had a thought,” he said. “I don’t know if I can handle it. This is so messed up.”
“Try not to think about it,” Stephen said.
“How can I not?” Paul said. “You just told me that there’s a cosmic plan for everyone.”
“Isn’t that comforting?” Stephen said. “I thought it was comforting.”
“It’s terrifying,” Paul said.
“You can always change it,” Stephen said. “Like I said, it’s not set in stone. The last twenty four hours have been proof of that. Think of all the lives that have changed because Alex is dying now and not in thirty years.”
“I suppose,” Paul said.
“Maybe things will be better, maybe they’ll be worse,” Stephen said. “But that’s the beauty of life. Every basketball game ends with a win, a loss, or a draw. But how do you get to those three results? There’s an infinite number of possibilities. Underdogs win? Coby Bryant breaks an ankle? Asteroid smashes into the arena, killing everyone?”
Stephen shrugged again.
“It’s thrilling!”
“Why basketball?” Paul asked.
“It’s my favourite sport,” Stephen said.
“Okay,” Paul said. “I think I get it now. Maybe it is comforting… but I’ve got one question. You said Alex had a daughter in his original death…”
“That’s right.”
“If he dies now,” Paul said. “What the fuck happens to her? Does she just not exist? That seems profoundly fucked up, if that’s the case.”
Stephen laughed.
“No,” he said. “Don’t be silly. She’s just born somewhere else. It’s simple.”
“What?”
5:50:05
Stephen was the only one left awake, for the most part. Kate was asleep, and Alex was spooning her, lying there with his eyes closed. He couldn’t sleep any more, but he wouldn’t want to anyway.
Paul was passed out again, as was Edgar. Hamish and the pizza guy were still there. Alex hadn’t said a word to either of them all night, but they were still game for a party. Stephen respected that, and dropped them off in their own beds without waking them up.
He knew where they lived. He knew where everyone lived, really. He was like Santa, but without the weight problems. He also tended to prefer it if you were naught rather than nice, because that was a hell of a lot more fun.
He approached Edgar, who was slumped on the sofa, sprawled out like he had found the comfiest place to sleep on the planet.
Stephen didn’t want to think about the kind of aches the poor old bugger would have when he woke up, not only from his hangover, but from lying slumped over a sofa at that age.
He went to touch Edgar, to spirit him away to his now burnt down house, when the old man woke up.
“Don’t you dare magic me away,” he said. “You no good demon.”
“Not a demon,” Stephen said, sitting on the sofa beside him. “We’ve been through this, Edgar.”
The old coot waved his hand in the air. The specifics didn’t really matter.
“An angel then? A wizard? Some sort of vampire poof?”
“Am I going to need to give you a list of words you’re not allowed to use any more?” Stephen said.
Edgar shook his head.
“I thought I was dead,” he said. “I thought the fire was it. I thought it would just engulf me, and that would be it. A life well lived, over in a blast of flames.”
“Well,” Stephen said. “You would have melted for a while. Don’t forget the screaming in agony part, too.”
“Either way,” Edgar said. “It would have been good. Right after the snooker was over. Perfect timing.”
“Isn’t there a single person on this planet that actually wants to live?” Stephen said.
Edgar let himself be helped to his feet, groaning as he rose.
“That Paul fella seems pretty happy,” Edgar said. “Maybe too happy. He might be a fruit.”
“Edgar.”
“I’m too old to be politically correct,” he said.
“Fair enough,” Stephen said. “At least let me give you a lift home.”
“Don’t be whisking me away,” Edgar said, waving a finger at him. “I’m perfectly capable of walking. It’s going to be a lovely day, and I haven’t been hungover since World War 2 ended. I’m not planning on starting now.”
“Safe home,” Stephen said. “You crazy old fart.”
“Blow it out your arse,” he said shaking Stephen’s hand. “You’re not like the yanks I fought with. You’re not so bad.”
“High praise indeed,” Stephen said.
“Tell Alex I said… good luck,” Edgar said. “And thanks too, I suppose.”
“You can tell him yourself, soon enough,” Stephen said.
Edgar gave him a long, considered look.
“That soon, eh?” he said.
“I can tell,” Stephen said. “Same way as your knees ache when there’s rain on the way.”
“I suppose you usually keep that information to yourself,” Edgar said.
Stephen nodded sagely.
“Not many can handle it,” he said.
“How long?” Edgar said.
“I can’t
say,” Stephen said. “Against the rules.”
“I get the feeling you don’t give a flying fuck about the rules, sunshine,” Edgar said. “Based on tonight’s whole affair, anyway.”
Stephen mimes zipping his lips.
“Tell me,” Edgar said. “Tell me you lanky fucker.”
“Fine,” Stephen said, sighing. “Two weeks, at the most.”
“Long enough,” Edgar said. “Must get another trip to Thailand booked post-haste. See you on the other side.”
He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.
“Wear protection,” Stephen said after him.
“Why?” Edgar said. “I’m dying in two bloody weeks!”
He slammed the door behind him. Stephen put his head in his hands, and flexed his knees, up and down, doing a half assed squat.
“They’re just humans,” he said quietly. “They’re just…”
He sat down heavily on the sofa.
“It’ll be over soon,” he said.
5:03:05
Paul always struggled to sleep when he was hungover. He woke up shortly after Edgar left, feeling like he had eaten three bags of sand and then spent four hours in a washing machine.
When he was hungover, he liked to watch cartoons. He filled a mixing bowl with crunchy nut clusters and milk, and sat down cross legged in front of the telly.
He put on Netflix and started scrolling through the range of kids shows on display. He had seen almost all of them, due to a life style that led to being hungover more often than he wasn’t.
He didn’t mind. It was all fun. It was all one big adventure. He settled on something and began to munch his cereal.
Alex entered the room quietly behind him, and sat beside him on the floor.
They watched cartoons in silence together for a while. Paul offered the bowl to Alex, but he shook his head. That was when Paul noticed the condition of his friend.
Alex’s skin looked like it was glued loosely to his body. It was almost entirely translucent. His lips were purple; his hair seemed to be draining of colour.
His usually chunky arms were skinny. They looked like bony rakes. Paul imagined that if he lifted up his friend’s t-shirt, he’d see right through him. Like a burger wrapper covered in grease.
