Too Good for this World

by LK Chapman

  ‘Gennie, no,’ he said, ‘it’s not like that. I don’t mean the violence is good, I mean the… the unity, the togetherness…’

  Imogen turned away from him and rubbed tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

  2015

  The next morning when she was about to leave for work, Imogen almost tripped over a newspaper that had been placed outside her bedroom door. For a moment Imogen thought her mum had been going through the lonely hearts columns and she felt angry. She’d argued with her mum most of the previous evening, coming up with every reason under the sun why she couldn’t possibly contemplate starting a relationship with anyone else while her mum countered with all the reasons why she could and should. Imogen was tempted to throw the newspaper away without looking at it, when she noticed that what had been ringed in red biro was not anything to do with dating. It was a job advert- one of the local schools was looking for a new English teacher.

  Imogen sagged against the wall in the landing and stared at the advert. It made her feel all sorts of conflicted emotions- fear, sadness, excitement, hope. She worked now in the same café where she had had a Saturday job as a teenager, just like she now lived at home with her mum as she had done as a teenager, as though becoming a widow at twenty-eight had made her regress back to childhood. She threw the newspaper into her bedroom and closed the door. She’d look at it later. Or maybe she wouldn’t.

  2012

  ‘We should go for it,’ Jonny said, ‘we should do it now. There’s no reason to wait any longer.’ He was talking about a book he’d just read. A book about some guy who’d gone off to live in the woods, and was apparently having a great time.

  ‘We’ve got jobs,’ Imogen said. She was cooking spaghetti Bolognese in the little kitchen in their flat, while Jonny was “helping”, slicing vegetables distractedly while he talked with his eyes intense and wild, his hands moving rapidly. ‘Everything I’ve read,’ he said, ‘it makes sense. People aren’t designed to live in the world the way it is. We’re designed to survive- to cope with immediate dangers and needs. You’re always saying you’re stressed out. It’s because the world makes you like that- all these every day worries dragging you down. We have to pare everything back… pare everything back so that all that matters is staying alive and getting from one day to the next, and our feelings can be raw and true and immediate-’

  ‘Jonny, I don’t know if I could live in the wild,’ Imogen said. She was tired, and hungry, and she just wanted to eat. ‘I don’t know how to live like that, not really. I know we’ve sort of tried it for short periods, on holidays and things, but that’s not the same as doing it all the time. And there isn’t really wilderness in England. Not like you’re talking about. Do you mean for us to move to a different country, away from all our family and friends?’ She thought for a while and something else occurred to her. ‘What about when we have children-’ she started.

  ‘It’ll be better for children.’

  ‘But… what about schools?’

  ‘You’re a teacher,’ Jonny said, ‘you could teach them.’

  Imogen shook her head. ‘I’m an English teacher,’ she said, ‘what if our children wanted to go to university to do a different subject? I can’t teach them to a level where they’d be accepted on their course, especially not if they want to do maths or science or something. And children need social skills as well. They can’t learn all that from us, they need to learn it from being with other children and being involved with the world.’

  Jonny sliced celery with frenzied abandon. ‘On the news the other day they were talking about what percentage of teenagers had thought about committing suicide, and it was… it was… well, I can’t remember the numbers. But it was too high, Imogen! It was far too high. Children are under way too much pressure nowadays. The world isn’t right for children. In fact… I’d rather… I’d rather not have them at all than bring them into a fucked up world like this.’

  Imogen stopped cooking and hugged him. ‘Jonny,’ she said, ‘don’t get upset. If we decide to go and live somewhere else we don’t want it to be because we’re running away. We want it to be because we believe we’ll be happy.’

  2015

  The day in the café passed in a haze. When Imogen stumbled outside after her shift was over she struggled to remember what had happened while she had been there. She took out her phone, and to her surprise it was open on the website of the school where the teaching job was being advertised. She made her way over to a bench and sat staring at the screen. It didn’t make any sense. She hadn’t looked up the school on her phone, and why would anyone else have done? As quickly as she asked that question she realised the answer. It must have been her mum.

  Back at home Imogen turned on her laptop. She thought she might have a closer look at the school and the job, but before she could type in a search the school’s website opened on the screen in front of her. Her skin prickled. She looked around her, behind her. She was alone in the house. Her mum was still at work and wouldn’t be home for another hour or so yet. Imogen looked at the page- which was boasting the school’s facilities, with a picture of a shiny new block that had recently been built to house several state-of-the-art classrooms. Her skin prickled again. How had it opened before she’d even told it to? She was about to close the website again when a message flashed up on the screen, so briefly she wasn’t sure if she’d really seen it. A black screen with white words across it, a short sentence, all in capitals. YOU WERE A GREAT TEACHER.

  2011

  Jonny had always admired her being a teacher. One evening after he’d had a tough day at work he came home and said to her, ‘maybe I should do what you do.’

  ‘Really?’ she asked. He’d never mentioned it before.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘you’re an inspiration. What you do in one day is better than anything I’ve done my entire life.’

  Imogen laughed. ‘Jonny, you can’t be serious!’ she said, ‘you help to run campaigns for a homeless charity. I just get kids to read things they don’t want to read and then make them write about it.’

  He put his arms around her. ‘You shouldn’t do yourself down,’ he said, ‘working with kids is really important. More important than what I’m doing.’

  ‘What do you mean? How could what you do not be important?’

  He frowned, and she could sense he was agitated that she wasn’t understanding his meaning more quickly. ‘What I do doesn’t change anything,’ he said, ‘never as much as I want. And I’m just working in one tiny area of all the problems there are in the world, I mean… there’s just so much shit that goes on. Every day, just so much shit.’

  By the end of the sentence his voice was raised and Imogen felt a little scared. ‘Jonny,’ she said, ‘it’s alright.’ She tried to touch him but he moved out of the way. ‘It’s not alright,’ he said, ‘I feel like… I feel like there is just this tidal wave of crap going on all the time, everywhere, and it’s like everyone is inside this glass house and I can see them and hear them and I’m banging on the window trying to get them to listen to me before they’re swallowed up by it, but they won’t. They just won’t.’

  2015

  Imogen could hardly sleep that night for remembering the message she thought she’d seen. You were a great teacher. It had the ring of Jonny about it. She knew she couldn’t really have seen it. She was still shaken by the argument she’d had with her mum the day before about the dating website, and then the job opportunity had come up and thrown her even more. That was all it was. With everything that had been going on she could hardly blame herself for imagining things.

  She finally began to drift off around two a.m. As her thoughts became less and less lucid, she thought she could hear a voice; a quiet, gentle voice that lulled her into sleep. It was saying, Istillloveyougenniestillloveyougenniestillloveyougennie.

  2014

  Affrayed had been made, originally made, in any case, by a company called DAWN Industries. Imogen knew this because she’d re
ad and heard all about it after the suicide pact that was responsible for Jonny’s death. Apparently the game had been “hijacked”, and its creators, Nick Winterbourne and Dan Avery had been “victims” in the whole thing too. What nobody seemed to know was how or why the game had been taken over, and just as mysterious, why every copy of it had now disappeared as though it had never existed at all. On the first anniversary of Jonny’s suicide, she emailed DAWN Industries, her mood dark and dangerous.

  Dear Nick and Dan, I want you to know that my husband was one of the people who killed himself after getting obsessed with your game. I know it apparently wasn’t your game, but I don’t care. If it hadn’t existed my husband would still be here. He was the love of my life. Now that he’s gone I wish I was dead too. I hope that you can live with that. Imogen.

  After she’d sent it she felt worse. She thought it would vent some of her bitterness, but it deepened it. It was like her mum said about karma. Putting badness and sadness and blame into the world only made it come back and bite you. When she saw that there was a reply from DAWN Industries later that day, she almost didn’t want to see what it said.

  Dear Imogen. We understand how angry you must feel. Reading your email has saddened us more than we can say. I don’t know what we could possibly tell you that would make things any better, but if you want to ask us anything about the game or what happened we will do our very best to answer you. If it would be easier for you to speak to us in person or for one of us to call you, don’t hesitate to ask. We know how inadequate it sounds to say that we are sorry, but we truly are. This should never have happened. Nick & Dan.

  Long into the night she toyed with the idea of meeting one or both of them, or asking them to call her. By the morning she decided it made no difference. The game wasn’t theirs anyway, and no matter what she did, Jonny would still be dead.

  2013

  One night when he was playing Affrayed, Imogen was surprised when Jonny stopped uncharacteristically early in the evening and came over and grabbed her. ‘I love you,’ he said, ‘I love you, I love you.’ He pressed his forehead against hers. He looked as though he might start to cry.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked, ‘did something happen in Affrayed?’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘and yes. It… my mind…’

  Imogen put her arms around him. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, ‘you can tell me.’

  ‘I wish that you could see it too.’

  ‘See what?’

  He wandered off without answering. Imogen sat down on the sofa, perplexed and saddened. He’d always been able to tell her everything before. What could be happening to him in that game that was so unusual he couldn’t even find the words to talk to her about it?

  2015

  Imogen woke the next morning feeling unusually optimistic. She opened the application form for the teaching job, and took her laptop downstairs to make a start on it in the kitchen before work. When her mum saw what she was doing, she practically cooed with delight.

  ‘I’m so proud of you,’ her mum said, ‘I knew something had changed. I did a reading last night, and everything is looking better for us, Gennie, everything!’

  Imogen smiled. Her mum’s tarot reading was neither here nor there as far as she was concerned, although she couldn’t help but feel a little bit of extra warmth, and hope. The world was on her side. She kept thinking that as she filled in the form. The world was on her side. Jonny was on her side.

  It didn’t last. She thought her mum understood her feelings, but no doubt encouraged by her damn cards, later that day she told Imogen she had found her a “date”.

  ‘You…’ Imogen said, ‘you what?’

  ‘My friend Zara’s son. He’s just got back from doing some voluntary work in-’

  ‘No,’ Imogen said, strongly and firmly.

  Her mum wouldn’t back down. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, ‘Zara and River both know your circumstances-’

  ‘River?’ Imogen said, ‘his name is River?’

  ‘Yes, I think he could be just your-’

  ‘No!’ Imogen said.

  2013

  Jonny had often talked about transcendence.

  ‘That’s why Affrayed is so good,’ he said, ‘because you’re out of yourself, above yourself.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘People… people hate focusing on themselves. When are we most happy? When we’re absorbed in something. And when are we even happier than that? When we’re part of something bigger. When you’re looking at the most beautiful, awe-inspiring sight, or you’re with people who really, really understand you- when you’re so together, so united, so much larger than yourself. Affrayed makes me feel that way so often.’

  ‘Do I make you feel that way?’

  Jonny kissed her. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but we’re only two people. I’m talking about the whole world!’

  Imogen laughed. ‘You and the “whole world” Jonny,’ she said. ‘Honestly. You’re only one man.’

  2015

  Her mum simply didn’t seem able to understand what she’d done wrong by arranging the date with River. Imogen shut herself away in her room, and hoped she would get the teaching job just so that she could afford to move out and get away from her mum’s meddling. She knew that no one understood how to help her, and that was fair enough. She also knew that it would make other people’s lives easier if she started seeing someone else. She saw the looks her friends gave her, these awful, pitying looks that were filled with fear. She knew they were all hoping like hell that what had happened to Imogen would never happen to them. Her grief and loss was offensive to them. They’d never say it, but she knew it. She reminded them of their worst nightmares, and they resented her for it.

  Imogen took out the suicide note and thought about how her life should have been. She’d never even slept with anyone else except Jonny. She’d thought he would be her first and her last, that he would be the only man to ever know her and she the only woman to know him. Aside from her ongoing love for Jonny holding her back, the thought of the intimacy that would be expected of her if she started dating was terrifying. In her head none of her new prospective suitors were like Jonny. She imagined herself being pressured, being laughed at for only having slept with one man. In her darkest moments, she wondered if she was actually any good at sex. She only knew what she and Jonny liked, and neither she nor he had anything to compare that to. They’d always had a lot of fun together, but for all she knew, other men might want things completely different. She might not have a clue what she was doing and end up feeling ridiculous. In a rush of anger she screwed the note up in her hand. ‘Why did you do this to me Jonny?’ she said, ‘why did you leave me on my own, you… you selfish fucking bastard.’

  She dropped the screwed up picture and clapped her hand over her mouth, but quickly released it again to say, ‘I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry Jonny, I’m sorry.’ She picked up the picture and tried to straighten it out, but she was distracted when her laptop, which had been asleep or on standby or something, suddenly lit up. She frowned at it, confused, and then the screen went black again. But it wasn’t empty. There was a message, written in white.

  I’m sorry

  Imogen almost cried out. The words hadn’t disappeared again, like the ones about her being a great teacher. They were still there, plain as day, white on black and with the cursor flashing just underneath.

  Jonny? She typed.

  2013

  ‘Something spoke to me,’ Jonny said shakily.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘A voice, in my head.’

  Imogen nearly crashed the car. She told him to wait for a second before he said anything further, and she parked at the side of the road, taking a moment to try to calm down.

  ‘A voice?’ she asked eventually, trying to keep the tremor from her own words.

  ‘It told me not to be afraid,’ he said, ‘that I didn’t need to be afraid about the future
, because there would be a new future.’

  Imogen’s heart was racing. Something was wrong here. Seriously wrong. That much was obvious now. Jonny had always been intense, but now he was ill. He had to be ill.

  ‘When you say you heard a voice,’ she asked carefully, ‘what do you mean? You don’t mean your own thoughts?’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘it was a voice. A voice I hadn’t heard before. It was a weird voice. It sounded a bit like something from a film, like, computer engineered.’ He looked at her. ‘Gennie, I know what this sounds like. But you love me and you have to believe me. The voice was to do with Affrayed.’

  ‘No!’ Imogen shouted, slamming her hand against the steering wheel.

  2015

  Instead of receiving an answer, Imogen watched helplessly as her laptop went back to its dormant state, and the message was gone. Her heart was racing. It had been Jonny. It had to have been.

  Every night for the next week, Imogen made sure her laptop was on, and then sat next to it talking to Jonny’s suicide note. She managed to get out of the date with River, much to her mum’s disappointment, and spent all of her free time alone in her room, though no further mysterious messages appeared.

  ‘Jonny,’ she pleaded with the picture, ‘talk to me again, Jonny, please.’

  She hadn’t realised that her door was ajar, and her mum must have been walking past and heard her talking. Before Imogen could try to hide what she was doing her mum had come into her room and was standing by her side. Imogen tried to think of an explanation. She knew her mum must have overheard what she had been saying.