There was a long, uncertain silence.
“Minnie,” she replied, her voice shaking again. She was about to go any second.
“Are you scared to talk to me?” asked Charlie, as tenderly as he could manage. “You don’t have to be. Talk to me. What’s your surname? You might as well get used to talking to me you know, as we need to talk to sort this all out, yeah? Come on. What’s your surname?”
“I don’t…I don’t like to…” the tears were coming again, and Charlie knew he needed to stop this fast before she lost it.
“It’s okay, have a second—“ he began, but she cut him off, her voice rising.
“If I talk to you…it’ll get worse…I think it’s finally happening, I think it’s finally happened and you’re not real and I’m going cra-ha-ha-haaaAAAAAAA-“ and then she was gone, wailing again…but this time it was different. This time the screen went black and the sobs became muffled, the low, mournful cries of someone who has given up. She’d dropped her head into her hands or onto her forearms, her eyes squeezed shut as she cried. Charlie realised, in that moment, why her earlier reaction had been so severe; this was someone not entirely comfortable in their own mind, someone already scared of finding voices in their head or visions in their mind. He didn’t have time to dwell on that, however; plus, he was now swallowed by total darkness. Terror threatened to take him and ruin the small amount of progress he’d just made.
“Minnie, trust me, you’re not going crazy,” Charlie said, raising his voice almost to a shout to be heard, “I know it sounds crazy, this whole situation is crazy, but I promise you I’m the real deal! Okay? My name is Charlie Wilkes, I work in a pub—Barrington’s, you know Barrington’s?—I support the Sky Blues even though I never go to the Ricoh, I grew up in Oxford, I moved here, what, ten years ago? I like, ah, I like movies and books, uh, I like, I like music…shit, who doesn’t, okay, I like cheese, and I hate getting up early! The last film I saw was The English Patient on Blu-Ray, the, uh, the last thing I bought from the shop was a Pepperami and a can of Sprite! My favourite place to eat in Cov is the Ocean Restaurant, and I didn’t vote last election day because I forgot to get to the polling station in time…okay? Is any of this getting through to you?”
“…you’re not real…”
“I am! I promise I am! Look, if I wasn’t real, right, and you were genuinely going crazy, don’t the voices in crazy people’s heads tell them to go and kill people, shit like that? Tell them that the government is run by lizards, and that they’re Jesus come to, to, I dunno, stick forks in their asses? Well I’m not saying any of those things!”
Ease off, for God’s sake. Don’t start attacking her again.
“Look. All I’m asking you to do is listen to me. That’s it. That’s it. You know what, absolute worst case, you’ve gone nuts and you have a voice in your head. But it’s not a nonstop voice, look, I can be quiet if you want, listen.“ Charlie stopped talking for a good thirty seconds. “See? And I’m not nagging at you to do bad things. So it’s not that bad of a bad thing, worst case. And best case…I’m telling the truth, and you and I can figure this out together. Okay? So just, you know, chill out for a moment, take a nice deep breath, and let’s talk.”
He took a few himself, trying to keep a grip—it was hard enough trying to do so for himself, let alone having to try and do it for two—and waited for her response. He closed his eyes, as at least that way he could pretend that the dark all around him was just from the closing of his own eyes, that he could bring the light back any time he wanted. It eventually came, so quiet that he could barely hear it even inside her head.
“Sorry?” he said gently, suddenly hopeful. “What did you say? I didn’t catch that sweetheart, I—“ He jumped back as the screen blazed into life, her eyes opening as her head came up. He didn’t have time to revel in the sudden return of the light.
“Don’t fucking call me sweetheart,” she snapped, her voice immediately strong. “I’m not your sweetheart, and I have a name. It’s Minnie. I told you. Okay?”
Jesus, thought Charlie, kicking himself. He’d meant it as a term of endearment, trying to get her onside, and hadn’t meant to patronise or insult. However, it seemed to have given her more of a kick up the arse than anything else he’d said so far, shunting her frightened mind back online.
“Okay, okay, fair point, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, taking it back. “I just didn’t catch what you said, that’s all I meant.” She hesitated to respond, however, making a small noise in her throat that Charlie couldn’t discern. Was she mollified by his apology or…embarrassed? Whatever it was, the sudden fire in her seemed to have died down as quickly as it arrived, as if she’d forgotten then remembered the situation she was in.
“I said my surname,” she said, quietly, but not frightened. She was embarrassed.
“Okay, sw—Minnie,” Charlie said, correcting himself. “What is it?”
There was a heavy outlet of breath, and then something surprising; laughter, if a little snuffly in its execution. The light from the screen flashed off and on across the screen as she wiped her eyes.
“I don’t like to tell people really, but I don’t know why I’m embarrassed to tell you because I’ve finally gone loony and you’re not even real,” Minnie said, laughing again and sniffing some more as she cleared the last of her tears. It was sad-sounding laughter, but there was also release in it, speaking to Charlie of an inner strength pushed beyond its emotional limits. There was another story here, Charlie knew, one that would have to wait. He decided it best to play along.
“That’s right, you’ve gone crackers and I’m the result. Talk about adding insult to injury, eh?” he offered, smiling despite himself, and was rewarded with a small bark of sniffling, nervous laughter, the view shaking back and forth as she shook her head resignedly.
“Yep, that’s right…Charlie, was it?” she said, looking up at the ceiling. “Sounds like a name I’d give to my lunacy-powered imaginary head-buddy. Jesus…” She let out a sigh that ended in a final sniff. “Okay, Charlie, stand by to yuck your socks off like everyone else has my entire life, then ask the questions. Ready?”
Charlie wondered what the hell she was talking about, but didn’t want to interrupt her flow.
“Yes. Ready.”
“My full name…is Minnie Cooper.”
Charlie stared at the screen, suddenly lost for words. This had to be a dream, then.
“Are you…are you ser—“
“Yes, I’m serious, my Dad thought it would be funny, yes, my brother is really called Tommy, even though he insists on being called Tom, no, I don’t like it, no, I won’t change my name as it’d really upset my Dad, yes, people find it funny, and no, I’ve never owned one. I think that’s all of them. Got any others though?” she finished, sighing and chuckling in the quiet manner of someone who doesn’t actually find anything in a sickening situation funny.
“No, I think that’s all of them,” Charlie said, sitting down and realising that they were finally having a conversation. “Well, I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but given the circumstances, I think that’d be a lie.”
“Uh-huh,” said Minnie with a sigh, the view leaning back and looking at the ceiling. “Keep talking, this really is something else. A real first, I have to say. Just…great. Fucking great.”
“It’s for real, Minnie, I promise you. You have to take me seriously. Please.”
“Don’t worry Chuck, I’m all ears. Go for your life.”
Charlie winced.
“Do me a favour, will you?” he asked, scowling slightly.
“For you? Anything. Just name it.”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Charlie responded.
“Don’t call me that. It winds me up, and I’m stressed out enough as it is.”
“You’re stressed? Ah wait, of course you are. You’re stuck in my head. You just don’t know what to do with yourself, you little tumour you. I always thought I’d be a sudden brain haemorrhage, but I guess I
’m going the slow way. Marvellous. Perfect way to leave a legacy, ending up wandering down the high street in my knickers, make-up smeared all over my face and babbling to invisible Chuck.” The hand came up and picked something up off a nearby coffee table, then threw it against the wall where it shattered. Ignoring the deliberate jibe, Charlie took in the room in front of him whilst he thought of his next move. It was as shabby as the bathroom, with a threadbare carpet and faded paint on the walls. A small table with two chairs stood in the opposite corner, and a bookcase—a full to capacity bookcase—was placed in front of the eastern wall. A fairly old TV stood in the corner to their left, with a knotted rug placed in front of it. She had done her best to make it homely, though; the candles were again in abundance, and there were many small picture frames all over the walls, each one with a candid photo of people she presumably knew. They were all quite faded though, suggesting they hadn’t been updated in some time.
Charlie realised he was going to get nowhere unless he convinced her that he was for real, and so he turned his attention to finding a practical method for this. Almost immediately, he thought of two. Excitedly, he spoke up.
“Facebook. Look me up on Facebook. I have an account, it’ll say I live in Coventry, I’m all there. Easy.” There was silence for a moment as she pondered this.
“Nope. Won’t work, Chuck,” she said, sighing and shaking her head, as Charlie gritted his teeth and tried to keep a lid on his anger. “I could have seen your name on a mutual friend’s profile, or even just seen your name in the paper, anything, and my subconscious has picked you at random and given you a little voice in my head. Seeing a name on a Facebook page, what would that prove?”
“I could…I could tell you what my last few status updates were about, and then you could check them and see if I was right. How would you know that?”
“Well, apart from the fact that I couldn’t look at your statuses as we’re not Facebook friends, Chuck. Unless your profile is Public?”
“I told you, stop calling me-”
“Chuck! Chuckchuckchuuuuck!!” Minnie suddenly screamed, and the jaded bravado dropped away completely as silent tears began. Charlie bit his lip, and waited a moment for them to fade before he tried his next idea.
“Don’t cry, come on. Listen…” He hesitated before asking his next question, being forced to go somewhere he never really liked to. It had been a while… “Can you drive?”” he said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice and quietly hoping the answer would actually be no. She sniffed in response, and drew in a breath.
“I clearly shouldn’t be allowed, but yes,” she replied, her voice croaky, and Charlie’s heart sank a notch. Dammit…he’d been hoping they’d have to take the bus. He always avoided being in cars.
“Where do you want to go?” Minnie continued. “I’m assuming this is the start of the bloody…killing spree, right? Drive the fucking…Fiesta through Tesco’s shop window?” The hand dragged across the bottom of the screen as she wiped her nose. Again, Charlie found himself wondering where he physically was; how could he be stood behind her eyes? Not even her eyes in fact, but a strange representation of them?
First things first, Charlie. Plus, it’s a dream, don’t forget that,the voice in his head said…but it sounded less confident than ever. Then Charlie realised he was listening to a voice in his own head, and quickly pushed that thought away before his mind blew.
“My house. We’ll go to my house,” he said, firmly, pleased with his own idea and finding it infallible. “I’ll tell you where the spare key is, and you can go in, hell, I’ll tell you the password to my PC, you can go in there too…all stuff that you couldn’t possibly know. Right? And then you’ll have to believe me. Okay? And then we can decide if this is, I dunno, a psychic link or an out-of-body experience or whatever, and then decide what we do about it. Tell me what’s wrong with that, eh?”
Silence again, followed by another sigh and a headshake. Charlie was about to do some shouting of his own, when the view began to rise from the floor.
“Okay, whatever you say Chuck, it’s not like I had any other pla—sorry, Charlie, Charlie—let’s go for a road trip. At least I’ll have some company.”
“You’re up for that? That’s great. Do you…do you have a car of your own?”
“Only just, but yes. Hopefully it’ll get us around Coventry and back.”
Great. An old banger as well. This just gets better, thought Charlie, trying to smother his usual anxieties.
“Where the hell are we going anyway?” Minnie asked.
“Radford,” said Charlie, relieved at least that they were making progress and pushing thoughts of the dreaded passenger seat out of his head. A thought struck him. “Where are we at the moment, anyway?”
“Canley,” she said, moving to pick up a black woollen coat from the living room table. “Costa Del Canley. Not too far…” she caught herself, and gave a hollow laugh. “So it shouldn’t inconvenience you too much.” Then, quietly to herself: “What the fuck are you doing, you crazy bitch…”
They moved into the hallway and the mirror came into the view, showing Minnie’s face again, now red-eyed with blotchy pink patches on her skin.
“Jesus, look at the state of me,” she said, sarcastically, running her hands through her tight curls. “I’m in no state to be seen out and about with my very own man-in-the-head. Girl-about-town, man-in-the-head. Not every day I get to do this sort of thing, right?” Her face crumpled slightly for a second, about to go again, but she swallowed it back. She stared into the mirror for a moment, and as Charlie watched he was suddenly struck by an uncanny sensation.
It was only brief, but for a second Charlie had the utter conviction that he recognised her; that he knew her face like that of an old, long-forgotten friend, reduced to a hazy memory by a distance of years. Then just as quickly, the moment was gone, and Minnie was yet again just a stranger whose life he’d been thrown into..
“Charlie?” Minnie said, in a small, suddenly scared voice. Or maybe not suddenly, Charlie thought. He wondered if maybe the annoying sarcasm was her defence mechanism against the world, protecting the real Minnie when she felt as terrified as she did now.
“I’m here. I wish I wasn’t—no offence—but I’m here.”
“When we’ve been to your house…if it’s there or not…will you leave me alone after that?” she asked. It was almost a plea. Charlie didn’t know what to say.
“I’ll try. I promise I’ll try.”
She carried on staring into the mirror, and then he heard her keys jangle in her hand. Minnie—and Charlie with her—was turning and walking out of the front door.
***
In all the years Charlie had lived in Coventry, he’d never quite gotten his head around where each area ended and the next began; knowing the quickest way between them was even more of a challenge. Riding inside Minnie’s head, and inside her barely roadworthy old Ford Fiesta, it became immediately clear that she didn’t suffer from the same problem. He thought it best to be silent as they drove, even though he had questions; was she born here, what was her job, what the hell was her general problem anyway, other than having a strange man in her head (although he thought if he did ask that, he’d phrase the question slightly more pleasantly.) All of which he kept to himself, both out of politeness, all too aware that he effectively was trespassing on her life, and the fact that if the question was returned he’d never really be able to answer it, or at least explain properly why he was still there.
He’d moved there for a girl, after all, and quickly realised that she wasn’t The One (a lack of desire to do anything other than watch TV quickly became apparent in their new domestic situation) and after moving out he’d kept the same stop-gap job he’d taken upon arrival in the city. Telling himself he’d only work there whilst looking into doing something else—he had a degree in English after all, and had thought about becoming a copywriter—the same internal conversation had carried on for ten years, even when he was m
ade manager of the venue.
These days, he didn’t even really bother convincing himself that he intended to do anything else; life was good, the hours suited him, the work was mainly a sociable laugh, and he was lucky enough to have what he considered to be a good group of friends. If the city wasn’t his first choice, and the pay wasn’t spectacular, he supposed he didn’t really class those issues as being enough reason to upset the status quo. Bottom line, he spent a lot of time having fun, and that was what he loved best in life. Starting a family wasn’t on his radar, held no appeal, but it wasn’t because he was shallow; he just prized his freedom very highly.
And yet here he was, sitting trapped in a black room, with no knowledge of how he got there in the first place.
Even worse, he was trapped in a black room that was trapped inside a moving car, one of his least favourite places on earth to be. Visions of the past flashed before his eyes; the roll and flip of the light, the smack of weight on water…he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, taking it away as best he could.
Eventually, it was Minnie who broke the silence.
“You there, Charlie?” she asked, sounding businesslike. Minnie had seemed to relax once they were in the car, now she had a job to do and something to occupy her mind.
“Yeah”, he replied, sitting up, keen to talk. As time had passed, he’d felt more and more guilty about his presence in her head, despite his annoyance at her hysterics. She’d been scared out of her wits, and had done nothing, as far as he knew, to deserve it. Anything he could do to be ‘nice’ now, he would do so, for her. “I’m here, just, you know, trying to respect your personal space. Well…as far as possible, anyway.” He chuckled slightly, trying to make a joke, but she didn’t return it.
“Sat nav says we’re nearly here,” she said, referring to the phone software that was directing her. The modern hardware looked out of place, clipped in its holder against the aging air vents of the decrepit vehicle. She hadn’t recognised the name of the street when he said it, but Charlie hadn’t even bothered to try and use it as proof of him being who he said he was. She’d only claim the same explanation that she’d used earlier, that of her own subconscious storage of something she’d heard, or seen once in passing, that was then forgotten by her conscious mind.
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