Link to part 1 Flatmate. Part 1. : nosleep (reddit.com)
‘Jordan?’ David sounded excited. Of course something had happened, he would’ve just messaged otherwise.
‘Yea, man, what’s up?’
‘I got it.’
A weird feeling came over me.
‘Got what?’ I asked apprehensively.
‘The post.’
‘What post?’
He sighed. ‘What’s with you, dude? The promotion. I told ya I was in the running for it.’
Indeed he had, like any friend would. But I only recalled now, vaguely, him texting me about it a few days back. I had been so focussed on the bad things that I feared might happen to him, I had completely forgotten about the good.
‘You got it? For real? Wow brilliant! Congratulations!’ To my own ears I sounded corny and over-enthusiastic. I just hoped it didn’t sound the same way to him.
‘Thanks man.’
‘So – you’re moving to the other end of the country then?’
‘That’s the deal, pretty much.’
‘Hey, why don’t you and Kat come on over tonight to celebrate?’
‘No sorry. I can’t. She’s already got dinner planned.’
‘Oh good’ I said hollowly. ‘How ‘bout tomorrow?’
‘Sorry man, tomorrow’s out too. Gotta million things to organise.’ I should’ve guessed. ‘But we will definitely meet up soon, maybe just not at your place at the moment.’ True enough, it was a bit of a drive for him. ‘Look, gotta get back. I’ll message ya, soon as.’
After the call ended, I sat with my head in my hands for a moment. The way I saw it, David had come to stay over at my flat just once and now he was moving so damn far away. Not as bad as going abroad again (of course there were continuing flight restrictions these days anyhow) but somehow I was convinced he wouldn’t ever come to my flat again. Like all the other people who’d had the temerity to stay over. During the final month before his departure we met just twice in person, once in town and once at his farewell dinner at a mutual friend’s house. Then he was off to the other end of the country as promised. The grim pattern had reasserted itself.
Overreaction, right?
My despondent response to a friend’s promotion showed me all too plainly what a funk I was getting into. I was getting jumpy and snappy and didn’t know what to do. I made an effort to rationalise the situation. The main factor for me was not just external events but also the simple fact that buying a new property was such a huge responsibility of course. Financial responsibility above all. After all I had sunk in a good deal of my money into the project, thrown everything at it. It was affecting me more than I had realised, no doubt. Finally I went in for a bit of counselling, pretending I was work-stressed or something, in the first instance. You got free counselling at work so that seemed the best way to get into it. Of course I was fobbed off with the usual platitudes, some gentle hints that I was paranoid and a whole lot of blather about ‘the new normal’. Was it any wonder that people were stressed? I was just glad I hadn’t had to pay for this ‘advice’.
I decided I was getting cabin fever, compounded by the continued effects of working remotely, so I made strict arrangements to take time off work, which I would spend in the loving bosom of my family. Time which would be well spent re-establishing old bonds, after the debacle earlier in the year.
Then on the morning I was due to leave, the plumbing system in the flat – which had worked impeccably up until then – suddenly broke down, nearly flooding me out.
Well no, that’s an exaggeration, about being flooded out I mean. But it was just enough of a problem that it meant I had to stay and try to get things fixed. In fact if I had been flooded out that might almost have been better, in a way, because then I would’ve had a real excuse to go stay someplace else for a while. But I wasn’t going to be allowed to do that.
I called my family to tell them my visit had been put on hold.
After that, it was just one thing after another. The boiler broke down next, in such a mysterious fashion that a whole gaggle of experts couldn’t figure it out, each disagreeing vehemently with the others about what it could be. I was kept busy for a few days arranging one damn engineer appointment after another, while my family wondered why I just couldn’t leave it for a while and make my visit. But by now I was seized with horrible visions of the mysterious boiler issue causing the whole flat to blow up while I was not there to keep an eye on things. Finally it seemed to get going again, in rather begrudging fashion, but now I no longer had the energy to visit anywhere. Instead, I slumped on the couch and slept.
And dreamed, of a voice saying over and over: Aren’t you glad you decided to stay? I am.
It was after all this crazy stuff happened that I began seriously to consider the possibility of my flat being haunted or hexed, or something. Sure, I was under strain and my subconscious fears were probably making shit happen, but what if there genuinely was something more to it?
It was a pretty old building, almost eighty years old, but of course I’d already looked into all the background details before buying, and there hadn’t seemed to be anything untoward. Although it had been empty for a space before I took it on, there was no history of any dire deeds or tragedies connected with it that I could find. Nothing amiss in the neighbourhood either. Although, as I said, it had needed some upgrading it hadn’t been in the worst condition when I took it over, and things had gone smoothly then. Finding that my researches turned up nothing, I wearily abandoned my inquiries – at least for the time.
Well, I made tentative plans to re-arrange the family visit, and almost immediately our part of the world went into another lockdown for the winter. It wasn’t as severe as the first time around but still enough to discourage most personal visits. I passed the winter in a kind of stupor, doing my work online as usual, ordering groceries and spent Christmas largely mouthing at loved ones onscreen.
And now it was another year, and as it rolled towards spring, more restrictions were lifted and in many ways things did seem to get back to ‘normal’, although we had all forgotten what that meant. Anyway, for me personally, I hadn’t had to worry about people inviting themselves to stay over and having to be terrified that something would intervene to prevent them ever coming again. But finally I told myself I had to get my shit together. So I made a determined effort to resurrect my social life. Places were opening up once more. I even made the effort to go to clubbing and the like, although I had never gone in much for that stuff even in the distant age before lockdowns and getting the flat. The result was I met a rather pretty girl who didn’t get too inebriated and who still wanted to see me a couple days later. Her name was Melanie. I faintly recalled that it had been well over a year since I’d been with a girl.
After a few coffee and drink dates, she finally came to my flat one evening. She was sincerely enthusiastic about it all, the rooms, the décor, the view, making me like her all the more. It was a take it or leave it kind of deal, officially it was a dinner date and there were extras if she wanted, but it was entirely up to her.
Hope she takes up the offer, I thought.
Don’t push it.
Shit, that voice again.
That crazy voice, which I hadn’t heard in months. The voice in my head, but this time so loud, so … definite, it was literally like there was someone right there at my shoulder.
I promptly dropped the glass I was holding, it shattered on the coffee table which was messy enough but somehow I contrived to cut my stupid self in the process as well. I don’t know how it could’ve happened, but it did. Like one of the pieces just flew up or something and sliced into my left wrist. Way to go Jordan, I groaned inwardly as Melanie came running in through from where she had been admiring the river view to see my blood dripping pretty liberally onto the hardwood floor. Although not the deadliest of injuries it wasn’t particularly slight, either, and she played nursemaid for a bit before getting me professionally checked out because the bleeding would not stop. It hurt like hell, too. When her fears had been quelled, she said she could stay the night just to help out, but I pointed out that she’d already done a lot for me, and persuaded her to go home. We met a few times more after that but never again at my place, and then gradually lost contact.
Talk about a freak accident. Too damn freaky for my liking.