‘You’re getting crumbs everywhere, can you use a plate?’ sighed Luca, offering me one from the other side of the kitchen.
I retrieved the plate and put it down, drawing in a breath. I was about to rush to the office. This was necessary to afford our rent and to allow Luca to continue his heroic act of keeping our household crumb-free.
‘Can you put the plate on the table mat?’ Luca asked, eyeing the crumbs disdainfully while he reached for a box of mince pies.
I stopped mid chew and stared at him. As if he was taking the high road over a few crumbs. ‘What is the point Luca?’ I snapped.
Luca glared at me as if I’d just ravaged his last mince pie. ‘What’s the point of what’.
‘Oh shut the fuck up’. I shoved the remainder of my toast in my mouth and got up to leave. My nose wrinkled as I suppressed a sneeze - a sure sign of Molly’s arrival. Luca’s cat, another freeloading housemate, sauntered into the room. At just 7:34 am, I already felt done with the day.
Usually, the underground is rammed with impatient faces in a blur of suits. Today, it’s hectic still. Commuters are replaced with faceless shoppers, all eager to plunge into heaps of bargains and sales. They won’t have to wait much longer; the countdown to the next train has ticked down to just one minute. It’s December 28th, so most sane people have taken time off. They choose to spend this liminal period between Christmas and New Year’s lounging on their couches, getting fat on mince pies. I imagined Luca’s scowl if I dare eat a pie without a plate. I feel a pang of relief for having chosen work over holidays.
‘I’m going to do it’
My grotesque fantasy of squelching mince pies and smearing them on the walls, as Luca gapes in horror, dissipated. I whipped around to see a man standing next to me on the platform. “What?”
His eyes met mine. Despite being taller, he seemed so much smaller. The distant rumble of the train grew louder.
‘I’m… I’m going to do it’
For fuck’s sake. How does someone continue about their day after witnessing a suicide? A drink is acceptable, I suppose. What exactly is the etiquette?
The tracks began to rattle.
‘Erm’, I cleared my throat, ‘Don’t… I mean, don’t do it.’
‘Why?’
Well, he had me there. Why? I frantically searched my mind for a magical answer, but nothing suitable surfaced. I blankly stared at him.
The train roared around the bend, its arrival imminent. Instinct overcame me as he was about to take his final step, and I reached out and grabbed the back of his coat. I was surprised by the lack of resistance as I pulled this stranger back from the edge. Frantically, I looked around for help. Had no one else noticed?
As the train pulled in, the screech of its doors opening seemed to stretch out as time dilated. The muffled train announcements and the background chatter of passengers merged into a deafening whirl. My focus fixated onto a couple standing by the gap, arguing loudly, evidently not caring about airing their dirty laundry in public. An old woman with deep frown wrinkles sat glued to the seat behind them. She slowly turned her head, somehow aging further, and she looked right through me. Watching everyone experiencing the trajectory of their own timelines made everything seem so unimportant. The chugging of the train grew louder and faster, and suddenly, it had departed.
‘I owe you my life’
‘What?’ I was still frozen in place, hand clinging onto the back of his coat so hard that my knuckles had turned white. I slowly released him, my heart finally slowing down.
‘I’ll return the favour, I swear.’ His words sank like a pit in my stomach. With nothing to say, I turned away, perhaps rudely, eager to continue my day as if these past moments had never happened.
From that day, he appeared everywhere. At first, it was small things – coffee already paid for by the time I reached the front of the line, my favourite snacks left at my doorstep. I don’t recall mentioning my peanut butter cup obsession to him while I pulled him back from the train tracks. More importantly, how did he even know my address? A dark feeling of dread crawled over my skin with each seemingly kind incident.
I continued trying to suppress the train incident, hoping to erase it from my memory. I treated these acts of kindness in the same way. Everything seemed moderately harmless, I told myself. Moderately harmless was moderately good enough for me.
I’m not completely sure why I hid the event and these incidents from Luca. Things had been tense since my outburst. Maybe that was the reason I felt so emotionally heavy since that day. Maybe I should apologise, even if it was just to make myself feel better.
Arriving home, I rehearsed the apology in my head to sound as sincere as possible. I was not prepared for the sorry sight on my doorstep. Molly lay dead, eyes wide open, with a note attached: You were allergic, right? A problem solved. My stomach churned - this may now have escalated to beyond moderately harmless. The crushing weight on my chest could not be ignored, yet now I definitely couldn’t tell Luca the truth. It was my fault after all for having to be a goddamned saviour.
He had no name, I couldn’t recall his face. He was nobody. A phantom and yet his presence surrounded me like a dark cloud, pushing against me, suffocating. I felt watched. Does he seriously think he’s looking out for me? Like a twisted guardian angel - no, a guardian demon.
Luca and I buried Molly together. We put it down to a cruel prank by a neighbourhood kid. I held Luca as we both grieved, and he sobbed in my arms. Despite the tragedy, there was an oddly touching intimacy between us as we embraced, sharing our loss. A warmth stirred within me for the first time in years. Perhaps it was guilt. Perhaps it was a testament of our own mortality, putting petty arguments into perspective. Perhaps it was refreshing to be reminded that Luca was capable of love, care and emotion.
Over the next few days, the distance between us lessened.The physical touch that had diminished as resentment grew was now returning. Luca’s arms around my waist, which would have made me shudder last week as I remembered his constant online gaming breaks, were now welcomed. I felt comforted, safe and at home.
One morning, as I munched on my usual toast and selected my work shifts for the next couple of weeks, I heard Luca clear his throat. He was standing at the doorway looking a bit nervous.
‘I was thinking… you’ve been working so much, and we’ve been cooped up here for so long… maybe… maybe we should go away? Something fun like we used to do, a camping trip in Wales maybe?’
I stared at him, overwhelmed at his suggestion. As the corners of my mouth started to smile, he continued.
‘I know… I haven’t been contributing much. Life has felt like… a lot to handle these last couple years. I’ve been thinking about how fast things can change and I…’ - he gulped - ‘…can’t bear to lose more of what we’ve been building together. I’ll start looking for jobs again.’
I could finally see him. There was the empathetic, ambitious, adventurous person I had fallen in love with. Maybe this had all been a disguised blessing. Poor Molly; however, her loss might have been the jolt Luca needed to become the partner, lover, and man I knew he could be. Maybe my guardian demon knew what he was doing after all.
I worked more the next week so that we could go away that weekend, beyond excited to go on an adventure together. Friday rolled around, and Luca had gone out to pick up food, drinks, and supplies. Meanwhile, I rushed back from work so we could start our rekindling road trip..
Approaching our door, I noticed a note wrapped around the door handle. Had Luca left me a note? Cute, we hadn’t left each other notes or gifts in years. Grinning like a lovestruck teenager, I unravelled the paper.
Finally shut him up. From now on, no one will take advantage of you.
Any remnants of honeymoon happiness vanished, replaced by a lingering, crushing darkness. I fumbled with the key while my hands shook, and finally got it in the lock. Tears already welling in my eyes, I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
Camping equipment was scattered throughout the room, and also throughout Luca. A tent rod speared through his stomach, the blood had seeped out and formed a perfect circle around him. A dented gas canister lay near his caved-in skull. A tin of baked beans had been opened, and rammed down his mouth, ripping his throat open as both beans and blood dripped down his neck.
The crushing darkness that had been surrounding me now flooded my nostrils, throat, and ears, asphyxiating me. The curse had never left; I had merely been distracted by our newfound love to notice it. Now it coursed through my veins. Overcome with adrenaline, I fled.
Luca hadn’t made an intentional effort to make me miserable, but that didn’t matter; he didn’t deserve this death. Luca, my perpetual source of irritation yet unwavering companion, was gone. Somehow, the weight of responsibility settled heavily on my chest. How many more deaths would there be for my apparent benefit?
I raced through the streets, engulfed in a haze of fear and guilt. My mind was a blur, with no conscious thought of my destination or actions, yet my feet knew exactly where to take me. This was clearly my destiny, my own inevitable trajectory and timeline.
I found myself at the train platform, the site of our very first encounter.
Approaching the train tracks, I sighed. My foot hovered off the platform, and I shut my eyes.
Instead of falling forwards, I was abruptly yanked backwards.
‘Jesus Christ are you ok?’ cried out my saviour, as the train screeched to a halt.
I gasped for air, feeling the oppressive weight of dread lift from my shoulders for the first time in weeks. I had never felt so alive. I turned to face him, a newfound clarity in my eyes.
‘I owe you my life’, I breathed out.