Shatter Me

Bradley's P. O. V.

My day was weird enough before waiters started calling me by weird names and collapsing. First it was the agonizing headache I woke up with, accompanied by my usual odd feeling that I had forgotten something incredibly important. I got up and took a couple ibuprofen before calling up my friend, Eoin. He answered after two rings, his borderline obnoxious Irish accent filling my eardrums with enthusiasm.

"Oi, Bradley! My mate! Are we going out today? There's this new restaurant I want to try out down by my flat. Called La Mesa Rondunda or something like that," he gushed before I had the chance to say hello.

"Hey, Eoin. Um, yeah okay. Pick me up in 15?" I asked. The annoying part of my life (well one of them anyway) is that I don't own a car. Sure, tons of people in New York don't own cars, but still. Every time I see Eoin's sweet black Maserati, I get jealous.

Anyway, after taking a kind of rushed shower, I pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt depicting two stick figures, one saying 'I got your back.' It was dumb, but Eoin bought it for me a while back with the excuse that I needed more 'quality clothing' or whatever. I appreciate the gesture, anyway. 

Finally he pulled up next to my front door, gesturing at me to hurry up. Except he wasn't in the black Maserati. It was an old gray Chevy.

"Where did you get this piece of junk?" I asked. Eoin looked offended.

"What are you talkin, mate? I've always had this car. As long as we've known each other, anyway," he said. I shook my head.

"No, you definitely had a black Maserati yesterday when we went out to the club," I insisted. Eoin just shook his head and laughed.

"Good one. You had me going there for a second. I would never own a Maserati. You know how I feel about those rich blokes and their cars," he said. I didn't say anything after that. Then we arrived at the restaurant, and a black haired, scrawny looking guy came out to take our order. Except we didn't get the chance to order, because he started shaking all over and looking at me like I was a ghost.

"Hey, you okay bro?" I heard Eoin ask. The poor guy ignored him and looked accusingly at me.

"A-Arthur?" he muttered and then collapsed, his knees buckling beneath him. As if on instinct, I rushed forward to catch him before he could hit his head on the polished marble floor. And that's where I'm now. With a strange man in my arms.

He looks up at me in a daze.

"You...but you're dead..." he says. Then he notices where he is and scrambles away from me, getting to his feet on shaky legs. I frown.

"I'm not dead. I'm right here. Right Eoin? I'm not dead right?" I ask. I glance at Eoin, who looks about as confused as I feel.

"Not as far as I know," he says.

"See?" I extend my arm. "Feel it. Not dead. Also, pretty sure I'm not that Arthur guy. My name's Bradley. And yours?" But the waiter just shakes his head and backs away.

"Yeah. Yeah okay. You just...you look like someone I used to know. That's all. I'm sorry," he mumbles in a rush and backs into the black double doors that probably lead to the kitchen. Eoin and I look at each other. Finally he breaks the silence by barking out a laugh. And then suddenly we're both shaking with uncontrollable laughter.

"Can you believe that guy?" Eoin says and I just shake my head. When we finally regain control, we sit down at a booth and wait. After a few minutes a pretty girl with dark hair comes out to take our orders.

"Hi, I'm Katie and I'll be your waitress this morning. Can I get you some drinks to start you off?" she asks politely.

We don't see the crazy waiter for the rest of our time at the restaurant, but as we're leaving I feel a strange compulsion to look back and find the waiter again. Something tells me I've met him before, but at the same time, I'm sure we've never seen each other in my life. I'm probably just being crazy. First that Maserati incident and now this? The more I think about it, the more sure I am that Eoin has always had that old Chevy and I've never met that guy in my life. I shake my head and take a deep breath. No. I'm not going crazy.

It's two days later when Eoin and I see the ad in the newspaper. 'Roommate Wanted' it reads. Underneath it was a description of the person and a picture. A name ran along the bottom: Colin Morgan.

"Hey check it out, mate. It's that crazy waiter from that wacked restaurant," Eoin laughs. I frown.

"Why do you think he wants a roommate?" I ask.

"Well it says here it's 'cause he's tired of being alone all the time? Sounds pretty emo to me, man," he says. But I don't share his skepticism.

"I dunno, I think maybe I'll try it out. I don't like living alone either," I admit. Eoin raises his eyebrows.

"Seriously, mate? After how he acted at the restaurant? He's crazy! If I were you, I'd be afraid he'd kill me in my sleep or somethin,'" he exclaims, but I'm already dialing the number from the ad. I don't even know why I do it. I just know I have  to see that waiter again. Something is drawing me toward him like a magnet.

The phone rings a few times before someone picks up; a woman.

"Hello?" she says.

"Oh, yeah, hi. Um, I'm calling about the roommate thing. In the paper," I confess awkwardly.

"Oh yeah hold on," there's a shuffling sound and then a man's voice. It's the same one from the restaurant, but a little deeper, without that edge of shock and panic.

"Uh, this is Colin," he sniffs like he's got a cold.

"Yeah, hi, this is Bradley. From the restaurant. I saw your ad in the paper and was wondering if that roommate position was still open?" I ask. There's a pause. When Colin speaks again, there's a defensive edge to his voice.

"Why," he states.

"Uh, what?"

"Why would you want to be my roommate. I was acting like a blubbering idiot the other day," he elaborates.

"Oh, I don't think you're an idiot at all," I say. Why did I say that?? I don't even know this man. There's another pause.

"Well, if you're sure then I guess you could come by this evening and check the place out. What about six?" he asks.

"Oh yeah, perfect. It's a date," those words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them and I freeze. "Uhh, I don't mean like an actual date, of course, I just--"

"Yeah I get it," Colin says with a short chuckle.

"So see you in a few hours then?"

"It's a date," Colin decrees and I can't help but smile.