I once loved this guy. He was...complex.
February 1
I woke up with a distinct memory, impossible and incomplete, but it felt so real. It must have been a dream, had to be — an insanely weird, crazy dream. It had faded a lot since I woke up, but part of it was still with me, haunting me and making me shiver — tormenting my waking hours.
A heartbeat had been loud in my ears, but I couldn't say if it was my own. Thu-thump. thu-thump. Pulsing and resounding, the loud, heavy rhythm made me feel nauseous, like I was inside my own body.
Make it stop... Even now it makes me shiver.
The walls around me were like flesh, pulsing with life, with veins running through them, pumping blood that I could not see or taste or fathom. I worried that I was inside my own chest cavity. From here, could I pull out the knife that had penetrated me? Someone had stabbed me in the back, too much of a coward to show me their face. I knew that was true. Suspended in the middle of the chamber was that large blackened heart, beating with a pulse that made me sick. The heart was bleeding, dripping, a rancid puddle beneath it.
And in the midst of that ghastly, impossible scene? Roses. Vibrant red, blooming and thorny roses, spiraling out of the flesh. How could roses have grown and thrived in that environment, unless they were nourished by blood? Was there any truth to that? No, of course it was impossible. That's why it must have been a dream.
No. A nightmare.
I could see a creature rising from the black muck, drawing itself up from the pool that had drained from the heart. Arms emerged, dragging the abomination forward to reveal a form, much like a human and yet alien. A monstrosity. Its body was like black paint, dripping. Its face was porcelain white — a pretty face.
I only managed to choke out a few words.
"What are you?"
That was all I remembered of the dream, but because of it, I'd had the strangest feeling in my stomach all day. Something was going to happen. Maybe to me. Maybe to someone else. But something wasn't right, and I had predicted it like a psychic.
"Are you okay?"
I was startled out of my stupor, turning back to the full pot of coffee that had long since finished brewing. Chelsea had noticed me staring blankly out the front window, and I felt a little embarrassed, but I was quickly back where I was supposed to be. I wanted to act like I hadn't just predicted the fate of the world.
"Just a little spacey, I guess," I told her, forcing a smile, but that never worked with her.
"Like that's something new," Chelsea teased, her eyeliner as thick as ever. "But you'd better hop to it. Nerdy lover-boy is here. You always wait on him, right?"
I looked over to see that Simon was settling himself at the counter like usual. He was arranging his tablet to find an angle where the light wouldn't shine on the screen. Today, despite my bad feelings, I felt more aware, my senses heightened. I noticed every detail. He was wearing a dark shirt and a gray-green jacket with jeans. He pushed his glasses up on his smart nose, his green eyes so focused, and I already knew what he would want. Black coffee to start. But there was something else too — something strange.
When my eyes set on him, my heart fluttered in a way that seemed unfamiliar. Did I always feel nervous at the thought of talking to him? Did I always think about the way he pushed his glasses up on his nose, or how cute he looked when he was so focused on his work? I wasn't sure, but I certainly did now. This seemed like a new feeling that had just sprung up without reason. Why was I nervous?
I wiped my hands on my apron and got a clean cup, filling it with the fresh brew. I had to take a deep breath before my feet would even begin to carry me toward him. Why was I so shaky? This was a regular day, just like the day before. I wasn't different, was I?
"Good morning," I said cheerfully. Wasn't that how I usually started? If it was, why did he seem surprised?
"Yes, good morning," Simon responded, but only as if reciting the social norm and certainly not as though I was someone special. He blinked a couple of times behind his glasses. Was I too forceful? Had I startled him?
"Are you ready to order?" I asked, trying to dial it back a bit.
"Coffee first. I have a lecture in thirty minutes," he said, fulfilling his end of the conversation. Was it my turn now, or was that the end? My palms were getting sweaty. Was he this muscular-looking yesterday?
"What sort of lecture?" I asked immediately. "I mean, what class?"
He looked back at me, surprised yet again. "You've never asked me that before." He tilted his head a tick, in a way that made him look like a curious puppy, but his expression was shrewd like a fox. "In fact, I don't think we've ever had a conversation at all except over the eggs."
I had thought that this was a chance to get to know him, but what a cold response. And how strange. Was he always like this? I found myself obsessing over it for several seconds before I shook myself out of it.
"I was just curious," I said, turning on my polite customer-service smile. "Are you ready to order?"
"Give me a moment, if you don't mind."
I turned away from him, flustered, my mind thinking much too hard about how he'd reacted to me. I hadn't thought that he disliked me, but did he? I'd never thought about all that before, but right now, it bothered me. I shouldn't be stupid like this, I know. Wasn't I too old to be obsessing over a guy? Maybe. Clearly not.
I busied myself behind the counter for a few minutes before I dared to look at him again. I knew his name was Simon. I was one-hundred percent sure.
"Are you ready?" I asked, turning back. I was still feeling a little flustered, but I managed to make eye contact as I spoke to him.
"Multiverse Theory," he said to me, and I was taken off guard.
"What?" What was he saying? For a full two seconds, that had sounded like complete gibberish.
"That's the name of the lecture," Simon clarified, adjusting his glasses once again. "You asked."
"Oh, um, yes..." The conversation — if it could be called that — had gotten so choppy and weird by then that I certainly couldn't function.
"Sorry, I guess that was a bit out of order," he apologized. "I don't think I've ever introduced myself, even though you serve me much of the time. I'm Simon."
"Rosaleigh," I clamored. "Even though you probably already know that. My name is on my uniform."
I pinched my nametag as I laughed awkwardly like an idiot. He just looked at me with his same blasé expression.
"I hadn't noticed," he said. He had never cared to look, is what he meant. Great. I guess my infatuation was completely one-sided.
"Now that we know each other, I'll have a breakfast special, please." I began to scribble that down. "Eggs over easy, toast with strawberry jam, and bacon."
"Bacon?" I asked, pausing in my writing. That didn't seem right. "Don't you always get sausage?"
"No, I don't care for sausage. I always order bacon." He stared at me, and I felt my face grow hot. This really felt new. Why was I acting this way? I didn't even know this guy. I didn't know his personality or his past, his interests or his aspirations. I only knew what he liked for breakfast.
"Maybe you were thinking of someone else," he suggested, but seemed unbothered by the idea. Doesn't he care that I confused him with someone else? Doesn't he want to be special?
Oh God, what is wrong with me?
"Sure," I recovered. "Yeah, that's probably it. I'll turn this in for you."
I smiled at him, and he smiled back at me just slightly, but more than I think I've ever seen. Simon was quick to turn back to his notes. Did I imagine that his face was a bit flushed? Mine was too. I could feel the heat. I went back to work, taking several orders and trying not to stare at him until his order was up.
We didn't say much for the rest of the time he sat at the counter to eat his breakfast. Maybe we both felt awkward after the exchange, but that was enough of a start. I was just glad Chelsea hadn't overheard us talking. She would have had a field day with this.
True to his word, Simon left after about twenty minutes, off to his lecture. He did make eye contact with me on his way out, and I smiled at him as he pulled his bag over his shoulder and left. I was on top of things for the rest of that day, and when my double-shift was over, I was plenty ready to go. I didn't waste time grabbing my coat and my bag, but then checked myself in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable. I dabbed on a bit of lip gloss. What if I saw Simon on the way home? Doubtful, but possible. He was the only one I cared about seeing, and I didn't like the odds of him seeing me at my worst.
"Hot date?" Chelsea asked me, walking past, taking note of my slight effort to gussy up.
"Not really. Mind your own business," I responded with a smile that I tried to hold down, but it wouldn't go away.
Chelsea gave me a long whistle and a leer, but didn't prod me further as I trotted toward the door. When I opened it to step out onto the street, the wind hit my face, and I thought the evening air felt different than it had this morning, fresher. Maybe there was love in it.
Wow, that was stupid. Slow down, girl.
I walked along beside the street, looking all around me at the couples who were walking together or dining at tables set up near the walkways. All the twenty-something guys and girls, eating their vegan dishes — or whatever. College kids in this town; who knew? I wasn't one of them, but looking at them, I smiled. I felt hopeful at the thought of their happiness, like maybe there really was someone out there for me, who would love me just like I loved them and we could share this crazy thing called life. When had I become such a romantic?
The bad feelings I'd had earlier in the day only existed as residue now. I'd had a weird dream, yes, but that was all it was. I was feeling better. Nothing bad was going to happen, to me or anyone else.
I plugged my ears with some cheerful music as I carried on my way, looking up at the stars that were starting to emerge above the streetlights. I'd drifted away from the crowds now, approaching a crosswalk I passed daily. I could see the Don't Walk sign already, but I could wait. My apartment was only a block from there. I continued on my way, oblivious to the world, and then —
I felt a tap on my shoulder, sending a tremor all the way to my knees. I spun around, startled, pulling the music from my ears to make me more aware, and I think my eyes widened even further when I saw who had stopped me.
Of anyone it might have been — friend or family or random stranger — Simon was there, looking a bit awkward to see that I was startled. Had he been trying to catch up with me? But I was glad he was there. He had come just for me, and I knew that. I didn't keep him waiting. Hopefully I'd be a bit more composed than I was earlier.
"Simon," I started, my smile coming easily. "Hey."
He looked a bit flustered as he looked down at me, his glasses catching the setting sun. He was cute as always, and taller than I'd thought he'd be standing next to me.
"I was hoping to catch you at Kelley's, but I was a little late. Your friend told me you'd just left and gave me a general direction. I'm...glad I caught you."
Me too. Me too very much. I didn't say that. Maybe I should have.
"You know, Rosaleigh, I know this might seem abrupt, but after talking with you today, I'm compelled to ask you to go out with me."
Compelled? This was an abrupt and odd way of asking, but my heart swelled with the prospect. It felt like I had been waiting for this for so long, though I was almost certain I hadn't had any feelings of like or dislike for Simon before this morning. Either way, that didn't matter.
"Well, um, so you're asking me out or aren't you?" I replied awkwardly. "Or, you're thinking about it...?
"If you're free," he corrected. "Maybe if you'd like to grab a bite? I... I'm sorry, I'm not too good at this sort of thing."
He looked so adorable standing there, so flustered, a hand to his glasses as if he might hide his face.
"No, no," I stammered. "It's no problem." Then I said the words I'd been wanting to say all day, even though he hadn't asked the question until now. "I'd love to. Go out with you, I mean. I'm free."
I don't think I was wrong about a red hue spreading over his cheeks. "Well, great."
He turned and we began to walk together, but despite our mutual agreement that we liked each other, neither of us seemed able to muster anything to say. We were both feeling uncertain — I knew I was — but I also knew I would probably have to drive any interaction. Simon was a thinker, not a talker.
"How was the lecture?" I asked. It was a good start. His expression remained solid and cool, as if he was not at all pleased that he was with me, but I knew that he was. Why ask me out otherwise? Why bother to show up?
"It was informative," he said. "Multiverse Theory is complicated and controversial, but an important concept in Theoretical Physics. I won't bore you with details. I've been told I do that, and I certainly wouldn't want to do that to you."
That was actually considerate, as awkward as it sounded. I appreciated it, though I didn't think I would mind listening to him speak. If it was something he was interested in, I might learn something. But we were just starting. There was plenty of time.
Suddenly, I was thinking of us among the other couples, and we ourselves were a couple who were going to sit at one of those small tables to eat together, and this was the beginning of the rest of our lives. Okay, that was going a little too far. I should have been focusing on this night; this moment. Wasn't that my motto? One day at a time.
"So what made you ask me out?" I asked him abruptly. "You said you felt compelled today. What about today was different?"
He had such a quirky way about him, as if it was really important to reason out loud. I was prepared for a long and rambling response.
"I — "
But I didn't get my answer. There was a blaring car horn, a loud thud, and that was when we heard the screams.
Our attention was drawn away, back to the direction we'd just come from, and I could see that there was a commotion ahead. People were gathering around a certain spot near the crosswalk, gaping and covering their mouths. Simon and I looked at each other in a moment of panic and confusion before we moved. Of course we had to go closer.
We parted through the screams and mutters and snapping cellphones, very few of which were actually calling for help, but what we saw there was not something that I ever would have expected I'd see.
There was a guy laying in the middle of the street, a wide smear of dark blood leading a trail to his body. He was around our age, young — and dead. His eyes were wide and he stared toward the sky, unseeing. His limbs were twisted at odd angles, and one of his arms was ripped off, laying a few feet away. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't stop staring.
Something had happened. I'd known it. I'd had the feeling since that morning, and I was stupid to have cast it off.
I looked around at the gathered faces, all just staring. They weren't doing anything. Why weren't they doing anything? I couldn't stop myself before I was rushing out into the blackened street, stepping through blood as I threw myself over the mangled body, palms on the concrete.
I had no idea of what I was doing or what I expected to do to save that guy's life, but I was now face to face with him. I knew him better than anyone here, staring into his glassy eyes. He was so young — a nice-looking guy, or he had been before. He had dark hair and a little scar near his eye.
It kind of looked like a heart, etched precariously and frozen there without meaning.
I was frozen on my hands and knees, staring into that death mask before me, when I felt hands on my shoulders, pulling me up. It was Simon.
"Rosaleigh, he's gone." It was Simon's voice and hands, pulling me back.
Gone? There was something completely sobering in those words. I clung to Simon's side, and though I knew next to nothing about him, I felt comfortable there. He was a pillar of protection in this scene of horror, and that was all I knew.
"Wh-what even happened?" I sputtered.
"Looks like he walked out in front of a car," Simon said, though whether he was responding to me, I didn't know.
"Or maybe it hit him while he had the right to walk," I contradicted. I don't know why I bothered. Maybe I just wanted to hear the sound of my own voice.
"Either way, there's no sense worrying. He's clearly dead." That stunned me. Was Simon really such a cold and unfeeling person? Someone had died, and that was all he could say?
I was a bit dumbfounded as I stood there, for several reasons. This poor dead guy... I had looked him in the face. I had seen death inches away, and I couldn't help but shiver at the thought. But there was something else. I always took this route home when I left work. If Simon hadn't shown up and drawn me back, that victim on the street could have been me.
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A/N: I hope you're all still enjoying this story, wondering what's going to happen, and curious about the developing relationships. I'm feeling a lot more excited about writing again, and I hope it lasts. So be sure to give me a boost!
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