The morning at college passed relatively uneventfully. I threw myself into my English language and literature studies, and by the time it got to the lunch hour, I was starting to feel a little more human.
Laura came and found me as I was leaving the classroom.
“C’mon,” she said. “I’m buying you lunch, and you can talk about what’s eating you.”
I considered protesting for a moment, but thought better of it. Laura usually knew better than to pester me, but when she had made her mind up that she was going to “help”, she was difficult to get rid of. And besides, I’d been thinking that talking about it all might actually help.
I still didn’t know how I was going to bring it up, though. It was all too weird, still.
I followed Laura through the bustling lunchtime corridors to the cafeteria. She bought us each a plate of the goopy but delicious macaroni cheese that they served here every Monday, and led me out of the busy cafeteria back in the direction of our tutor group’s classroom. It was always deserted at lunchtime, and our tutor Mr “Call Me Bob” Gladwell didn’t mind us borrowing it as a nice private hangout on occasion.
Today, it was empty as usual. Laura set down her plate at one of the desks and sat down. I pulled a chair around and sat across from her. We took our first few mouthfuls in silence. Then, she laid her fork down, and I knew the interrogation was about to begin.
“So what’s up?” she asked bluntly. “You looked like crap this morning and you still look pretty knackered now. Did something happen?”
I took another bite of my lunch, considering the best way to tackle this. Just telling the truth — or what I thought was the truth, at least — would surely make me seem like I was going mad, so I decided to be vague.
“No, nothing happened,” I said quietly. “I’ve just been… you know, thinking.”
“Uh-huh,” said Laura. “About… that time?”
“Yeah,” I said. Neither of us liked saying it. Those words — the d-words — were all so final, so utterly without hope, that I just couldn’t ever get them out of my mouth. Whenever possible, I used euphemisms like “passed on” or distancing words like “deceased” — or more commonly, simply referring vaguely back to “you know, that time”. Laura had picked up on this quickly — she was always sharp — and followed suit. We knew each other well enough by now that we didn’t have to make things explicit. It made me feel comfortable talking to her that I didn’t have to explain these things. I had never been good with putting my feelings into words, but Laura understood me just fine.
“So what was it this time?” she asked. “Bad dreams? Dark thoughts?”
“Bit of both,” I said, trying to brush it off. “I’m not sure. I think I’m just tired.”
“That much is obvious,” she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as she leaned forwards to look more closely at me. “The bags under your eyes are so dark you look like you’ve been punched in the face.”
I chuckled slightly at her blunt comments.
“You should take better care of yourself,” she said. “I know you think you can handle all this stuff by yourself, but, you know, you can ask for help if you need it.”
My face fell somewhat. I didn’t like it when people had this conversation with me. I was resolved to surviving through my problems and not dragging anyone else down with me, but everyone always seemed so desperate to help all the time. I couldn’t win. I felt guilty if I asked someone for help; I felt guilty when people suggested that I wasn’t asking for enough help. It was easier to just hide away and deal with things myself.
“Hey, now, come on,” said Laura. “Don’t make that face. There’s no shame in it. It’s all right. People are looking out for you. People are worried about you.”
I appreciated her attention, I really did, but this conversation was starting to make me feel uncomfortable. It always did, whoever had it with me, and I knew it was completely irrational, but there was nothing I could do about it. It was an automatic response. Any time it came up, I just found myself wanting to get away from it as quickly as possible.
“I, uh, I’ll be right back,” I said, pushing my plate away and standing up from the desk. “I just need to go to the toilet.”
Laura smiled. “You could have just excused yourself,” she said. “I didn’t need to know the details. But I’ll be here. See you in a minute.”
I walked out of the classroom. I wasn’t running away, I just needed a breather. And I did kind of need the toilet, too.
I walked down the corridor, avoiding eye contact with my fellow students who were still wandering around aimlessly as the lunch break continued. Eventually, I came to the gents’ bathroom door and went inside.
It was empty, brightly lit by the flickering fluorescent light on the ceiling and stank of piss as usual. I was pretty sure the cleaners had long since given up on trying to give this bathroom any kind of pleasant smell, because it always stank this bad in here. I wrinkled my nose and tried to ignore it as I pushed the door of a cubicle open, locked the door behind me and sat down on the toilet seat to compose myself.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. In, two, three, four… out, two, three, four. In, two, three, four… out, two, three, four.
I opened my eyes again. I blinked. And blinked again.
Something wasn’t right.
For starters, the bright light of the fluorescent tube was gone. It was dark. Secondly, there was something strange in the air. Or, more to the point, the air seemed to be completely still. The stench of stale piss had gone, and there didn’t seem to be the slightest breeze or movement in the air, even as I stood up and moved around.
I fumbled in front of me for the latch on the cubicle, which was difficult to find in the darkness, and popped it open. I pulled open the door and stepped out into the darkened bathroom. My footsteps echoed on the polished floor, but that was the only sound — I couldn’t hear the plumbing, the heating or indeed the sounds of any people outside.
I carefully felt my way to the bathroom door, opened it and stepped out into the corridor. It was dark out there, too.
My throat went dry, and I started to get a familiar feeling of uneasiness. This obviously wasn’t right, and I had absolutely no explanation of what was happening here. I swallowed deeply and felt my pulse quicken somewhat.
Laura, I thought. I should find Laura.
I walked back down the corridor towards where our classroom should be. This passageway was deep inside the building, so there wasn’t much in the way of natural light, but the occasional recognisable glow of daylight off in the distance helped me to get my bearings. My senses felt like they were heightened; I could hear my blood pumping in my ears. Thump, thump; thump, thump. What was happening to me?
I reached the classroom door, grasped the handle, pushed it open and stepped inside–
–and Laura was there as if nothing had happened. The lights were back on, and she was there, smiling at me, obviously oblivious to the strange occurrence. I turned around and looked behind me, and the lights were back on in the corridor, too; the students were still milling to and fro, and the familiar ambient noise of the college at lunchtime was back once again.
Laura’s smile quickly disappeared when she saw my face.
“Jesus Christ, you look white as a sheet,” she said, standing up and rushing to my side. “Are you feeling all right?”
I staggered slightly. I felt a bit dizzy. I slumped to the side and steadied myself on the door frame.
“No,” I said. “I’m not feeling all right. I… I don’t feel well at all.”
“Come on,” she said. “We’re off to the nurse’s office.”
Laura took me firmly by the hand and led me through the milling students — some of whom might have been giving us a strange look, but my head was too clouded to care by this point — until we reached the nurse’s office. I didn’t remember walking there — before I knew it, I was lying on the bench with the nurse peering at me over the top of a pair of thick spectacles.
I closed my eyes as she examined me. I couldn’t hear anything any more. I just wanted to sleep. I needed to sleep. It was all too much. Just let me sleep.
*
I awoke several hours later, still on the bench. I sat up suddenly, which caused the woollen blanket that had been laid over me to fall to the floor.
“Where am I?” I blurted out. I blinked and tried to orient myself. My eyes were bleary and took a while to come into focus. “What happened?”
“You scared me half to death, that’s what happened,” came a familiar voice. I heard running footsteps and felt a pair of arms fling themselves around me long before I saw its source. “What’s wrong with you?”
Laura was sobbing. I felt bad. I’d made her cry. This is exactly why I didn’t want people to get involved. I only dragged them down and made them upset. I didn’t deserve to be worried over. But still, there she was.
I heard the door open, and the nurse came back in.
“Ah, welcome back,” she said. “I hope you feel better after a good rest. You clearly needed it.”
I did feel a bit better. Evidently my body had just given up on trying to remain conscious and passed out.
“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry,” I added, turning to Laura and sheepishly putting my hands on her waist.
“Look after yourself, for fuck’s sake,” Laura said, pulling back from me. I could see the tears streaming down her face. She was really worried. I felt awful. “Please.”
“All right,” I said. “I’ll try.”
“Are you all right to take him home, Miss?” said the nurse. “He should be all right now he’s had a bit of a rest so I won’t refer this to anyone else for now, but make sure he gets home safe and sound, all right? And come back if this happens again.”
“Uh-huh,” said Laura, sniffing. The two were talking about me as if I wasn’t here, but I didn’t really feel capable of saying anything meaningful right now, so I just let them carry on as if I was a sick child.
“Come on,” said Laura, grabbing my hand and pulling me up off the bench. “Let’s get you home.”
I didn’t remember much about the ride home. I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. Laura helped me into my house and upstairs into my bed, and I fell asleep almost straight away. I don’t know how long she sat there watching over me, but she was gone when I eventually awoke.
I turned my head and looked over to the bright green glow of the digits on my clock radio.
Hello again, 2:30 a.m. We meet again.
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