Anthology. Robert Deshaies
entered back into her bedroom, and she told me that she had work in an hour.
“It’s okay, Sonja. I’ll be fine. Can…can I see you later?”
“Oui, ma cher. I would love to see you tonight. I’m off at midnight.”
“Okay, I’ll shoot you my address.”
“Parfait.”
Sonja jumped onto the bed and kissed me goodbye. That was my queue to go scavenge whatever was left of my Sunday evening. I gathered my stuff, and it smelled like her. No blood either. Whew. I blew Sonja a kiss goodbye, and I left.
Out on the street, I reached into my bag to grab those old Camels, and I felt something that shouldn’t be in my pocket. I pulled it out, and there it was…another note. Listed was an address. Nothing else. How did this get in here? Did Sonja put it here? Well, I could look up the address on my phone, so that was what I did. Apparently, it was a building near Les Champs-Élysées. Hell, I had a few hours before Sonja came over, and she’d already seen me at my worst, so I might as well explore this note.
I was on the metro, but I didn’t remember walking down into the subway. There was music playing in my ears, but I didn’t have earbuds in. Also, I was the only one in the metro.
“Hello?”
No response, just this music and the train tracks.
Am I going insane?
The metro reached my stop, and I exited. No one, absolutely no one, was in the metro. Is there some national holiday or something? Okay, let me just get to this address and see what the hell is going on. As I walked out of the underground, I noticed everyone was wearing the same type of mask from my boss’s party last night. Was there a carnival in Paris? As I began walking, the map on my telephone alerted me to go five hundred feet northbound, and I should reach my destination. I made a 180-degree turn, and I saw the building number. I walked toward it, and in the doorway, there was a man.
“Hello, Melanie. I hope you found my note. Tell me, did you experience strange occurring last night?”
I didn’t want to answer. I just wanted to turn around before another nightmare unleashed itself unto me. But I couldn’t turn around; I was compelled to listen.
“Melanie, my name is Mr. Jacket. I am an acquaintance of your ex-boyfriend, Donny Blaze. He wanted to see where you ran off to. Now, Ms. Percourt, I normally do not take cases like yours, but…”
“I’m sorry, did you say ‘cases’?”
“Yes, my dear. Please allow me to explain.”
He clicked his fingers. Again, the world faded along the edges, forming into cascading black waves. I was in nowhere again. This time, I sat at a table. There was a chessboard on the table, and the figurines were designed to look like people in my life. I wanted to scream, but I was compelled not to. Then I heard his voice once again.
“You have been marked, my dear. I am here to collect. You escaped. Plain and simple. You escaped when you shouldn’t have. You thought you could leave your old life behind, but you must have forgotten about the night you originally met me? I assume that’s why the days have been so foggy since I have returned to collect.”
I couldn’t speak. My mouth opened, but my voice sent no sound forward. The thoughts in my head were nil. I was listening, but I didn’t want to hear.
“Would you care for me to refresh your memory?”
I couldn’t speak.
“Very well then.”
This felt like a dream, but I knew it was a memory, and I was living it again. Donny and I were in Grand Central Park. He was holding my hand, and I was bundled up from the cold. He was the opposite; his hand was running solely with heat. It was sweltering, but I wouldn’t let go. He was all I have. As the freezing chill blasted against our faces, I remember us sitting down on a bench overlooking the little lake. The water was frozen over, and birds were playing on the twigs that were frozen facing upward. My hand was still touching Donny’s, and I could see him reaching into his pocket. This was the moment. He was pulling out one of his needles and that cursed little bag out from his jacket pocket. He’s going to shoot up. I decided that I needed to tell him to stop. I moved my other hand over the bag and needle and told him, “Another time, hon. Not here, please.” He nodded. He put the bag back into his jacket, and we got up. Time then froze. I was back at the lake. Donny’s gone, and I was alone.
Mr. Jacket appeared on the icy lake. He was just standing there…soullessly.
“I’m giving you a choice, Melanie. This was the moment. Memory moves in many absurd ways. In one, you never halted Donny from shooting up. He coerced you into taking some just to please him, and you stuck the needle through. Unfortunately, the dose Donny picked up earlier had been laced with rat poison. You two were strung and broken, your life dwindling on edge in Grand Central among the frozen and forgotten things. This memory you just experienced, this is how you wished it would’ve happened. Donny died that day. That was no mistake. He overdosed right next to you. A bad batch. The wrong tincture. You left yourself there in the city, and you haven’t looked back since. You left yourself in the cold, despite you waking. Isn’t that why you left in such a hurry? You felt as if you outran something you weren’t supposed to. The promotion at random? Pack up and go? Tsk, tsk, tsk. My poor girl, you truly don’t remember.”
I was helpless. This memory had turned into a nightmare, and it was slowly coming back to me. Wait, the stranger said he was giving me a choice. Thoughts began returning into my psyche, and I could speak again.
“You said there’s a choice… What is it?”
He stood there, and he formed a menacing grin. His body was gliding closer and closer to me as I stood, knowing I couldn’t escape this. He was now in front of me, looking down, and he lifted his finger to his lips.
“Wake up, Melanie.”
The edges began coming back, and color flooded in. I was back in Paris. I was in my flat. I was sitting with a cup of coffee. The bowl, it was chilling to the touch. How did I get here? Then I heard that all-too-familiar sound.
Tick, titch, tick, titch.
He came from the kitchen corner, and Sonja was in front of him. I spotted a sharp object steered toward her back.
“This is the choice, Melanie. I’m collecting on a debt owed today. It’s going to be your life or hers. She will never remember any of this if you choose yourself. If not, then she dies, alone and cold with a needle in her arm, just like Donny.”
“I don’t understand… Why are you doing this to me? I never did anything wrong.”
“No, no, no. Melanie. Can’t you see? You did. You left. You left yourself on the bench. You left everything behind because you thought you could escape. There is no escape for you, dear. The past has come to collect. Think, why have I shown you all these things? Just think for one clear moment…”
A wave of memories came flooding back into my mind, and now I saw what I did. That day on the bench, I never told Donny to put the bag away. He and I both shot up on that bench. He died, and I survived. I should’ve never survived. So the reaper was here to collect. Now I know. I guess I lived past my time. I looked to the soulless man, and I understood. It’d all been a dream, except I lived it as a death wish. I was never in Paris; I was merely a ghost roaming long streets. I was never here because I was still in New York. I died on the park bench in New York. Now I’m in hell. A prolonged stay. Now I’m given an ultimatum.
“Take me. I know I’ve done wrong. I left selfishly. Let Sonja go, and you can have me.”
They stood there. Less pressure was applied on the knife to Sonja’s back.
“What’s the difference between a dream and a nightmare, Melanie?” the soulless man asked.
“I…I’m not sure. I think a dream is how you wish the world to be, and a nightmare