I was kissing my houseplants good night, half asleep and with eyes drooping. Suddenly a flash lit up the window of my third-floor flat. Startled, it took me a few seconds to regain my vision, but when I came back to myself, the burst below settled into the everyday scene of a neighbour reversing their car into a parking space opposite.
Laughing at all the possibilities my dramatic mind had dreamed up, I was about to continue my nightly routine when I saw a woman leap out of the car. She started pacing to and fro, in front of her glaring headlights. As the shadows danced across my wall, I tried to figure out if I’d seen her before. But as the car park is shared by everyone not only in my building but also the adjoining one, even if she was a neighbour I probably still wouldn’t have recognised her.
Moving with great energy, she also started talking, a fact that struck me as particularly odd as I’d been convinced she was alone. Besides, the passenger door hadn’t opened, and it was too cold to have the window down, so surely no one would be able to hear her.
I turned around to gather my thoughts, and my eyes settled on my bag of paper recycling in my kitchen. Before my conscious mind became aware of what I was doing, I’d grabbed it and was putting on my shoes.
Out in the cold air, my breath misted from the swift jog down stairs, and I felt an illicit thrill at doing something so out of my routine. I circled round to the bins, giving them a wide berth, the better to hear what the woman was saying.
“But you’re not supposed to come now. It’s too early.”
I still couldn’t see anyone with her.
“Years too early,” she hissed, lowering her voice.
I realised I’d gone about it all wrong. It was obvious now I should have kept myself hidden, giving myself time to truly get a sense of what was going on. Was it too late to start over?
Recycling bag now empty, I returned to the front, threw it inside, and made a show of loudly closing the door. I quietened my breathing and tiptoed into the bushes.
“…at least six years until I meet you, and even then just as a passing encounter.”
What on earth was she talking about? I settled in for the long haul, grateful for my thick cardigan.
“Eight years before we actually go on a date.”
There was no response, no indication that anyone else was around. An ant started crawling up my leg, and I wondered why the hell I wasn’t upstairs in bed.
“Who are you?” came a voice. “And why are you shouting at me?”
A chill went down my spine.
The woman by the car stopped pacing. I followed her line of vision, and there, if I traced the perimeter of the car park all the way round from where I stood, was the faintest gleam of eyes.
“Who am I? This is maybe the fifth time you’ve come to me…”
“Have I? I don’t even know where I am. How do you know me?”
“The mystic,” said the woman.
The apparition narrowed her eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Emma. And we’re going to date in eight years.”
For some reason, I suddenly felt a whole lot less scared, which was a mistake, as it made me relax. I shifted my weight and stepped on some dry leaves.
“Who was that?” Emma whipped her head round, scanning the area.
“How do you know it wasn’t an animal?”
“It wasn’t.”
“Okay, so you know who I am and you know that the noise wasn’t an animal. Who was it then?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t ask.”
“I don’t know if I want to date you in eight years’ time.”
“I don’t think you should either.” I stepped out from the bushes.
Emma screamed, then, “Oh, thank God, a woman. Wait… are you?”
The apparition raised her eyebrows. “Nice queer alliance there.”
“Yes and no,” I answered, feeling the scars on my chest tingle as I crossed my arms. “Can I ask exactly what’s going on?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Look, my name’s Max and I live just up there. I was throwing out my rubbish…”
Emma looked at my apartment window, looked at the ghostly presence, then sighed. “Rosie has followed me home. And now you seem to be stalking me. It’s not been a good evening.”
“Yet you still want to date me in eight years?”
“Let me ask about that.”
“Why should I field questions from a creep in the bushes?”
“I’m in the bushes, too.”
“Yeah, why are you in the bushes?” I asked. “Can I get a run down of what’s happened from the very beginning?”
Emma let out another sigh, turned off the headlights and sat on the car bonnet. In the dark, Rosie’s whole outline became visible.
“Okay, but don’t come within a two-metre radius!”
Not knowing what else to do, I sat down on the tarmac, dirtying my favourite tracksuit bottoms.
“And another thing: you’re not allowed to laugh or even comment on anything I say.”
“Is that directed at me too?”
“Yes, both of you.”
Rosie and I exchanged a glance and she seemed to gain even more solidity.
“Right, so it started when I went to a mystic seven months ago.”
“What exactly does a mystic do?”
“Rosie, no commenting! The mystic said she could see someone standing behind me, a woman who would be a great presence in my life. I turned around and there you were, in the room with us.”
“I thought mystics could only see dead people.”
“I thought you didn’t know what a mystic is.”
“Do you remember that too, Rosie?”
“Oh, now everyone’s interrupting!”
“I can’t even remember what happened today.”
“This is the longest I’ve ever seen you for. Are you trying to tell me something?”
“I was upstairs. No, hang on.” Rosie closed her eyes. “Yeah, I was upstairs. I was reading. But I felt a little light-headed and went to get a glass of water.”
I gasped. “Do you often feel light-headed?”
“I have in the last six months or so.”
“Are you sure it hasn’t been seven months?”
Emma glared at me.
Rosie paused for a moment, her outline flickering. “I don’t know. Why?”
“You’re not dead, are you?”
“Max!”
“I don’t think I am. This does feel a bit like purgatory though.”
“I don’t think you are either. I think every time you faint you appear to Emma.”
“Then why can you see me?”
“Maybe because I interrupted your conversation…”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Or maybe because it’s urgent. How long do these fainting spells last?”
“Less than a minute. Usually much less — twenty seconds, ten seconds.”
“And you said you were upstairs?”
Emma jumped off the car. “Oh my God, you banged your head! You were walking down the stairs to get some water, then you fainted and banged your head. You’ve been unconscious this whole time. Get in the car, lads!”
Rosie paused for a moment, then obediently drifted through the front passenger door.
I hesitated.
“I’m revoking the two-metre rule. Get in!”
Emma settled in the driver’s seat and turned the headlights back on. “Okay, where do you live?”
Rosie looked into the distance. “No, I don’t think I was at home. The stairs…”
Emma started driving, more to feel proactive than anything else. “I’m not letting my girlfriend die six years before I even meet her. Think!”
“That’s right! I was cat-sitting. Mel and Sonia are away.”
“So, where do they live?”
“I don’t know. I usually get the bus there.”
“Bloody hell. What suburb?”
When we eventually got to the house, Emma was so full of energy she leapt out of the car again. “Come on!”
“I can’t go in,” Rosie whispered to me. “I can’t see myself like that. It’d be too weird.”
Emma ran back, catching the last word. “Weird? But you have to!”
“Just try not to look at yourself.”
Emma coaxed Rosie to the front door, and we all shuffled in. Two cats, one black and one ginger, stood at our feet, purring imploringly.
I was about to kneel down and stroke them when Emma hissed “I see you!”
Rosie followed Emma’s gaze and floated over to her own unconscious body. “Fascinating. I thought I’d be freaked out, but…”
“Wait!” Emma took a step forward. “We need to form a plan. You can’t see me when you wake up. You’d be too confused. Plus, it’ll mess with fate.”
“Is she allowed to see me?”
“No.”
“Will I wake up as soon as I re-enter my body?”
“I don’t know. How has it worked the other times?”
“I really don’t know. I think I just wake up naturally.”
“But you don’t remember anything, do you? You don’t remember seeing me all those other times?”
“Is there any blood?” I edged closer. The cats had returned to the body, where they’d seemingly spent most of the evening, pawing at it and mewing mournfully.
“Oh God, please no.” Emma tiptoed closer, turning her gaze from ghostly Rosie to bodily one. The latter was slumped, head lower than the legs. “I can’t see any blood, but if you haven’t woken up yet, you’re probably injured badly enough that you won’t wake up without a little help.”
I assessed the situation. “We need to open the door.”
“Why?”
“If you don’t want her seeing us, we need to run as soon as she’s revived.”
“Right. How can we do this?”
“It’s best not to touch her. I’ll go and get a glass of water to throw in her face.”
“Will that work?”
“I don’t know. It does in the movies.”
“Wait, you don’t want to get your fingerprints on anything.”
Rosie showed me to the kitchen, and I pulled the sleeves of my cardigan over my hands before filling a glass with water. I came back and held it out to Emma.
“You do it. Just let me clean my fingerprints off the door handles.” After she’d busied herself doing both sides, she said, “Okay, on three. One…”
“Hang on a sec. Rosie, get back in your body.”
She looked at me, unsure.
“Just mimic your posture down there.”
Two Rosies became one.
Emma inhaled. “One…”
I threw the glass.
The cats scrambled.
Rosie stirred.
“Quick! Get in the car!”
We ran outside, me slamming the front door with my sleeve still over my hand.
* * *
11 years later
“Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
“There’s something… there’s something about you.”
“Thanks.”
“But also, you looked at me like you know me.”
“Maybe I’ve heard of you.”
“From Mel? Is it Mel that you know, or Sonia?”
“Both, actually.”
“I haven’t seen you at any of their parties before.”
“I only met them recently. I made the stained-glass window for their shed.”
“So you’re Max?”
“I am. And you’re Rosie. Been to many of their parties then?”
“Yeah, I’ve known them ages. I even catsit when they go away.”
“How old are their cats?”
“Oh, they’ve had loads over the years. I’ve looked after so many I can’t remember when they got each one.”
“They must really trust you.”
“I’ve never given them any reason not to. Although — and don’t tell anyone this — one time I fainted.”
“Here?”
“Yeah, it was so weird. The last thing I remember is walking down the stairs for some water. When I came to, nothing made sense. I’d fallen head first, like I was still making my way down. But there was an empty glass by my hand and water all over my face, as if I’d been to the kitchen and was going back upstairs.”
“Spooky.”
“Yeah. To this day, I think the cats did it.”
“Did what?”
“Got the water. Tumbled it over me.”
“Pretty cool cats.”
“I know! I told my girlfriend that story, and she smiled smugly like I was some gullible child.”
“Is your girlfriend here today?”
“Emma? No. We broke up a few months ago.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be, it was long overdue. There’s another strange thing about my story now that I think about it.”
“What?”
“When I woke up, the house smelt exactly like your shampoo.”
