Him

It had been two years since she’d seen Jonah, and as she sat in the dingy and decrepit coffee shop anxiously shaking her leg, she couldn’t help but wonder why now? It’s not that they hadn’t parted amicably, there were no hard feelings and she had always silently hoped he was doing well, but she thought that their agreement was palpably and definitively the last time they would be in contact. No matter, whatever the reason he had, and it sounded urgent, she still had tenderness in her heart for him and would do whatever she was capable of to support him. She let her wandering mind and eyes numb her anxiety.

The air in the shop was thickly rich with the earthy tones of freshly ground coffee, yet something was woven through the nutty scent of the dark bean, something indiscernible. It was just strong enough to notice, acrid and sharp, and made its home at the base of the sinuses, scratching the back of the throat, refusing to leave. Perhaps the smell originated from the trash bins in the alleyway seeping through the fissured terracotta that housed the indie establishment, or maybe the burning scent of stale urine from the same location. Either way, it was difficult to separate, and was overpowered with each customer that requested their morning cup of caffeine. It seemed to fade away with every passing moment until it was no more.

The cashier behind the counter had a pleasant voice that floated through her sea of thoughts lazily, it was sweet and honeyed in a distant sort of way, and as the girl called out the names on each cup, it seemed to produce a calm over the patrons of the shop, allowing them to breathe deeply and exhale their worries. The barista’s eyes had been bright blue, a colour that seemed falsely vibrant. They were glassy, like they were covered in a thick layer of melted sugar, and they were just as sticky, making it difficult to look away. Something about them, maybe the way they shone, appeared slightly off, like a painting that was painted with the same colour of pigment from two different manufacturers. It was only perceptible with an extensive level of direct attentiveness, and it slipped away swiftly with the faintest decrease in attention. It was more perplexing than worrying, and within little time it was forgotten.  

Photographs that hung on the walls were of distant landscapes of rolling hills, desert mountains, and cities unlike any she had ever seen before. They reminded her of the journey a character in a fantasy novel might take, one through a land of make-believe, with unearthly creatures, ethereal picturesque topography, and people who only followed the laws set by themselves. It made her smile and reminisce on the nights she lost half the clock with her nose in a book, nuzzled between pillows and wrapped in her favourite over-sized blanket in her reading chair by the bay window of her childhood home. It was a comforting memory, tainted only by the loud claps of thunder that frightened her at the age of picture books. That thought left a pinch in her stomach that quickly dissolved into the same warmth her over-sized blanket provided.

She looked up at the ornate Victorian chandeliers that hung delicately above the sitting area. They reminded her of Halloween and haunted houses. She liked the temperature of the season and the layer of mischief that accompanied the holiday in the entire month prior to the night of celebration. The décor normalized beings born from fear and, for her, removed the horror that accompanied the fictitious stories. Overhead, phantom cobwebs strung throughout the fixtures disintegrated before her eyes, but she was easily convinced that she had imagined them in the first place. The same effortless persuasion succeeded regarding the flickering lights.

When the door opened to reveal Jonah, the bell reverberated longer than usual, resonating in her mind and clearing her of all previous thoughts. She snapped back to attention.

Jonah was wearing black slacks and a grey button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway. The top two buttons were undone, and a silver neck chain peeked out from underneath the unbuttoned collar. She’d never seen him wear jewelry before. It looked nice. His dark hair was kept, and he was sporting a five o’clock shadow across his sharply angled chin.

Is that a scar on his face?

As he moved into the building, she saw the ghostly purple of a cicatrix running from his right temple, grazing his thick eyebrow, down into his stubble. Her eyes flicked to his as he noticed her sitting at the two-person table. They were a deep amber like the stone and flowed as thick as syrup.

She stood, involuntarily, as he made his way over to her. His skin was astonishingly clear, not a blemish or dark spot to tarnish his tan complexion.

Wait…

Something clawed at the back of her skull but was soon carried away down the river of thought into a fog.

He was taller than she remembered, though his lacquered shoes had a heel. He looked handsome. Her heart rate quickened. One hand hung lazily in his pocket while he put the other gently on the back of the chair opposite her.

“Ana,” he purred. The hairs on the back of her neck stood electrified.

“Jonah,” she replied softly, carefully.

He pulled his chair out and smiled as she slithered back into her own. Her feet were tingling, and she could feel the blood rush slowly draining from her head.

“It’s nice to see you,” he said sweetly, eyes crinkling at the edges. She returned the smile naturally, relaxing her shoulders, and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

“It’s nice to see you too.”

He lowered himself into his chair to parallel her, beckoning a waitress to bring him a cup of black coffee. The waitress had a playful tone and it was clear she was flirting with him, which he reciprocated. They acted like they knew each other, and Ana wondered if Jonah frequented this establishment.

The moment the waitress was out of earshot, Ana spoke.

“What was it that you needed to see me for,” there was no judgement in her tone, “it sounded rather urgent.”

“Come on, Ana,” he teased, “is it wrong to want to catch up first?” He leaned back.

“No,” she questioned, raising both her eyebrows in slight surprise, “there’s nothing wrong with that at all.”

He chuckled. Something about this seemed very strange to her, but she didn’t dwell very long on the peculiarity of the situation.

They talked for what felt like hours to Ana, oddly the conversation flowed with ease, filling in the gaps of the past two years like old college friends meeting up years after graduation. Plenty of laughs were exchanged as they ate their way through multiple biscuits and cookies, spitting crumbs onto the table, trying to contain their laughter only to end up spewing more. For a while the whole world fell away, and it was just them two, at a table like old times, and nothing else in the world mattered. Ana was happy, her chest was filled with dozens of helium bubbles, her head was bursting with pop rocks. She would remember this moment, one that she never thought she would have, but was happy to.

The conversation tapered and Jonah leaned his arm on the backrest, relaxed and content, glancing off to the walls at nothing in particular. His smirk was wiped off his face like a bucket of water being thrown onto an open flame.

In an instant quicker than a heartbeat his fingers were coiled around her wrist, too tightly for Ana’s comfort. She froze, tensing against his grip but not pulling away. His eyes had become feverish and wide, darting from her left eye to her right as if he couldn’t decide which one he feared less. She could feel his pulse racing against her skin; his heart seemed to skip every third or fourth beat. He began rapidly exhaling air from his nostrils, the shallow breaths between each dispel were unsteady and laced with distress.

As quickly as the instant came, it disappeared, replaced by an eerie calm. His hand slipped away from her arm and fell to the table, his breathing silenced, his heart rate returned to normal, and his eyes set dead focussed on hers, unwavering. He looked unamused, but she could see there was an intention behind his expression.

Confusion and concern wrote itself plainly across Ana’s face. She was holding her breath, eyebrows furrowed down, frowning at whatever it was that just occurred. She could hear the blood thrumming in her ears and in her chest, adrenaline sat in the pit of her stomach. All the words of the English language escaped her.

“I want to show you something,” he said flatly, pushing away from the table with a loud screech of his chair against the floor. He didn’t wait for her to get up and didn’t check to see if she was following him. She did, rising gingerly, crossing to the exit, aware of every soft footfall she made. He disappeared out the door, out of her sight, and she paused outside with the door open to look for him. From seemingly nowhere he gripped her by the wrist again, though with less fierceness this time, as he marched her into the alleyway next to the coffeehouse. He said nothing as they traced the building wall, past overflowing dumpsters and littered debris. He walked with purpose, not glancing back once. Ana caught sight of one of the discarded boxes that simply read “MEAT”, which struck her as strange though she didn’t have much time to think about it.

He stopped abruptly at the back corner of the coffeehouse, at a deep navy-blue metal door with a silver knob. His grip released and Ana rubbed her wrist, holding it close to her chest. The chain around Jonah’s neck produced a key and he inserted it into the round knob after removing it.

Ana was baffled, though she couldn’t seem to form a complete thought, there were too many words stampeding through her mind.

Jonah opened the door and pulled Ana into the darkness before them, letting her go once they were inside. It was pitch black; she could barely see her nose. The temperature had decreased drastically, so cold that she swore if she could see, she would see her breath. She heard Jonah shuffling away from her to the left and a light was flicked on. It was a blinding white and Ana shielded her eyes with her arm to allow them to adjust.

She stopped breathing when she finally saw what was in front of her. The room was completely white, unnaturally pristine. Bright LED tube lights illuminated the space, reflecting off the tiled floors and seamless walls, making it difficult not to squint. The room was completely bare of furniture except for one piece in the middle. A silver metal medical table stood in the centre of the room with what she presumed was a body on it, a white sheet draped over hiding its identity. She felt like she was in a movie, in a medical centre from the future, where everything seems too clean. A dark doorway occupied the left corner of the room, which is where Jonah must’ve gone.

Ana was alone, except for the corpse on the table.

Something screamed at her internally. Leave! Leave! Now! But she was paralyzed with fear. Her mind was racing. It made sense why the room was cold.

Arms hugged around her body, she crept up to the table. Her breaths were almost non-existent. She felt like she was moving without her own permission, like watching herself from a window. She lifted her hand to pull the sheet down from the head of the body. Nothing could’ve prepared her for what she saw.

Jonah was lying on the table, eyes open and milky, staring blankly at the ceiling. His lips were blue. A purple scar ran from his right temple to his eyebrow and down to his mandible, his skin a deathlike pallor. He’s dead.

Ana almost vomited, her head rang like it had been hit with a mallet, buzzing like it contained a thousand live bees. Her knees weakened and almost buckled, but she steadied herself on the edge of the table before she could fall. She felt her consciousness slipping.

No. Don’t. She told herself. You need to leave, now.

With white knuckles she straightened herself, mustering every ounce of terror driven courage she had, and turned on the ball of her foot to leave.

Jonah was right behind her, looming.

No, not Jonah.

The amber of his iris had been replaced with obsidian. He grinned sinisterly to reveal a mouth full of teeth that were unnervingly sharp.

Ana felt herself begin to cry as Jonah spoke in a guttural hiss.

“Can you keep a secret?”