Every Day is Wednesday

I am walking on the beach, the air is crisp and cold, the frigid water laps at my bare feet. I wrap my arms around myself and shiver. The silver beams of the moonlight turn the sand into glass and I feel myself gliding across it towards the dark silhouette in front of me. I can't tell who it is, I can't make out any features. Is this a man or a woman? Is it even human?

The closer I get the larger they become and I can feel my heart pounding against my chest. I want to stop myself, I want to run away but I've lost control of my legs. I'm only about 30 feet away now and it is towering over me, I crane my neck to see what it is. My blue eyes meet eyes equally as blue. I shiver again and notice that the silhouette is shivering too. The silhouette opens its mouth and thick, white goo spews out, enveloping my naked body. I scream and it screams in response. I'm fighting, struggling against the goo as it wraps itself tighter and tighter around my body, squeezing the air out, turning my screams into feeble cries. The silhouette continues to scream and the sound feels my head.

"What the hell?" I hear and try to turn towards the sound but find that I can't move.

"What the hell, Cyn!" my sister yells as she slaps me, waking me from my nightmare and turning off my alarm. I almost fall out of my bed, the blankets are so tangled around me.

"Wait... what...?" I ask, confused. I blink rapidly, my eyes slowly adjust to the light. I look around to find myself in my room and breathe a sigh of relief.

"Your stupid alarm has been going off for 20 minutes. Jeez. Why do you bother setting it if you don’t even bother waking up when it goes off? I’m going to go to the cafe,” she rolls her eyes as she grumbles through our room. 

I’m still lying in bed, shaken by the dream. It felt so real and so… familiar. 

“Coming with? Going to work? Spending all day in bed again?”

“Huh?” I ask, confused. 

She looks at me sadly. “Nothing. I’m heading out. Text me if you need me to bring you anything back. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She leaves, slamming the door behind her. 

I crawl out of my bed and make my way to the bathroom. It’s clear which side is hers, much like in our room. Ash is neat to the point of obsession while I, on the other hand, operate like a whirlwind. Her neutral-toned make-up is neatly displayed in cosmetic containers, hair and skin products arranged by height on tiny DIY shelves. My eyeliner and lipstick are peaking out from behind the large jar of gel which stands next to my half-empty bottle of body oil that really doubles for my hair as well. 

I stare at myself in the mirror for a few minutes, blue and empty. My short curls are all over the place and frame a thin face. I look like a mess. I sigh and head to the shower, knocking the newspaper off the sink in the process. Ash insists on reading the newspaper in the bathroom every morning. I pick it up and notice the date - Wednesday, March 27. I shiver without knowing why. This moment felt eerily familiar. Like deja vu. 

I step into the shower and let the water hit me in the face. I start to cry, not knowing why. It feels like the water is punishing me, every drop a reminder of something… I quickly shower and get out, wrapping myself in a towel and padding downstairs. 

I pour myself some coffee from the pot Ashley made, no doubt for me. I turn to the fridge and grab a slice of cold pizza, knocking over the bottle of mustard. 

“Such a… klutz…” my voice trails off. Again, this feels eerily familiar. Deja vu again? I shake it off and take my pizza and coffee upstairs. I get into my room just to hear my phone ringing. 

“Cynthia? It’s Brady. I’m just checking in to find out if we should expect you today? You never responded to my email. Or text. Or voice messages…”

“Uh, Brady…” I feel so confused. Who the hell is Brady?

“Your… boss. You know what, never mind. I’d already arranged for someone to take your shift but you can’t keep doing this, Cynthia, seriously. I know you’re going through a tough time but if you need a break just talk to HR, we can arrange for that. This is seriously unprofessional.”

“I… I’m sorry,” I respond, blankly. I can feel my palms sweating, there’s a rushing sound in my head. I shiver and reach for my blanket, noticing a small tattoo on my wrist. Wednesday. Just one word written in black with splashes of colour around it and I start crying again. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Cynthia. Look - I’m putting you on mandatory leave, ok? I’ll email you the paperwork, just sign it ok? I… Bye, Cyn. I’m sorry, really.”

I put the phone down and curl up under my blanket, clutching my cold pizza. I’m finding it hard to breathe, the room shrinks away to nothing and everything goes dark. 

I am gliding across the beach, the air is crisp and cold, the water laps at my bare feet. I wrap my arms around myself and shiver.  I see a dark silhouette in the distance and, try as I might, I can’t seem to stop myself from moving towards it. As I get closer to it I see that it has blue eyes, eyes as blue as mine. It opens its mouth and I try to move away, almost as if I know what’s coming next. I can’t, I am rooted to my spot and the white goo that it spits out wraps itself around me, squeezing out my screams, silencing me. 

"What the hell, Cyn!" my sister yells as she slaps me, waking me from my nightmare and turning off my alarm.

I bolt up, almost falling off the bed as I struggle against the blankets. 

"Your stupid alarm has been going off for 20 minutes. Jeez…”

I feel like I’m falling into a black hole. 

“...Why do you bother setting it if you don’t even bother waking up when it goes off?” I whisper as she says it. 

“What day is it, Ash?” I ask nervously, cutting her off before she can deliver the now-familiar lines. 

“Have you been using again? Drinking? It’s Wednesday.”

“And yesterday?” I ask again.

“Seriously, dude?” She rolls her eyes, “Tuesday. That’s how the week works.”

She grabs her bag from the door. 

“No, I don’t want anything from the cafe,” I say before she asks. 

She pauses and looks at me oddly. “Oook…”

As soon as she leaves I rush to the bathroom, again knocking the newspaper off the sink. I pick it up and there it is, glaring at me - Wednesday, March 27. I fall to the floor. What is going on?! 

I go back to my room, looking for something, anything to help me understand what’s been going on, why it feels like I’m stuck in the same day for… I don’t even know how long. I notice a leather-bound book on my nightstand and reach for it, opening it up to the bookmarked page. 

I keep feeling like I’m reliving this day. I know what’s going to be said before people say it almost as if I’ve heard it before. It’s so weird. I know every word of Brady’s call now, every disapproving thing Ash says, I know what the newspaper says, cover to cover, the news, the neighbours yelling at each other… what the hell is happening to me? Is this what deja vu is like? Because it just feels like I’m stuck and every day is Wednesday, March 27. Every. Single. Day. I’m losing my mind. No, I feel like I’ve already lost my mind. And that dream. It all starts with that sick dream. 

I’m shaking at this point and I feel the room start to shrink, the blackness starts to consume me. 

“No!” I yell to no one. “No, I need to figure this out. I need to…”

I flip through the journal. There had to be something, something in there to explain what was going on. 

As I’m flipping through a picture falls out, landing with it’s back turned up. 

You’re mine every day and every day I’m yours. Xo - Wednesday. 

I pick it up, turn it over and find myself staring at a picture of myself and another woman. She’s taller than I am, looking down at me with playful play eyes. 

Wednesday. 

I feel myself falling again into the darkness but this time it’s different. 

I’m on the beach from my dreams but it no longer feels surreal, it’s a memory. I’m running across the sand, screaming her name. The sand is holding me back, slowing me down. I can see her standing there, the water lapping against her bare feet, her black dress blowing in the wind. 

“Wednesday!” I yell. I know she can hear me even if she won’t respond to me. I’m clutching her suicide note in my left hand, sobbing because I know I’m too late. I’m a few feet away when she turns to look at me and our eyes meet as she sways, almost falling. I get to her just in time. She falls against my body, almost knocking me down. 

“Please, please baby,” I whisper, shivering as the cold water from the waves sprays me. 

“It’s ok,” she whispers, “It’s better this way.”

“No, no. You can’t leave me.” 

She smiles weakly, closing her eyes. I fall onto the sand cradling her head. 

“What did you take?” I ask.

“Everything,” she whispers.

I pray that the ambulance gets to us in time and put into practice every single first aid tidbit I’d ever seen on TV. I lay her head on my lap, tilting it to the side as I stick my fingers down her throat, forcing her to throw up whatever she’d overdosed on. As the white goo spews all over my lap she starts to spasm. I drag her further onto the sand and check for a pulse, her heartbeat. She’s spasming so hard I can barely hold on to her. In the distance I see the flashing lights coming towards us. 

I try chest compressions, I put all my weight against her frail body and feel something break. I’m screaming at her to wake up, to come back. I lose track of time, I lose track of where I am. I feel strong hands pulling me away and I can hear myself screaming, trying to get back to her. I hear the paramedics trying to coax her, taking over from me, trying to bring her back. I see one look towards the other and shake his head as they get her on a stretcher. 

“Try harder,” I scream. “Please. Please!”

“We need to get her to a hospital, ma’am. You can ride with us but we need to go now.”

I’m in the back of the ambulance. I’m in the hospital waiting room. I’m in shock. She was so happy yesterday. She was so happy on Wednesday. 

I’m aware of Ashley sitting next to me. I don’t know how she got there, I don’t know how I got there. I’m just… there. Staring at the wall. I see a doctor approach us. I don’t know how much time has passed. 

He turns to me and starts to speak but I can barely hear anything he’s saying. He instead speaks to Ashley who tells him that Wednesday is my fiance, making her family and therefore privy to any update he has - she has no family in town, it’s just us. We’re her family. I hear her voice crack as she says that and she reaches out to hold my hand. 

I can only hear him say, “She didn’t make it.” And I lose all sense of reality. I don’t know if I’m breathing, if I’m really there, if this really happened. I feel my mind breaking in a million misses, each piece taking a shard of my heart with it. I can’t cry, I can’t make a sound. I feel like I’m dying. 

“I want to go home,” I tell Ashley. “Please just take me home. Please.”

“Cynthia?” I hear a soft voice whisper. “Cyn…” I feel my sister wrap her arms around me as I lie sobbing on the floor. 

“I miss her so much. I miss her so fucking much. It’s been a year but I… I feel so stuck. I don’t want tomorrow to come. I just want to… I want to stay in this day forever. The day before she…” I can’t breathe, I’m sobbing so hard. “I need to see someone, Ash,” I whisper finally. “I’ve been living this day every day for… I don’t know how long but I haven’t really, have I?”

“No, you haven’t,” she responds gently. “You’ve been drinking and getting high for weeks and you’ve been going on and on about how today is Wednesday for a week. I’ve been trying to get you help but you… you wouldn’t let me. I’ve been so afraid to leave you alone for more than a few minutes. I go to the cafe, and back. I haven’t been to work and I’m sorry that I’ve been so mad at you for doing this to yourself. I felt like you were going to do to me what she… what she did to you. I couldn’t stand to lose you too. I’m sorry.” She holds me tighter. 

“I’m ready,” I say. “Call whoever you need to call before I change my mind. I can’t face her anniversary like this. I… just get me somewhere.” 

I touch the tattoo on my wrist. 

I miss you, Wednesday. I always will but I need to move on.