An Unexpected Visit

An Unexpected Visit

Ethan Markus rose from the sofa and immediately pressed his hand against his neck to counter the pain.

“Ow. My head.”

Glancing around his surroundings, he could see some picture frames placed on nearby tables. Most were of his wife—ex-wive, he quickly corrected—some were just shoots taken at parties, but the central image was her alone.

Grace was a beacon of beauty, simply radiance personified in the flesh. The picture captured her long glossy brown hair, pulled over the front of her shoulder and dangling down to her naval. She often complained of the time taken to care for it but would never entertain the idea of having it shortened.

Well, at least I made it back to the house.

Ethan had been attending the annual Christmas function held at his office. He left the party over three hours ago, a little worse for wears but opting to drive.

I’m okay to drive he told himself.

He seemed to have made it back in one piece after all.

Fumbling around at the nearby side table, Ethan hunted for some aspirin; the usual after-effects of a night of drinking seemed to be arriving earlier than expected.

Knock Knock Knock

The rattle at the door caught him off guard.

Ethan glanced at his watch. 3:35 AM was the illuminated response.

He thought, Who the hell is knocking at this hour?

Using every piece of furniture he passed as a support beam, Ethan made his way over to the door. Without considering the dangers of such an ill-advised act, he forwent checking the peephole or leaving the now dangling chain attached.

“Good day, Mr. Markus,” came the greeting from the source of unexpected arousal.

“Um. Hello.”

The man stood as postured as a well-drilled marine. One hand ungloved was stretched out in front of him and pointed towards Ethan as if awaiting the return gesture for a handshake.

“Can I help you?” Ethan opted to keep his hand by his side, the other currently holding his weight against the door.

“On the contrary, Mr. Markus. I am actually here to help you.” The man lifted his gloved hand slightly to show a brown developed clutched by the black leather.

“Isn’t it a little late to be making deliveries, Mr…”

“My friends call me Original, and I must say, in my line of work, lateness isn’t really an issue.”

Ethan stared at the man, trying to decide if this was some kind of holiday prank, or more likely, was he still sleeping.

“Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Original, but it’s late, and I have to get up for work soon. So, have a good night.” Ethan began to close the door, but the stranger stopped the process with his hand now gloved once more. “Excuse me.”

“I’m sorry to have to be so forward, Mr. Markus, but I must insist that we speak right away. I had hoped to have this conversation a few days prior.”

“Well, like I already said, I have work in the morning.”

“But Mrs. Carter gave everyone the remainder of the week off.”

This was true. As a reward for the division’s excellent quarter, the big cats had authorized an early start to the festive break. Carter certainly played the hero, acting like it was her decision, but everyone knew how the company ran, and an order like that needed to come from higher up.

Dodging the lie he had been caught in, “So you work at the firm. Is that why you’re here?”

“No. My attendance here is related solely to you. Quite a personal matter if I was to be so blunt.” The stranger lifted his hand once more to show the envelope he was carrying.

Ethan reached out to collect it, but the man pulled his arm back.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Markus. I must insist that we discuss this matter inside.”

Ethan stared blankly at the man, partly shrouded by the shadows created from the porch lights.

“Well, I’m not letting some stranger into my house, so if you don’t want to give me the letter, that’s fine. I’m going back to bed.”

Once more, the visitor resisted Ethan’s attempts to close the door.

“Forgive me for the forwardness, Ethan. This is something we really must discuss now.”

Either by the will of wanting this man away from his door or unconscious control in his words, Ethan stepped aside and directed the stranger to enter.

“Thank you very much.”

Under the lights of the hall, Ethan was now able to get a good look at the man that had intruded on his door this morning.

The man removed his hat and revealed ahead of thick black hair, parted to the side but with significant volume all over. He was clean-shaven, and not a single blemish marred his white skin. Although he didn’t quite have the chiseled jawline of those typically found in modeling houses, no one could be surprised to see this man’s portrait alongside them.

“Right, so what’s this all about?” Ethan enquired, quickly realizing he had never found that aspirin he was previously searching for.

“May we take a seat,” hand outstretched towards the seating area.

Ethan exhaled a deep sigh and lead them into the room. He opted to collapse back onto the couch from where he had just awoken but directed his guest to one of the leather seats opposite.

“Thank you, Mr. Markus. Or Ethan? Sorry, I never know quite how formal to be in situations such as these.”

“Ethan’s fine.”

The man took a seat and placed the envelope on the glass coffee table that was separating them. Similar to how Ethan had just awoken, the guest began taking in the sights of the room and, just as before, stopped on the solo image of Grace.

Is that what this is about. Grace?

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Ah, straight to business, perfect.” The man straightened the envelope on the desk, so it sat perfectly straight between the two men. “Tell me, Ethan. Did you consider yourself to be a good person?”

Looking up at the man, Ethan furrowed his brows in confusion. “Look, what the hell is this?”

“Apologies. Apologies. I simply wanted to get an understanding of you.”

“Well, you don’t need to understand me, okay. So tell me what this about or give me the damn letter.”

“Not a letter Ethan. Words on paper, yes, but far, far, more important.”

“So, what is it?”
“Let’s just say this envelope contains both your past and your future.”

Ethan was getting fed up with the games. 

“Look, I don’t even know why I’m entertaining this. Either tell me what you’re doing here or get the hell out.”

The man had dealt with enough of these situations that he knew when to step back and when to press on. This was one of the times that pressing was necessary.

“Ethan. I do not mean to cause you any annoyance. I simply wished to…Well, never mind.”

“So, can I have the envelope, please?” The please was pushed out more petulant than sincere, but he did that deliberately.

The man scanned Ethan one additional time. “Of course.” He began to slide the packet towards him, stopping once more to ask, “Did you consider yourself to be a good person?”

“What kind of question is that to ask someone you don’t know?”

The man pushed the envelope closer towards Ethan, who met it in his grip and pulled it the remainder of the way.

“I believe I know you better than you might assume, Ethan.”

Taking the envelope in his hands, Ethan ripped the seal and pulled out a collection of individual papers he now held in his hands. Fanning through them, he saw newspaper clippings, some were detailing a fatal car crash, and another was an obituary post for a woman named Margaret; it appears she was the one the newspapers were referring to.

Pushing them to the side, Ethan found medical records for the same woman—surely these should be confidential. According to the EMT’s notes, the woman was transported to the nearby hospital, but she had died on the way.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I think you have the wrong guy. I’ve never heard of this woman.”

"I assure you, I have the correct person Ethan. You did meet Margaret briefly. If you could check the envelope, there is one final sheet for you.”

Ethan, confused, picked up the envelope and reached in for the document. It was yellow under the ceiling light and completed with immaculate calligraphy.

“Well, this must be some kind of a joke,” Ethan said after reading the document.

“I assure you, Mr. Markus,” formality returned, “The document is correct.”

The last piece of paper, dated December 19th, the day after the party, was a death certificate for Ethan.

“How can this be accurate,” glancing back at his watch to see it now illuminated 3:49 AM,” The 19th has just started.”

“Mr. Markus, today is December 28th; you passed over one week ago.”

“Woah, wait a minute. What do you mean I passed?”

The man pushed the newspaper clippings back towards Ethan, and he dropped the death notice to look at them again.

A fatal car crash outside Tamley’s department store yesterday has left two people dead and a third in critical condition. Early reports show that Mrs. Margaret Blythe of Centerment Street was hit by an oncoming vehicle that had failed to halt at a stop sign. The driver, Mr. Ethan Markus, apparently intoxicated, was pronounced dead at the scene. Mrs. Blythe died during transit to The Grace Of St Mary’s Hospital in nearby Treder. Mrs. Blythe’s daughter, who was also in the vehicle, remains in critical condition. 

Ethan checked the news clipping’s headers. Most were dated December 19th, but one, the obituary, was dated December 22nd.

“But, I don’t understand. How can I? What is happening?” Ethan dropped all the documents onto the table, although some fell to the floor. “This must be some kind of a joke. Surely this can’t be real.”

“I assure you, Mr. Markus, it is authentic.”

“So, who are you? Why are you here telling me this?”

The man sat back in his seat and removed his left glove as he had at the door. “As I said, Mr. Markus. My friends tend to call me Original. My job is to assist people in this stage of life you now find yourself.”

“What stage?” Ethan shouted.

Did you consider yourself to be a good person?

Removing the right glove Ethan stared towards the man’s hand, completely devoid of skin. The white shine on each boney finger was as bright as ivory on a newly polished piano.

“As I say, Mr. Markus, I help people progress to the next step.” Mr. Original stood up from his seat and offered his skin-covered hand out in presentation. “I must insist, Ethan, that we leave. You still have quite a journey ahead of you.”

“Wait. Please. Before we go. Can you answer one question for me?”

“I will do my best.”

“The girl. Rebecca. Did she?”

Original offered him a look at respect over the question.

“Rebecca is currently back home with her father. It is not for me to know the outcome of her journey yet.”

“Thank you.”

Ethan got to his feet without the required gestured hand of his guest. Leading Ethan towards the door, the man stopped once more.

“Do you wish to bring an item with you?”

Without a second consideration, Ethan jogged over to the picture of Grace and clutched it to his chest.

“Where is it you are taking me, exactly?”

“Again, Mr. Markus, It is not for me to know the outcome of your journey. I simply get you to crossroads.”