The warmth of the living room did nothing for Paul. His belly ached from nibbles and lager whilst his bed called to him.
He couldn’t remember how he had got here.
His twenties had blurred into his thirties. He rubbed his jaw, tight from too many polite smiles.
Stifling a yawn, he moved to the hallway, to begin the coats and scarves routine. The usual platitudes came and went.
We must do this again.
Come to us next time.
Everything said, nothing meant.
As he handed Kate her scarf, he wondered if he was happy. The scarf was soft. He told her that, though unsure as to why.
His beloved, his partner in their nest, Amy, said something to Dave or was it Dean.
No matter. The door was opened and their guests stepped out onto the pavement.
‘It’s cold.’ Kate said, pulling the soft scarf tighter, but Paul had already began pushing the door closed, all without letting the smile drop from his face.
And then it was over. The silhouetted pair remained behind the frosted glass of the door for a moment before trudging off.
‘Carriages should be nine thirty sharp,’ Paul said to Amy, ‘Stick it on the end of your invitation next time.’
She said nothing back and disappeared to the kitchen to start the dishes.
Paul was alone in the thin hallway, his patience thinner still. A veneer of fatigue washed over everything.
He decided to slink off to bed, but as he made for the stairs, there it was, a soft knock at the door.
He sighed and turned. Strange, he thought. No silhouette. Perhaps he had imagined it. But no, another knock.
He grasped the handle, it was freezing. He could see nothing until the door had fully swung. It was Kate. Just Kate.
‘What did you forget? I’ll pop in and get it, no bother.’ Paul lied.
‘I came back.’
Paul raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes. Phone? I’ll check in the living room, come in.’
‘Not long.’
He looked at her now, properly. She was damp, misty, her hair wet and the scarf darker. He ushered her in and as he shut the door, he checked for rain. There was none.
‘Everything alright? Did you want Amy?’ Paul had little experience with women, let alone their problems.
‘Stayed,’ Kate said, her expression blank as if focusing on the word.
Paul nodded, unsure. He moved back into the living room and started patting down the cushions of the sofa. ‘Amy! Kate’s back she lost her phone!’ He shouted.
‘I’m sorry Kate,’ he said, head still down, ‘couldn’t find your phone. Are you sure Dave doesn’t, have it?’
Paul looked up now. Kate’s eyes were closed, she was closer. Her hair wetter. Her scarf on the floor at Paul’s feet. He picked it up to hand it back and paused. It was rough. Coarse.
‘Gone. Has nothing.’ Kate said. Her eyes not opening. ‘It piggyback. Do not stay.’
‘Did something happen out there, Kate?’ Paul asked, unsettled.
Then there was a hand on his shoulder, it startled him. ‘You came back,’ Amy said rather than asked.
Paul took a step forward to be squarely in between them. The thin hallway cramped. Neither looked at him. Kate’s eyes were open now though, staring at Amy.
‘Maybe you two need a moment. I’ll go to bed.’ He said.
‘Yes, go,’ said Amy.
‘No, leave,’ said Kate.
Amy cocked her head to the side, a smile playing at her lips.
‘We are all tired. You should not have come back, Kate. Yes, let us go to bed Paul.’ The words were mechanical, lacking rhythm.
Paul looked at his partner and when he looked back Kate was at his side. He raised an arm instinctively, a barrier between them.
‘It chose you. It uses you. Leave. Not long.’ Kate whispered.
He looked at Kate now, properly and it was as if she was flickering. The mist in her hair was almost a fog that obscured her.
‘You can’t take my man,’ Amy laughed in a way he hadn’t heard before.
Now he looked at her. She just stared, the polite smile he knew barely hid her disdain. But it wasn’t that, which landed deep within the heart of him. No, it was that she didn’t blink. He stared at her and a question came to the fore.
How did I get here?
‘Carriages. Time to leave Kate.’ Amy’s voice almost sing-song.
Kate did nothing, she did not move. Yet Paul knew it to be her who opened the door. It swung open and outside was pitch black, an inky nothing.
‘Leave. Not long without.’ Kate whispered to Paul. The sentence broken but insistent.
Amy was now at Paul’s side. Her hands on his arm. Her mouth close to his ear.
‘Time to choose. We are awfully tired. We can do absolutely nothing tomorrow and the day after, all the time, if you like?’
If you like? Paul looked outside. For a moment he wanted to leave. But he felt sick, tired, ready for bed.
No, he did like. Hang on. He didn’t use to like.
How did he get here?
He said it out loud. But instead of an answer, he found himself walking, step after step, toward the stairs. His choice made, forever.
He saw Kate bow, shuffle backwards and out into the night. The door closing behind her. No silhouette, no noise. No scarf on the floor.
The house breathed in silence, as Amy followed him upstairs and shut the bedroom door.
Carriages come for us all. Whether we choose to listen or not.
By Louis Urbanowski
Stories by Louis Urbanowski 