I Love You to Death

I Love You to Death By Natalie Ward


∞
Music speaks what cannot be expressed, soothes the mind and gives it rest, heals the heart and makes it whole, flows from heaven to the soul.

Most people live and die with their music still unplayed, they never dare to try.

but

If music be the food of love, play on.

∞



Unknown; MK Ash; W. Shakespeare



Zero is neither positive nor negative only empty, absent, nothing.
∞

Playlist:
1. The Kill – 30 Seconds to Mars
∞

I don’t want to be here anymore. I can’t do this. I just can’t keep going through this.
The whole room is spinning. I am so drunk, but all I want to do is keep on drinking. I want to drown in it, want to block out this pain and this hurt. I want to feel nothing, I want to be empty.
I really want to sleep but it’s too painful, too scary. Another drink, I need another drink. Passing out would be a much better option.
Shit, the bottle is empty.
I move along the shelf and grab the next one, it’s almost empty too. I’m swaying to the spinning room now. The whole world feels like it’s spinning, spinning to my pain. I wonder what that sounds like.
"Oh god," I cry out loud. There’s nobody to hear me, nobody to see me as I pick up the plain white envelope with For Ash written across the front of it.
Sam, oh Sam how did you know? How did you know Sam?
I can’t read it, don’t want to read it, because then it will be real, and it can’t possibly be real. I don’t want it to be real.
"Oh god Sam, please, please come back to me."
The hardness of the wooden floor slams into me. I’m on my knees, the floor is wet with alcohol and my tears.
I don’t want to be here. I can’t do this anymore.



If zero is nothing, then by definition, one is the probability of an event that is certain to occur
∞

Playlist:
1. One – U2
2. Cut – Plumb
3. Running Up That Hill – Placebo
∞

There’s only one certainty in life.
Death.
No matter what anyone says, it’s the one thing you can’t avoid, can’t put off, and can’t stop. It’s inevitable, and unfortunately it can happen when you least expect it.
It’s been the story of my life.
∞

I was only one minute old when it first started. I’m twenty-five now and it still keeps happening to me. People dying, all around me, people just keep on dying.
I didn’t even realise it had anything to do with me at first, that I was the one doing this to all the people I loved. But it kept happening, and it got closer and closer until one day, it got so close there was simply no other explanation and that’s when I knew.
Since then, especially since the last one, I’ve been alone. I’ve kept myself apart from all the people around me. I’ve avoided making any real friends, don’t spend too much time with any one person and I definitely can’t let myself fall in love again. Because now I’m afraid, afraid of killing them, but most of all, I’m afraid of becoming attached and then losing them. It literally destroys a part of me every time and I’m really not sure I can handle any more of it.
Losing Sam broke my heart. I felt like it was literally ripped from my chest and I was left struggling to breathe, fighting just to survive. I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t want to suffer that loss, that pain, that crippling agony I can still feel even now, weeks after he died.
He was the only person I told all of this to, the one person who I confided my deepest, darkest secrets in. I was only nineteen when I first met him and I’d already lost six people by then. By the time I eventually told Sam, we’d been together for almost a year. I should have told him earlier, I know that now. Had I known for sure, I never should have been with him in the first place, but I was young and I fell in love and I wanted him, simple as that. He came into my life at a time when I really needed him and that made it very hard to walk away.
After I told him, he did take it all very seriously, even though I don’t think he ever really believed me.
"Maybe it’s just dumb luck Ash?" he would say, trying to convince me. "You know, just the wrong place at the wrong time?"
As the years went on, a small part of me wanted to believe that was the reason, although really, the evidence was stacking against me. But, he was still alive. After years of us together, Sam stayed alive. Whenever we talked about it, whenever I suggested we break up so he would be safe, or when I half-heartedly picked a fight with him out of fear, he laughed a little. But not in a demeaning way, more of a – you’re silly, but cute and I still love you kind of way, before he kissed me and said what he always said.
"But I’m still here babe."
God I really wish he was. I miss him so badly. Miss the easy conversation we had and the easy silences we could sit in. I miss just seeing his face every morning when I wake up or the press of his lips on the back of my neck every night when I go to sleep.
In the end though, I never could convince him to leave and I couldn’t find the courage to walk away from him either. It was selfish of me I know that now, but like I said, I was in love with him and I needed him.
But now he’s gone and I have no one. I’m lonely and I’m miserable. I wake up every morning hating my life and the way I have to live it. I want to have friends, I wish I still had my family and I really want someone to love, someone who loves me in return. I really just want Sam back.
Mostly, I think it should be me who’s the one dying.
∞

Since being born, I’ve been responsible for twelve deaths. I know most people experience some form of death throughout their life, but with me it’s very different. I just don’t think it’s normal for a twenty-five year old to lose that many people, and certainly not in the way I’ve lost them. I’m not saying I’ve directly killed anyone, but every death can be traced back to me, to something I did which ultimately resulted in their death.
Every single one of them.
The first person who died was my mother. I hadn’t been in this world for long, only one minute, before I lost her. Of course my birth was the reason for her death. Unforseen complications they called it. I never expected to be an unforseen complication. Then again, I never really expected any of this. I grew up with that hanging over me, an unforseen complication who killed her mother. My Dad always said that was crap, that it wasn’t my fault. But if I hadn’t been born, she never would’ve died, would she?
There never seemed to be any rhyme or reason to the deaths, why some lived longer than others, or even how frequently it happened. After the first one, I got a break for ten years. But then it came back. My Dad survived the first twenty-one years of my life, yet with Adam, it was only six months. With Sam I got five years, but it could’ve been forever and it still wouldn’t have been long enough.
To look at me you’d probably never see this problem I have, and I certainly don’t go around advertising it. On the outside I try to lead what I think looks like a regular life, doing all the normal things people do – work, pay my bills and occasionally go to the movies or something. In reality though it’s nothing like that because I can’t form any attachments, can’t have any real friends, don’t have a family and I definitely can’t fall in love again.
So in fact, my life is far from normal, it’s actually complete shit.
These last few weeks since Sam died have been tough. I stopped working for the first couple because I just couldn’t drag myself out of bed in the morning. I lost loads of weight and probably became a borderline alcoholic. I would spend days looking at old photos of us, willing him to come back to me. Nights I would spend drinking and crying, trying not to fall asleep so I wouldn’t have to face the horrifying nightmare all over again. The same nightmare repeated every single night of that one fateful day. It’s hard to know what’s worse, having to go through it in the first place or reliving it every night since.
Back then, after it first happened, I felt like I was drowning. Sinking into a pool of blackness that I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to crawl out of, or if I even wanted to. I didn’t think it would matter anyway, because who would miss me. All of the people I loved and cared about were already gone.
When I found his letter, it was a very bad day. I wasn’t in a good place and I was really, really drunk, systematically working my way through our entire alcohol collection. I discovered the letter sitting under the last bottle we had. I guess he knew me well.
Even in my drunken stupor, I stopped short to look at the plain white envelope that had For Ash written across the front in his writing. I must have eventually passed out because when the nightmare woke me the next morning, I was lying on the floor with a pounding headache, a puddle of scotch beside me and a crumpled envelope in my hands. I didn’t want to read it like that, just a pool of drunken depression on the floor of our apartment, so I dragged myself into a scolding hot shower and tried to wash away the disgust I had for myself. When I was clean, I pulled on one of Sam’s t-shirts, made a strong cup of coffee, curled up in the bed we shared, took a deep breath and read his words.
I’m now back at work, although it took another week of reading that letter over and over again to convince me to get there. I still don’t want to be here, but I owe it to Sam. I owe it to him to try at least, although I know if he saw me, he would say I’m not trying at all.
It’s funny, since I found the letter I’ve found other things he did around the place. Little things I’d never noticed before, because I guess I’d always been too busy looking at him. Now when I look in the bathroom mirror, I see the cheesy little heart with our initials in it that he drew in the corner with my eyeliner pencil. Now when I roll over in bed, I see the words goodnight Ash written on the side of the bedside table in black marker pen. The same words he whispered to me every night before pressing a kiss to the back of my neck.
He did this for me.
All of it he did for me, because he knew exactly how I would feel when he was gone and he wouldn’t be here to make it better. It makes me love him even more.
∞

Work is different since I left. For one thing, there’s a new guy. They brought him in when I wasn’t at work, but evidently they’re keeping him. I think it’s an attempt by the owner to revamp the place. The new guy seems nice enough, although I’ve noticed he’s always looking at me. I’ve stopped asking him, "What?" every time I catch him, because most of the time he just shrugs, smiles and goes back to work. The others I work with are more removed now too. Not quite avoiding me, but just being more cautious. For their sake it’s probably better this way.
I work in a book café on Newbury Street. It’s good, because when we’re quiet, Robert the owner doesn’t care if we read some of the books, as long as the work gets done. Most of the time, I’m behind the counter making coffees, selling books, or taking food and drinks out to customers. New guy is strictly food prep. I think he might actually be a qualified chef, so god knows what he’s doing in this place. I haven’t felt the need to ask him.
There are four permanent staff working here, five if Robert stops by, which is rare. There are a bunch of casuals too, but they rotate often enough that I never bother getting to know them. But the permanent people are me, the new guy, Sarah who does ordering, stocks shelves and serves like me, and Liam, who washes dishes, cleans tables and does whatever else needs to be done. Sarah is fine, easy-going and I guess we’re friends in as much of a way as I’ll ever allow. Liam is a dickhead, who I try to ignore most of the time. I’ve never liked him and I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon. He seems to talk to the new guy though. None of them know about me and my little problem, although Liam and Sarah obviously know about Sam. Sam used to come in most days to pick me up after work. He’d come in, browse the shelves if I was still working, maybe have a coffee, then when I walked out to go, he would stand up and kiss me, wrap his arm around my waist and whisper in my ear, "Let’s go home." God I miss that.
So when I finally come back, Sarah and Liam are sympathetic but noticeably distant. I’m sure they wonder what happened, it was strange, the circumstances surrounding Sam’s death, but Sarah at least is nice enough not to ask any questions. I appreciate her for that. I guess they’ve probably told the new guy too, he doesn’t ask me any questions either, just gives me those strange looks.
So now, here I am, back at work. Weeks after I lost Sam and still desperately trying to believe the words he left for me. Trying to live as he asked me to, but knowing really, I’m failing quite spectacularly.
∞

Today is Friday and the rain that’s been falling all week has finally stopped. When I arrive at work it’s only me and the new guy, who by now is no longer new guy, but Luke. We are now also on speaking terms or at least terms that don’t involve him just looking at me and me asking, "What?" in response. Now when I walk in, it’s more like –
"Hey Luke, want a coffee?"
To which I get. "Yep, long black, thanks Ash."
Then I make us both coffee, take his back to him and we get on with our day. We are usually the only ones in there for the first hour or so and we might chat some more, but it’s never anything heavy and it’s never anything personal. For that I’m extremely grateful.
Only today for some reason, something changes. Today when I take Luke his coffee, something startles him as I walk into the kitchen and his knife slips. It feels the same as any other morning, except today the knife slips. When it happens, it’s like watching it all unfold in slow motion and no matter how much I want to, I’m unable to turn away or stop it. I see the blood pool in his hand and reflected back in the shiny metal of the knife. I see drops fall to the floor, dark red stains on white tile and instantly my body reacts. My hands let go of the coffee mugs which fall and shatter at my feet. At the same time Luke says, "Shit," loudly and I feel the heat of the coffee on my legs. I ignore the burn because it’s not important right now.
This can’t be because of me, it’s too soon. This can’t be because of me.
I want to say something, anything, but it’s Luke who speaks first, turning and asking, "Ash, you okay?"
I glance down at his hand again, there’s a lot of blood and it’s hard to see how much damage he’s done to himself. I force myself to take a deep breath. I step over the hot coffee that’s now all over the floor and walk towards him.
"Ash?" he asks me again. "Are you okay?"
I nod my head before grabbing a towel and pressing it to his hand. I don’t look at his face, but keep my eyes on the towel. The blood isn’t soaking through yet and I hope that it won’t. If it doesn’t, it won’t be that serious. If it’s not that serious then Luke will be alright.
"I’m okay Ash, it’s okay," Luke says softly, closing his hand around the towel. "Just a hazard of the job," he continues, a small smile on his face as he bends down to look at me. "It’s not the first time I’ve done this."
This is as close as I’ve ever been to him and it’s making me uncomfortable. I should step away, but for some stupid reason, I do the complete opposite.
"You need to wash this cut," I say quietly as I pull him towards the sink.
I turn on the water, trying to get the temperature right before I gently move his hand under. I hear him wince as the warm water washes over the cut but he doesn’t pull away. I keep my eyes away from his face but find myself watching our hands, my fingers as they gently wash away the blood. His blood is on my hands now and I can’t help but think how true that could be, how very likely.
I have to move away, the sight of that cut and the blood is more than I can stomach right now. I rinse my hands quickly, I feel sick and I have to get away from him. The blood, I can’t stand it. His closeness, I can’t stand it. I need to get away from him but before I can, it happens. Suddenly I’m forced forward as I throw up into the sink. It happens before I can stop it. I taste the bile in my throat, feel my stomach as it clenches, forcing whatever’s in there out and I don’t even think about the fact Luke’s standing right next to me. It hits me before I can move and before I know what’s happening, I’m being sick in the sink.
"Ash, are you okay?" Luke asks me again, for what feels like the hundredth time.
I can’t answer him. I spit out the remnants of my stomach and hold my mouth under the water. I have to rinse a couple of times to clean it out and it’s only when I finally lift my head, do I realise that Luke is holding my hair back. That he’s been holding my hair back while I throw up. His other hand clutches the towel again, but I can’t see any more blood. I finally lift my eyes to his face and look at him. I must look like shit.
"Ash," he says gently, still holding my hair.
I hold a hand to my mouth, my breath must be awful. "Sorry," I mumble.
His hand releases my hair, lightly brushing it down my back as he does. "It’s alright," he says. "Come and sit down."
I yank some paper towel from the dispenser and wipe my mouth. "I’ll get you another coffee," I say as I move away from him.
"It’s alright Ash, don’t worry about the coffee, just sit down for a second," he says, reaching for my arm.
I quickly back away from him and go out the front to make us more coffee. My heart is pounding, pounding at the sight of all that blood, at the closeness of Luke, at touching his hands, at him touching me. There’s never been blood before; I’ve never had to see that. But he is okay, I tell myself. It doesn’t happen like this, it never has. I shake my head, trying to clear it and walk back out to the kitchen with fresh cups of coffee for both of us. My hands are gripping the hot mugs to stop them from shaking.
When I walk in, I see Luke trying to bandage his hand. The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. "Do you need help?"
He smiles at me then, gesturing with his other hand and saying, "It’s all good Ash, really, just sit down for a second."
I walk toward him, putting our coffees on the counter this time and take the bandage from his hand. "Ash…" he says. He’s standing close to me again, watching as I now bandage up his hand, completely oblivious to the fact that I don’t want to be anywhere near him. I have to force myself to stand here and try to still my hands as they gently wrap the bandage around his. Why am I doing this?
"Do you think you need stitches?" I ask him quietly.
He laughs softly and I feel his breath across my face. It sends a shiver through me and my stomach clenches.
"No, it’s fine. Are you sure you’re alright though?" he asks gently.
I finally answer without looking at him. "Yeah, it’s just the blood, too much blood."
"I can get it," he says quietly, and I hear the concern in his voice.
"I’m almost done," I say quickly. When I finally tie off the bandage, I step back immediately. My hip bangs into the counter and I reach for my coffee, inadvertently picking up his.
"Shit!" I breathe out. "How do you drink this stuff, it tastes disgusting?" I like my coffee with a lot of milk.
He laughs at me now, his face softening. "You need to put sugar in it, one big one should do." He moves away from me and I watch as he flexes his bandaged hand, testing it and then stirs in some sugar before handing the cup back to me. We watch each other across the top of the mug and I see his eyes drop to my mouth as I take a sip. I don’t want to be this close to him.
"Better?" he asks.
"Better yes, still not sure how you drink it though." I hand the cup back to him.
"Finish it," he says softly, "you’ll like it by the end." Luke picks up my mug with his other hand, the one that isn’t cut and takes a sip of my coffee now.
And just like that, we’ve shared something.
Just like that, I know something personal about him and he knows something personal about me. Okay, it’s only coffee, it’s not deeply personal, but I still shouldn’t be doing this. I should turn and walk away. I have work to do and so does Luke, although really, I know it’s more than that. But in silent agreement, we both stand there finishing each other’s coffees. Luke is now drinking my coffee as he watches me and I’m leaning against the counter trying to work out why I can’t just walk away.
∞

I first met Sam at a funeral. I know, a bad omen, but like I said, back then I wasn’t as clued in to my little issue as I am now. It was my neighbour and best friend Nate’s funeral. He wasn’t the first death I caused, but like all of them, his death was caused by me. The strange thing is how much his death changed other things, but in ways I never expected.
Nate and I had become really close over the last few years, bonding over a shared admiration for my older brother’s friends, which led to Nate admitting to me that he liked boys better than girls. I think I was the first person he told and it somehow allowed us to connect and become good friends. I was glad to have him to talk to; happy he was someone I could be myself with. He was just relieved to have someone who accepted him for who he was. Plus, there was none of that, I like you, but you don’t like me shit between us. We were just friends.
We hung out a lot, even though we didn’t go to school together. Nate was hoping to go to college after school and I wasn’t entirely sure what I planned to do. He was really smart and would occasionally help me with my school work. So we spent a lot of time together, him helping me and me usually pretending I understood what he was talking about. In amongst all that, he eventually told me he was gay and confessed to wanting to get to know me after he saw my brother’s friends coming around.
I laughed at first, explaining that I was pretty sure they were all straight. In the end it didn’t really matter whether they were or not, what mattered was that Nate and I became friends.
The night Nate died, was because of me. He’d come home for the weekend, bringing his latest boyfriend with him and they’d taken me out dancing to a new club in town. I’d been the one to suggest it. I’d been bugging Nate to take me there ever since it opened. As always he’d obliged, neither Nate nor Alex minding if I tagged along. In the end it had been a disaster.
When we left the club sometime after 1am, we were all drunk. We shouldn’t have been, given we were only nineteen, but we all had fake IDs. What it meant was when we ran into a bunch of rednecks who seemed intent on yelling obscenities at me, Nate felt the need to step in and protect me. Of course people like that seem to have this inbuilt detector for someone who is different to them and they immediately recognised that Nate was gay and therefore in their eyes, likely to try and molest them in some way.
That was when their attention turned from me to him.
We tried to stop it, we really did. Alex and I tried everything, but there were just too many of them. And they all went after Nate. By the time I ran to find someone, Nate had probably already suffered the cerebral haemorrhage that killed him. One day later they turned off his life support and he was pronounced dead.
I struggled to face both Alex and Nate’s family after that. I felt so responsible for what had happened. If I’d never asked him to take me out, if we’d never left when I suggested we go somewhere else, if I’d never worn that outfit, maybe those a*sholes would’ve missed us. Maybe they would’ve walked by if I wasn’t there and Nate would still be alive.
I missed my best friend so badly, but the guilt I felt for what had happened, was overwhelming.
Nate’s funeral was a pretty big event in the end. At college he was very popular, out and proud and had a lot of friends. I remember noticing how good they all looked, even in mourning they managed to look good. I also remember thinking how funny Nate would find it, that even now I was getting annoyed at how many good looking guys were gay.
"What, so you can have them all but I can’t?" he’d always ask me, a smile on his face.
"No, that’s not what I meant and you know it," I’d say, throwing something at him. "What I meant is all gay men are pretty and hardly any straight men are, so why do you get them all and I don’t?"
He would just laugh again and say to me, "Trust me Ash, there’s someone out there for you and he’ll be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life!"
I’d hoped he was right, but when I first saw Sam at the funeral, the only thing I thought was he had to be gay, because he was just so good looking.
Afterwards, there’d been a wake at Nate’s parent’s house. I didn’t really want to go because I didn’t know many of the people; Nate had left Providence and made so many friends. So instead, I sat on my own front porch and watched them all come and pay their respects to his family.
I was watching them when Sam came up to me.
"You don’t want to come and join us?" he’d asked, standing at the bottom of the steps in a black suit and tie, which he’d loosened along with undoing the top button of his shirt.
I looked up at him and felt something catch in my throat. "I don’t know, I don’t really know anyone," I somehow managed to get out.
He walked straight up my steps, stuck his hand out to me and said, "I’m Sam."
I reached out my arm and he took my hand in his soft, warm one. It was bigger than mine and I felt his fingers wrap all the way around, holding my hand completely in his. "Ash," I replied shyly.
"Now you know me, so come on over," he said smiling and still holding onto me as he pulled me up off the step.
I tried to protest but he ignored it, continuing to hold onto me as though he thought I might try and escape. We went into the house and Sam took us straight into the kitchen where he grabbed a couple of beers. He popped the tops off, handed me one and leant back against the counter waiting for me to do the same thing. I took a sip of the beer, tried not to choke on it and stood there staring at the floor and wondering why he was being so nice to me.
"So ah, how did you know Nate?" I finally asked him, after we stood there in silence for what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than seconds.
"We went to school together," Sam answered. "He and I both studied computer science."
"Oh so you’re a computer nerd too then?" I responded without really thinking.
Sam laughed. He had a great laugh that was deep and genuine. "I don’t know about nerd, that was pretty much Nate’s game. I battled through and was just glad he was there to help me out all the time."
"Yeah," I smiled. "He used to help me with my math homework in high school. I pretty much pretended to understand what he was talking about most of the time." I confessed, taking a sip of beer as I snuck another look at Sam.
He was looking back at me, watching me with an amused look on his face. "Yeah me too," he answered quietly. We both continued drinking our beers, neither of us saying anything more as we each remembered Nate. Suddenly Sam took one last swig, put the bottle down and stepped towards me. "Wanna get out of here?" he asked, his brown eyes taking on an intensity I hadn’t seen earlier.
"Sure," I said without thinking, quickly finishing my own beer.
I followed Sam out of the house and down the street to his car. He unlocked the door for me and we both slid in. As he turned the key, music came softly from the radio, one of my favourite bands. I recognised it instantly and leant over to turn the volume up without thinking. Sam just smiled at me and pulled out onto the street.
We drove for a while, neither of us saying anything, just enjoying the music and the comfortable silence between us. Eventually when Sam approached the Pell Bridge I asked him, "We’re going to Newport?"
"I don’t know," he said turning to look at me. "I didn’t know if you wanted to stop driving yet?"
I remember being struck then by how easy it was to be with him. How he somehow understood I didn’t want to talk about Nate and what’d happened. That I was happy to just drive along, listening to music. But my stomach betrayed me, so I answered, "Yeah, let’s go into Newport, I’m starving."
He eventually found a parking spot outside a pub. It was a pub I’d been to before, popular but not too busy. The kind of place you could have a drink and a conversation. After we’d sat in a booth and ordered some food and drinks, I decided now would be a good time to work out which team Sam batted for.
"So, are you from around here?" I asked him.
"Nah, I’m from Seattle originally, but school up in Boston," he answered.
"And you still go to school there?" I asked. Nate had been in his second year at BU and I was assuming Sam was too.
"Yep, over half way through, another year then I’m outta there," he answered.
"Where to next then?"
Sam took a sip of his coke, giving me that strangely intense look again. "You know, Nate told me a lot about you," he said, not answering my question.
"What?" I asked, shocked, half spitting some of my drink back into the glass in surprise.
Sam smiled at me. "He told me a lot about you. At first I wondered if you were his girlfriend, but he cleared that up for me pretty quick."
"So you ah, you and Nate were…?" I couldn’t quite get it out, but Sam just laughed and said, "No, no we played on opposite teams."
Bingo I thought to myself. "So just friends then?" I said out loud to Sam.
"Just friends," he confirmed, smiling as he ran a hand through his blonde hair.
We sat in silence until our food arrived. I didn’t know what Sam was thinking about, but I was suddenly thinking things were definitely looking up. I silently thanked Nate for whatever it was he’d told Sam that had made him come and talk to me.
After our food arrived, I finally got up the nerve to ask him. "So, are you going to tell me what it is that Nate said about me?"
Sam looked up at me and smiled. "Maybe," he answered teasingly.
"Come on, you can’t drop a bomb like that and then not tell me anything," I protested, taking a bite out of my burger.
He laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay," he said, "I’ll tell you."
I waited for him to go on.
"He thought I should come back to Providence with him some time. That he should introduce us and I should take you out. Thought you and I would be a good match for each other," he finally said, his eyes never leaving mine.
I sat there with my burger halfway between my plate and my mouth. Wow I thought to myself, Nate really said that? Swallowing, I took a deep breath and asked, "And…..what do you think?"
Smiling Sam looked right at me and said, "I think like always, Nate was right."
And that was it. That was how Sam and I got together.
We spent the rest of the night with each other. After we finished dinner, we played some pool. Sam taught me how to hold the pool cue straight so I could actually hit the ball where I wanted to. I remember being surrounded by him, standing over me in that cheesy way you see in the movies, holding my hands in the right position, his body encircling mine. It felt so good. I felt so good wrapped up in him.
After the pub closed, Sam drove us to the beach and we took a blanket down to the sand and lay there talking and talking until the sun came up. Sam had to go back to Boston that day, but we’d had no sleep, so we went back to my place and crashed for a few hours. Lying on my bed together, Sam wrapped me in his arms and pressed what would be the first of so many kisses against the back of my neck, whispering, "Goodnight Ash," even though it was already morning.
I remember feeling so happy.
A couple of days later, after Sam was back in Boston, an envelope arrived in the post, addressed to me. Inside was a flyer for a show in Boston. A bunch of bands were playing at some theatre that night and one of them was my favourite, the one that had been playing on the radio when I first got in Sam’s car. I smiled, knowing who it was from. There was nothing else inside, but when I turned the flyer over, Sam’s address was written on the back.
I went to Boston that afternoon and never really came back.
∞

Saturday night. I’m home and doing nothing. After work, I thought about going to a movie, but the rain is back and in the end I come home and do what I normally do on a Saturday night. Drink, feel sorry for myself, listen to depressing music and generally try to put off falling asleep so I don’t have to face the same nightmare again.
In other words, a great night in.
But like yesterday, today something different happens. Tonight when I pointlessly check my email, this is there;


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Thanks
Ash – hey I just wanted to say thanks for yesterday.
Sorry, I know it made you uncomfortable, but well, thanks for your help.
Luke


To which I automatically and without thinking, reply.


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:Thanks
How did you get this email address?


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:RE: Thanks
From work? We all have them. I took a chance you actually checked yours


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:RE:RE:Thanks
But it uses my real name? I never told you my real name?


I hardly ever go by Asha. It’s not that I don’t like it; it’s just pretty much everyone shortens it. I’ve always just been Ash and it’s what everyone calls me at work. It kinda surprises me he would even know it’s short for Asha, most people don’t.


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE: Thanks
Yeah about that, I tried a few different variations – and this was the only one that didn’t bounce back, so…now I guess I know your real name.
Anyway, seeing as I never got much of a chance to talk to you, I wanted to say thanks for the help yesterday with my hand. It’s feeling a lot better.


Okay, weird he worked it out; that he would even think it could be Asha. Weird he is emailing me at all.


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: Thanks
Resourceful…..and you’re welcome - I hope it gets better soon.


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE Thanks
What are you doing right now?


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE Thanks
Emailing you.


I was being a smartass, but this whole thing just felt too strange. Luke has never emailed me before. The only person who ever really does is Robert, with details about my shifts. No one ever emails me because there isn’t anyone to email me.


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE Thanks
Ok, I walked right into that one
I mean what were you doing before you were emailing me?


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE Thanks
Listening to music, drinking, nothing.


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE Thanks
What are you listening to?


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Music
Lots of stuff, Stereophonics at the moment.


I don’t tell him what song.


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Music
You need someone to listen and drink with?


Was he asking if I wanted to hang out with him? Possibly, probably. I didn’t know, but I was too far gone at this point anyway. I didn’t respond to him. He popped up again though.


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:RE Music
Ash – am happy to come over or we could go out - whatever you want?
You ok?


Again with that question.
No. I’m not okay, of course I’m not, but I don’t want to drag him into it. I don’t need him to see me like this and I definitely don’t need him to get involved.


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:RE:RE: Music
Yeah, I’m ok, thanks. Am gonna crash now. Night


A lie I know, but one that had to be told.


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE: Music
Well anytime, you let me know.
Good night Asha.


It was a really weird exchange between us. Out of the blue and very unexpected. I stumbled off towards my bedroom and did what I’d said, crashed. As much as I tried to put this off, sleeping was inevitable. And once again, plagued with the same nightmare that always seemed to work its way through, no matter how much alcohol I’d consumed. As always, I woke before the sun had come up, a strangled scream in my throat and my body shaking and covered in sweat, visions of that one day burnt into my eyes and brain.
And once again, I wondered, when any of this was ever going to stop.
This morning though, when I finally drag myself out of bed, my computer is still on and there is one more message from Luke. He must have sent it shortly after his last email last night, but I didn’t see it.


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: I forgot
One other thing, my flatmate is organising a party in a couple of weeks.
Will you come along?
The guys from work will be there and I’d really like you to come…..


Shit. This is not good. This is definitely not good.
I know, despite what Sam’s letter said, despite what he asked me to do, this isn’t good. Because I just can’t do it.
I read his words again, trying once more to find a reason or a way out of all of this.

Dear Ash,
I know what you’re thinking. That this was your fault, that somehow, you caused this to happen. Let me say – YOU DIDN’T. I promise you, none of this is your fault - you don’t and never have caused any of it. It’s just dumb luck and wrong place, wrong time and a f*cked up way of you having to go through life. I know you wouldn’t cause me to die, I know that because I love you and I know that you love me.
You are, without a doubt, the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I would never trade however long I was with you, for anything in the world, because to me, you are the world. You are my world.
I want you to be happy Ash. I want you to stop thinking you are doing this to people and I want you to go out there and live life. Be happy, travel the world, fall in love again and live. Know that no matter what, I always did and always will love you. One day I know I’ll see you again, but until then please be happy. I love you.
Sam x

But it doesn’t matter how many times I read it or try and convince myself his words are real, I’m never going to believe them.
After everything that’s happened, I just can’t.