Deathwalker, p.4
Deathwalker, page 4
“Yeah, can you come get me in an hour and a half? I’m gonna buy Priya breakfast for saving my ass. Can I text you from her phone when I’m ready?” I asked, stifling some sobs and trying to choke down the emotional tidal wave that was wreaking havoc on my insides.
“Of course, babe. I’ll just be around our place, okay? We can do face masks and watch Queer Eye tonight or something. Whatever you need. I love you. I’ll see you soon. I’m glad that you’re physically okay. I was worried you’d been hurt,” she said quietly.
Well, I looked down at my body and surprisingly didn’t find any cuts, bruises, or marks from last night. Did I imagine it? I really needed to figure this shit out. My broken engagement. My career. My life and death experience. Not necessarily in that order, but at least I had my to-do list started.
“I’m sorry to worry you. I’ll get a new phone tomorrow. Tell Isaac to go fuck himself. I love you, too. I’ll text you when I’m ready.” I hung up and handed the phone back to Priya, who now leaned against the wall with two steaming mugs in her hands.
She smiled and it transformed her sharp features into something loving and warm.“Sounds like you owe me breakfast, love. Do you want to wear what you wore last night or borrow something of mine?” She moved towards a door on my right, which I assumed was a closet.
“I think I’ve taken a lot from you already, and we are definitely not the same size so I’ll just wear this shirt and put on my pants from last night.” I sighed and looked down at myself, still tangled in her silky sheets and her shirt. “Can I bring the tee back later?”
She nodded and I stood up suddenly, acutely aware that I didn’t have pants on, which was silly because Priya’s just a woman. She’s seen all these parts before, so no reason to feel weird about flashing a little bare skin.
I sighed and straightened my spine, telling myself it was only odd because Priya’s sort of a stranger and I’m a brokenhearted mess. Not to mention, showing your ass to someone is vulnerable, just like my emotional state at the moment.
Priya sent me a smile, that seemed like she held a secret, as she eyed me up and down. I looked away quickly to grab my pants and pull on my boots. I fished around in my coat for a ponytail holder, twisted my long dark hair into a topknot, and caught a glance at myself in her mirror. My eyes were puffy and I had dark circles underneath them. Shit, I looked like I’d been through some things.
Which, I mean, I had.
“Ready, Lincoln?” Priya asked. She had pulled on joggers and sneakers with her oversized hoodie, and a white hat. She even made athleisure look good.
“It’s really unfair that I look like I’m basically doing a walk of shame here and you look like you just stepped out of Teen Vogue or some shit,” I grumbled, grabbing my stuff and following her to the heavy metal front door.
Why am I so focused on her looks right now? Is this some weird girl crush because she took care of me last night? Maybe I’m just extra vulnerable and grumpy to the world right now so my confidence has taken a hit. But I’m hot as hell, even with a broken heart and a hangover. Period. Still, odd that I’m hyper-fixating on her so much. Another thing to unpack later.
She laughed, the sound, once again, loud and dark. “You look lovely, and you did get hit by something.” She smiled, tucking a stray hair behind my ear, her eyes dancing. “And I don’t think anyone has ever told me I look like I belonged in Teen Vogue. What an interesting thought.” She opened the door and ushered me out.
I let out another sigh and tried to relax my shoulders.
Little did I know that this breakfast conversation would send my world into a tailspin. And here I was thinking that calling off a wedding would be the hardest thing I would ever do in my life.
Boy, was I wrong.
5
“Oh ma gawwwd,” I groaned, my mouth full of chocolate chip pancakes.
I had reached the part of my hangover when I needed to consume sugar or grease. I’d already ate some sausage links and bacon, so pancakes were up next, slowly chasing away the pounding headache and looming nausea.
“How have I never been here?” I asked. The place was packed when we got here, but Priya seemed to know the manager because we were placed in a room in the back, tucked away from everyone else.
The walls were covered with giant mirrors, little alcoves were furnished with wooden tables and brightly colored cushions. Young people were laughing and enjoying their brunch around us. Plants decorated the space like an overflowing garden.
We sat in the back where a little nook had been tucked behind the kitchen. Two bench seats sat on either side of a table, and the whole thing was enclosed and accessorized with soft pillows.
“I’m glad you like it.” She smiled.
I practically drowned myself in a whole pot of coffee while she stuck to lemongrass tea with honey in accompaniment with her breakfast hash. I wondered if that was a British thing. Then I wondered if that was a stereotyping thing. Then I stopped thinking about it altogether and just drank my damn coffee.
“So Lincoln, do you want to tell me what happened last night when you died in the street?” she asked, leaning on her tattooed hand and eyeing me with amusement.
I nearly choked on my syrup-soaked pancake bite at the casualness of her question. “Er…I don’t…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, trying to swallow the sweetness down and chase it with a large gulp of coffee.
“You had no pulse, no breath and then you suddenly snapped back to life. Want to explain what that was about?” She sat back against the wooden bench as she spoke.
I eyed her and scowled. She was oddly calm about this.
“I find it very suspicious that you aren’t freaking out about this. Why don’t you tell me what that’s about, because I honestly don’t have a fucking clue.” I pointed my fork at her accusingly.
Priya giggled as I worked through the last of my pancakes. I had a feeling we might be here for a minute. The way she looked at me was like she was about to drop a bomb of knowledge.
“I think you’re a deathwalker. Does that mean anything to you?” She tilted her head, her eyes slicing into my soul. I felt bare naked in front of her, like she could see straight into my brain.
“Umm…well, it sounds like a zombie or something. I’m pretty sure I’m not one of those. Haven’t bitten anyone or hungered for human flesh in at least a couple months,” I said, winking at her and trying to wrap my head around what the hell she was talking about. I was hard-core deflecting. I wasn’t necessarily prepared for a conversation on life or death.
“Ha, no it’s not. So that doesn’t mean anything to you? At all?” She leaned forward.
“You said that last night to your, er...friend? Grey, right? I mean that’s the name of your bar, right? But I’ve literally never heard that word until last night,” I said, taking another long draw of my coffee only to realize it was basically gone. I just stared into the cup wondering where this conversation was going.
“Okay well, a deathwalker is someone who has the ability to overcome death. They exist between our world and the afterworld for periods of time. They are liaisons between the two realms, and they also have healing abilities that prevent death from fully settling into their souls.” Priya spoke slowly, as if explaining something scary to a child.
“Okay, I don’t think I’m one of those,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.
What she said was crazy and irrational. But something about Priya made me want to believe the words coming out of her mouth. I do believe that there’s an afterlife, and I can’t deny that whatever happened last night actually happened. Not to mention, there’d been other times in my life when I experienced that same sense of detachment from my body in extreme situations, but never the way I experienced it last night. I also heal weirdly fast, but that wasn’t that abnormal, right? None of this made any sense except for the fact that I was very drunk, very emotional, and very out of my mind.
“What happened when your heart stopped?” she asked calmly.
“Uh if I told you I had an out-of-body experience where I think my soul was floating above you while simultaneously sort of in my body, would you believe me?” I said half-jokingly, wondering why she hadn’t accused me of needing to see a doctor yet.
“I would, yes.”
“What, exactly, is this conversation?” I questioned. “I feel like I should be freaked out but, honestly, yesterday was like a fever dream and I really just need some semblance of an explanation.” Frustration oozed out of me. I was mad at the whole world at this point.
And at Isaac. Especially Isaac.
Priya reached over and grabbed both my hands. Her touch was warm and comforting. I looked at our fingers woven together.
“Lincoln, I want you to listen very closely to me. You are special. You are not crazy. You have an incredibly unique ability, and the restlessness I’m sure you’ve felt in your soul isn’t because you’re broken. It’s because you were meant for something beyond this.” She waved her hand around in the air.
I blinked in surprise. How could she know that I’m restless all the time?
“There’s a reason you walked up to my bar, love. The bar has a special way of calling people like you and making itself appear when you’re feeling lost and alone. That prick of an ex-fiancé, as shitty as he is, inadvertently pushed you to where you’re meant to be.” She squeezed my hands and for some reason, I believed her.
“I wondered why I’d never heard of your place before, or how I found myself there. I know most of Chicago like the back of my hand. But a serious question: am I a zombie? Or will I turn to the dark side like Darth Vader?” I questioned, trying to use humor to divert from this wild conversation once more.
She laughed again. “No, our society has such a misrepresentation of death and darkness. Neither are inherently bad, and we need both of them to complete us as human beings. But I don’t want to overwhelm you today. You’ve had a lot of things happen in the last twenty-four hours. When you get a new phone, call me and I’ll explain more of what this means, if you’re interested in finding out what and who you are.” She offered a reassuring smile that made something in my chest ache a little bit.
Reaching into her coat pocket, she grabbed a pen, then my hand. I raised an eyebrow, and she chuckled as she wrote her number on my palm.
“What are we in a bad ‘90s movie or something?” I grinned at her a little stupidly.
“Not today, Lincoln, my love.” She capped the pen and tucked it away. “I would imagine Mara is probably getting worried. I can drop you off at your place if you want, no need for her to come get you.” She leaned back into her seat again. Her braid was starting to fall apart, and several pieces framed her face.
Damn, why am I so captivated by her hair? Do I want to be her or be her best friend?
I was feeling vulnerable, emotionally and physically, which is probably why I was obsessing over her looks for no reason at all. She’s beautiful and so am I, even if my heart feels like it’s in a crumpled heap in my body.
“Thank you,“ I said. “For everything.”
We left shortly after and she dropped me off at my apartment. I looked down at my hand, where Priya’s number was now smudged, and smiled.
6
“Hi!” I said loudly.
I stood in our apartment staring at Mara, who was passed out on the couch. She woke up in a flurry and wiped at her eyes. Her braids had tiny curls peeking out at random spots, and she was in an oversized hoodie and leggings. Her eyes looked wild for a second before they focused, widened, and she cried out.
“Oh my god, Linc!!”
She sprinted towards me and wrapped her arms around me. I pressed my face into my best friend's neck and burst into tears. The familiarity of her and her fierce hug literally ripped off the fresh Band-Aid of what happened with Isaac, Priya, and everything in between. But I knew I was grieving more than that.
I was mourning my life before I found out that I’m supposedly a deathwalker which was weirdly comforting. Even though I didn’t fully understand the definition of it, I knew in the depths of my being that it felt right. I had no idea how to explain all of that to my best friend, though. It felt like my life had taken a very chaotic left turn, and yesterday was the epicenter.
It was as if I had a life before, and now I have a different life after.
Oddly, having a label for this ability made it weirdly settling, like I’m not a freak of nature because there’s a legitimate name for what I can do and what’s happening. What little I know of the deathwalker abilities explained so many peculiar things from my past.
The events of yesterday felt like they were a catalyst for something bigger, and crying is my emotional release. Everything’s different now, and the tears helped me begin to let go of all the old baggage. I don’t know exactly what my life will look like moving forward, but I know things will be forever changed, like a shift in the universe has finally put me in a place I truly belong.
I finally feel a sense of grounding that has never been there before.
The future I had before felt like a lie, a deceit by Isaac. By myself. By the whole goddamn world. Yet somewhere, some part of me felt like my new path would be okay. Like I was going to be okay.
“Priya dropped me off. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” I said, sniffling and wiping snot from my nose. She gripped my shoulders fiercely and looked me up and down, her eyes halting on the phone number etched on my hand.
“Priya’s,” I said, trying to come up with a reason why I would need her number on my hand. “Uhh so I can text her and give her back her shirt, because my phone is literally in pieces.”
“You know you aren’t allowed to find a new bestie, right? I will not be replaced,” she said teasingly and wrapped me in another hug.
“How could I ever replace you?”
Mara gave a small laugh. “Tell me what happened yesterday. I’ll save my lecture, only because I know you have a lot of shit going on. Just, please, don’t leave like a reckless teenager in the night again, okay? I am not your mother but I am your best friend, and I swear to god if you die on me I will be motherfucking pissed.”
I laughed uncontrollably because so much of what she said was too on point for this whole situation. I couldn't tell her that I actually died for a minute or two. I barely believed it myself, and I experienced it first hand.
She looked at me like I was unwell. Maybe laughing was the other release that needed to happen, too.
“Sorry, I just—what the hell is happening in my life?” I asked as we snuggled into our sectional, facing each other. “Isaac doesn’t want to get married. He isn’t happy. He felt pressured to propose. And he needs to work on himself. He doesn’t believe in the sanctity of marriage either, apparently. But don’t worry, he still loves me and wants to be together; he just doesn’t want to be legally bound.” I looked at my trembling hand, noting the absence of the large diamond that occupied it only a day ago. It feels lighter without the stone, even though I had painstakingly designed it myself.
“You know what the stupidest part is? I sacrificed so much for him and his feelings, for what he wanted. I lost who I am so I could fit into this life with him, and he just kept taking and taking without giving anything in return. I thought love was supposed to lift you up, not make you worried and paranoid about how the other person thinks or feels.” A knot had settled into my chest and I absently rubbed at it, hoping the pain I felt in my heart would lessen the more I confessed to Mara.
“Isaac is so charming. People love him. But he isn’t dependable with my heart, or anything else for that matter. I’m sort of angry at myself for turning a blind eye to what I already knew. I wanted it to be him because I love him, but that doesn’t mean love is enough, or that it’s good for me. This feels like a weird weight off my shoulders and a stab to my heart at the same time, and it’s confusing but I know I’m going to be okay. I just wasn’t ready, you know? It was totally unexpected and it fully knocked me on my ass. Like, really fucking hard.” The vision of my body, bloody and broken on the street, flashed in my head and I winced, realizing that those physical injuries had already healed. Whereas this emotional one seemed to be settling deeper into my breastbone.
Mara sat there, her hazel eyes flared with anger, her cheeks flushed slightly with rage, then hurt. “You deserve more than that, Lincoln. Your feelings are so valid and I’m so sorry. I love you so much.” She pulled me in for another hug, and I ended up laying my head in her lap, looking up at her while she ran her fingers through my hair.
“I feel ripped open and raw, but at the same time, I feel like my rosy picture perfect relationship has been shattered. We weren’t as flawless as I wanted us to be. I don’t want to be with someone who thinks I forced marriage on them or who has forced me to become someone else for the comfort of themselves. I’m mad at myself for not waking up to this shit sooner. ” I closed my eyes as her hands slowly worked through my dark brown tangles.
“I’m relieved, in a way, that at least he told me now instead of a day before our wedding, which—shit. I have to tell my parents and cancel everything.” I was suddenly overwhelmed by the idea of contacting vendors to say, “Yeah sorry, my fiancé doesn’t believe in marriage anymore and is a piece of shit. Would you believe that? We’d like to cancel.”
Fuck that.
That sounds like an actual nightmare that I never wanted to have. Ever.
Goddamnit, Isaac.
“I’ll take care of it, Linc. Just tell me when and I’ll get it done,” Mara said softly.
My heart swelled with how much I love her. “Maybe give it a week or two and I’ll let you know.”
“Just tell me when, babe, and I’ll take care of it. I should let you know, too, that he was freaking out last night, like he hadn’t just ripped your world apart. I did tell him to fuck off, by the way, and he said, ‘Mara don’t be like that. I still love her,’ and then I told him to shove it up his ass.”
