Here, As Always

The city buzzed with its usual daytime noise.

I swear, I never look at my phone while walking. But… an urgent work message came in.

Damn it.

Again, they needed everything sooner than agreed. The email was irritating enough to be the last straw, if…

Someone suddenly yanked me back by the sleeve.

I didn’t understand what was happening, only heard brakes screech. My phone hit the pavement. Half a metre away, a bus had stopped dead, its driver leaning from the window and cursing me. The people who had nearly crashed into him were cursing him back.

I picked up my phone and, still shocked, raised one hand stupidly — in greeting or surrender. I muttered, “Sorry,” then thanked my rescuer, a young guy in a denim jacket.

“All good,” he said.

When had that last happened? I couldn’t remember. Me — crossing on red!

Well, there are still good people in the world.

And I’m getting old.

Embarrassed, I stared at the traffic light, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

Otherwise, the day was unremarkable.

Work is a good thing. At least there’s a salary. But it’s strange: first there’s so little you’re ready to ask for more, then you take it home and lose sleep. Lucky are those who’ve never known that. If they exist.

Anyway. Deadline Monday, and we were still nowhere.

Was there any way out of this circle?

My wife was asleep. The children were asleep.

And I sat worrying that at forty I still had no peace. Work pulled one way, family another… Where was I in all this? Was this really me? Would it matter if I simply weren’t here?

Outside was dark. Streetlights made parts of the sky grey instead of black. In the morning I’d get up and start again.

All right. I’d promised I wouldn’t, but I was having coffee.

I stood, stretched, rocked from foot to foot after sitting so long.

Dark corridor. Kitchen door half open, as usual. My eyes adjusted. I reached for the switch…

Before I saw or understood anything, a nasty chill ran through me and every hair stood up. As if a black shape had slipped through the open balcony door and vanished.

Click!

Let there be light.

Probably imagined it.

No. Better check.

I looked onto the balcony, still a little uneasy.

“There’s no one there,” I muttered to myself, remembering how often I’d said the same thing as a child.

I was probably just tired.

Then I remembered. How could I have forgotten? I’d had the same weird glitch about two weeks earlier. And afterward — nothing. As if it had been erased from memory.

Just some A Beautiful Mind stuff, I suppose.

I chuckled.

The coffee helped.

For fifteen minutes.

Still, willpower mattered. I got an important part done that night.

“Dad, I’m off!” my son called the next morning as he put on his trainers.

“Mm-hm,” I grunted, turning over. School was his job, after all.

Still, something felt wrong about a father waking later than his children. My older daughter had left for work earlier. My wife was cooking and probably listening to the morning news.

Anyway, I paid for everyone. I didn’t have to rise first too.

Thank God I started at ten.

The boss tore into everyone again because we were behind schedule and the strategy wasn’t working. He threatened to fire me if I missed the numbers.

“Martin, it’s as if you don’t understand what’s at stake.”

The usual.

I didn’t even get upset.

At lunch I escaped to a café farther from my colleagues. Less time, but no one bothered me.

I opened my photos. Long ago, in another life, I had time for hiking and reading, worked with my hands, made things.

There it was — a photo of the wardrobe in our hall, the one I had built myself before painting it.

Now time and money were tight. Well, almost.

I hadn’t made anything in ages. Shame I never taught the kids.

“Good afternoon.”

A young guy brushed my elbow on his way to the next table on the terrace. Probably by accident.

“Sorry,” he added at once.

“It happens,” I said, not wanting to talk, though something about him… didn’t alarm me. Didn’t attract me either. He somehow reminded me of the guy who had saved me.

No. Not him.

He said nothing else. Drank a latte, read a newspaper, sometimes glanced at me as if deciding whether we’d met. I couldn’t work out when the waiter had served him.

Ah, who cares.

A woman sat at the table beside his after hesitating a moment. He barely looked at her. She, meanwhile, looked as if she hadn’t noticed him at all.

By afternoon the office settled down. The boss stayed in his room.

After work, on my way to the tram stop, with the street almost empty, I suddenly saw the guy again.

He waved like an old friend.

Confused, I waved back and accidentally elbowed an old woman beside me.

“People wandering around, not looking where they’re going, waving their arms!” she snapped.

My family greeted me with familiar comfort. Same conversations, news, politeness.

Not a family, a diplomatic mission.

Better than tearing each other apart, right?

I had to finish that night. The boss wouldn’t really fire me. Where else would he find someone who tolerated everything and never complained?

Better finish than make excuses.

When I closed another finished file, it was 2:30.

I went for water, first peering carefully into the kitchen.

Anyone there?

Not a soul.

I switched on the light, took a glass and the filter jug. Water splashed cheerfully. I put it back.

“Sorry about this.”

I jerked in fright. That nasty crawling sensation again.

Had I heard that voice before?

I pulled myself together.

Mind games again?

Slowly, I turned.

He — or it, or whatever it was — stayed silent while I made that simple movement.

Yes.

Same guy. Same jacket.

“How did you… get…”

“In here?”

He smiled innocently.

“Please forgive me. And excuse the familiarity. Somehow, it feels strange to be formal with you.”

“I can call the police,” I managed, rather irrelevantly.

“Well…” He paused. “I wouldn’t. You’d only end up looking foolish.”

“What do you mean?”

He smiled again, as though he regretted making me uncomfortable.

“Everyone’s asleep, and I don’t have much time. But don’t expect everything to become clear tonight. Just sit down.”

I took my glass and sat, feeling like an idiot.

I said nothing.

“Your questions first.”

He knew something. But what?

“How did you get in?”

“It’s easier to do than explain. I probably don’t fully understand it myself. It just works that way.”

“It just works that way? Where did you get the keys?”

He laughed, throwing his head back, then caught his breath and looked at me again.

He definitely reminded me of someone.

“I’m not telling you now. I’d spoil everything. But it has nothing to do with keys. Next question.”

I hesitated.

“You said… there was something I needed to find out?”

“You don’t have to. But it would be better if you did. You feel every day that something is missing, don’t you?”

I nodded.

Whatever happened, happened. Even if it was just my imagination. Better yet, if I was dreaming.

Strangely enough, I felt more at ease with him there.

“Imagine I’m…” He hesitated. “Your guardian angel. Or God. And I can give you any hint.”

“But you’re not… God?”

He laughed again.

“God, no! You really thought so?”

“Not an angel either?”

“Come on. Not even close.”

“All right. Suppose you’re an alien.” I gave in. “Then how do I find a place for myself in this life?”

His face lit up.

“I knew it! Good! That’s exactly it.”

He seemed to think, smiling gently at something. Or maybe I imagined it. As if he too were sorting out something about his past.

“Never mind,” he said, almost answering my thoughts. “Sometimes I just don’t remember things very clearly.”

“Forgot your part?” I teased.

“Something like that.”

He studied me.

I considered asking whether he was the Devil, but decided against it. He might take offence.

“But you asked for a question,” I said. “I asked one. So what’s the answer?”

“Simple. You don’t need to look for a place for yourself in life if you’re sure that you really are yourself.”

I froze.

“But what if…”

He watched me, not understanding what had occurred to me.

“What if I’m…” A chill ran down my back. “Not me?”

He snorted with such cheerful amusement that I felt embarrassed.

“You know, sometimes it’s useful to read less Stephen King and watch fewer horror films. Ever thought of that?”

“I have…” I blurted, then stopped. “Actually, good idea.”

“Mm-hm. For some people maybe it gives them something. Not you.”

“If I cut out the time I spend on that… I’d already have something for myself.”

“Basically, yes. But you’re thinking too small. Maybe you need time.”

“What do you mean?”

I woke to the nasty beep of my alarm.

Maybe it reminded me of yesterday’s screeching brakes. I don’t know.

So it had been a dream?

Huh.

I hadn’t dreamed that vividly since childhood.

Friday was dull. I worked again that night, without adventures.

On Saturday my wife and the kids went to Grandpa’s.

“You really can’t come?” she asked.

“Well… the boss promised to fire me if I don’t finish,” I said, half explaining, half making excuses.

Two extra workdays could save the situation.

The tricks of the mind didn’t return.

Not outside. Not in the kitchen. Not by day or night.

And the work really was going well.

But…

On Sunday, after waking late, doing a lazy workout and making tea, the doorbell rang.

Strange.

My friends arranged things in advance. My wife’s knew she was away.

I shuffled down the hall in slippers, looked through the peephole and froze.

Pretend nobody was home?

All right.

I breathed in, out, and opened the door.

That same guy stood outside.

“May I?” he asked with his disarming smile.

“How did you know…”

“Where you live? Sorry — there I go being familiar again. Hard not to.”

“So it wasn’t a dream?”

Probably the stupidest question possible.

He smiled again, almost shyly.

“That? I don’t fully understand it myself. But at the café and tram stop, that was me. Let’s say we’ve known each other a long time. So I know.”

He winked like a friend.

I didn’t press him.

“Well… come in. Coffee? Tea?”

“No, thanks.”

I should have been amazed at myself, letting a stranger in without questions. But that was how it happened.

The conversation, like that night — or dream — didn’t flow. Questions about who he was, where from and why brought no answers. Only riddles.

“Shame you had to work Saturday,” he said sympathetically.

“You know,” I said, “even if it was only a dream, I remembered the thing about King and stopped wasting time. The work is boring, but I like the result.”

“Still too small.”

We looked at each other.

“All right. Imagine it wasn’t exactly a dream.”

“Imagine? I’ve been doing that for three days!”

“Let me ask — or rather, tell you — something.”

“About time!” I said, hoping for clarity.

“Close your eyes and imagine what you’d like to do. And how you’d like to feel while doing it.”

All right. I’d play along.

I leaned back and closed my eyes.

The wardrobe in the hall.

First thing that came to mind.

“I’m hardly going to become a carpenter in the age of IT,” I began confidently, though by the end I was already thinking.

He said nothing.

And I remembered…

“I need to think. Sleep on it.”

I opened my eyes. Making things, hiking, old dreams — still there.

“You have no idea how much you can help yourself.”

He seemed pleased.

I didn’t want to say anything.

“You know what?” He suddenly stood. “I have to go. Sorry.”

I’d thought the surprises were over, but…

“You know… I think I still need more answers!”

“I would, but I can’t right now.”

He went into the hall; I followed.

“How does this open from your side? I’m sorry, really. But we’ll meet again.”

He held out his hand, then pulled it back.

“No. Not goodbye!”

“For God’s sake,” I breathed, confused, turned the lock and opened the door.

The family came home that evening, tired but happy.

I’d made dinner. They came back with presents and little appetite, but still tasted it and praised me.

I finished by one, sent the files to the boss and went straight to bed.

My body seemed to sink quickly and comfortably into sleep.

I dreamed something good, but it vanished without a trace.

I turned over and looked at the clock.

Six-thirty.

I hadn’t woken without an alarm for ages.

Still dark outside, yet I felt I’d slept two days.

I got up and gently pulled the blanket over my wife.

Went to the kitchen.

Empty.

I smiled.

That morning I started a diary.

Not for anyone to read or to remind myself. I simply felt life became freer that way.

The boss praised my work.

Could have promised me a promotion too, I thought.

But no.

At lunch I deliberately went back to the same café. The guy wasn’t there.

Maybe he was from the Enterprise? A friend of Doctor Who? At least not Dr House, I thought, smiling.

Time somehow felt different.

Distant memories and future plans seemed closer to each other.

That evening we left early. On my way out, I called Trevor, a childhood friend who ran a furniture workshop and small shop.

We arranged to meet next weekend. He lived an hour away.

Why not? Maybe our families could become friends.

I walked home through the park for some air.

I didn’t know if he’d come for coffee again and regretted not asking his number — or even his name. Though with all his strangeness, maybe it wouldn’t have helped.

I was lost in thought when someone tapped my shoulder from behind.

“Not in a hurry? I think we’re going the same way for now.”

I laughed like he was an old friend.

“You’re unbelievable!”

We talked about nothing in particular.

“Want to come in for coffee? I’ll introduce you to the family.”

“Probably not,” he said simply. “I’m afraid they wouldn’t understand. Let’s sit instead.”

He nodded toward a bench.

“Going to keep giving me advice like the monk who sold his Ferrari?” I asked, half joking.

“I never quite finished that book,” he admitted. “There was something to it, though.”

“Well…” I smiled. “I read it with breaks of a few months myself.”

He looked relaxed now, as if the weight was gone.

“Life is strange. Once you know the danger is behind you, it can feel as if it was never there. Maybe that’s wrong.”

“Whoever you are, I’m grateful. Knowing myself, who knows how much longer I could have lived like that without breaking.”

He nodded, understanding.

Then he opened a small bag and took out a box.

“I’m glad you trust yourself again. I suppose you’ve already found the answers?”

He winked.

“I have a present for you. Open it at home. Tomorrow. Deal?”

A small white box with silver cord and a green ribbon.

I took it, surprised, thanked him and put it away.

Grandma had taught us to give each other and our parents presents even for small occasions.

This felt like that.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t bring you anything. Maybe next time.”

He smiled, awkwardly.

“I think we’ll be around each other more often anyway.”

“By the way, what’s your name? Can you finally tell me?”

“Good question to ask an alien.” He thought. “But this one I can answer. Jim.”

We shook hands.

“Like in Treasure Island?”

“Exactly!” He winked.

I agreed: “I sometimes used that as a nickname when I was a kid.”

We talked a little more.

“I should probably go,” Jim said with a slightly guilty smile. “And they’re waiting for you at home too.”

I nodded, then remembered.

“But you said you wouldn’t tell me everything at once because I wouldn’t understand. Maybe you can reveal a few more secrets now?”

“Ah. Right.” He thought.

“And?”

“I believe you’re already on the right path. There probably isn’t anything else you need to know.”

“Well…” I smiled. “Will I live to a hundred?”

Jim laughed.

“Yes, that’s the important question, my friend!”

“Of course!”

“The truth is, time flows so differently for me now…”

He seemed to remember.

“One day you’ll feel it too. But for now I wouldn’t rush things. Especially since it’s all in our hands.”

He patted my shoulder.

“Maybe our families could become friends?” I suggested.

“Great idea!” he said, giving me an oddly knowing look. “Consider us friends already.”

“All right,” I said as we parted. “I won’t push. But I trust you’ll find me.”

“As always, Martin.”

He smiled, shaking my hand.

I went home and talked with my wife until late. That weekend I took the kids to an amusement park. Even my older daughter came.

And things with Trevor worked out much better, but that is another story.

Looking back, it was the most unusual week of my life.

Jim didn’t appear again, but somehow I took that easily.

Strange, isn’t it?

And I could never find his present. Though later I found a very similar one at my parents’ house.

Anyway, I was grateful to Jim — and myself — for living a good life.

A long one, too.

I understood the hints only decades later, when time no longer held me as it once had, and I realised that Martin was on the brink and needed help.

And yes, getting into the kitchen without a key was no trouble at all.