The problem with infinity

“I’m sorry...who are you?”

The words tore through the already gaping hole in Alfie’s heart. He stared at the man before him, at the bronzed skin and dark, unruly hair that was familiar and unsettling all at once.

Alfie stopped fiddling with the stem of his wine glass and began to anxiously twirl the silver band on his finger. “I’m Alfie. Alfie Martelli.”

Suspicion narrowed the dark eyes that were boring into him. “Look, if you’re here to tell me we’re related or something...”

“God no,” Alfie chuckled nervously. “At least I hope not. Seth Martelli was my husband.”

Horror shadowed the other man’s face for a moment. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he mumbled, taking a deep swig of amber coloured whiskey.

It was a fairly measured response, given that it implied he was not only married, but also dead. Then again, that was Seth all over. He’d never given much away, at least not to other people, excelling at looking both slightly bored and annoyed regardless of whether he was overjoyed or seething with blinding rage.

Alfie offered him a weak smile. “Thanks. It’s been a rough week. But they told me if I waited long enough you would come and, well, here you are. You’re so similar, it’s like my Seth never left.”

Panic flickered in Seth’s expression and he glanced over his shoulder. “Who’s they?” He shook his head. “What is it that you want? Has someone put you up to this?”

“I just want to talk,” Alfie said, attempting to sound casual. His nerve was waning, the ache in his chest swelling unbearably. “We can talk about anything you want. Does the band exist in your world? What about the pub? Are you still playing gigs there?” He cursed inwardly; the warning in Seth’s eyes told him he’d pushed the other man too far.

Seth necked what was left of his whiskey and rose to his feet. “I need to go. Whatever game you’re playing, I want no part in it.”

“Seth, please, I...”

“I am not your Seth,” he snapped, backing away and heading for the door. Alfie watched him make a swift exit, glancing back over his shoulder and visibly shuddering as their eyes met a final time. Seth dived through the door and Alfie crumpled onto the table.

No, he wasn’t ‘his’ Seth. His Seth was dead. Cold and still, waiting to be laid to rest once Alfie had composed himself long enough to organise it all.

What a fool he was. What did he honestly think was going to happen? That a man perfectly resembling his late husband was going to appear and pull him from the grief that consumed a little more of him with each passing hour? Hold him tightly in his arms as he buried his face in Alfie’s hair, telling him how he had longed for another chance to hear his voice? It was a pointless fantasy, even in a place he could apparently only access in his sleep.

And yet, he had waited, night after night, consumed by the possibility that if he stayed long enough he might see Seth open the door, pushing his hair off his face while he scowled at the bar’s lurid decor and suitably bland music. His expression would have softened when he caught sight of Alfie, it always did.

No more.

A tattooed arm passed across his vision and Alfie hastily rubbed his cheeks dry of tears.

“Bad luck,” the bartender said, picking up Seth’s empty glass. “Not everyone can handle this place. It spooks them.” She shrugged. “Maybe he’ll be curious enough to come back. And if he doesn’t, they’ll be more. There always are.”

Alfie nodded, forcing himself to smile. He wasn’t exactly sure how Seth could choose to come back; his own presence here never felt like a conscious decision. In fact, it decidedly wasn’t. His nights that past week had always started in his bed, the comfort that had once warmed it now gone. One moment he was staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom trying not to fall apart, the next he was in a bar that favoured neon strip lights a little too much and whose windows revealed nothing of the world outside.

In Seth’s defence, Alfie’s first night here had been disconcerting too. He had stared at the heavily tattooed bartender in mounting panic when she had assured him that his late husband, or at least some version of him, would shortly be arriving too.

Even with the logic of dreams, it was not possible to meet a version of Seth that he never knew, one that existed in another possible life. But, she had explained gently, with patient, practiced tact, meeting an entirely new Seth was the only way that satisfied the logic he desperately clung to, given that the bar he found himself in was a meeting place, an intersection between infinite possibilities. In order to be here, she had clarified, the person he hoped to see either no longer existed in his world, or had never existed to begin with.

That had begun to truly push him over the edge and the bartender had smiled at him with the same gut-wrenching sympathy that had haunted him from the minute the doctors had pronounced his husband dead. She had told him he could go if he wanted, or he could order a drink and wait.

And so he had waited.

Now he didn’t know what to do. The bartender had said there would be more. An infinite number, if the bar really did sit at a nexus of space and time. Alfie wasn’t sure he could cope with quite so many Seths, not if they all glared at him with the same distrust and unease. But longing gnawed away at him, the sickly, futile kind that meant even if there was a chance at seeing his husband again, he would wait until the universe collapsed, or his mind unravelled entirely.

The next few days slid by in a strange blur. One moment he was weeping uncontrollably at the florists when they had asked him if he would prefer roses or lilies, the next he was sat back at the neon-lit bar watching beads of condensation roll down his glass of steadily warming wine. It took a couple of nights for Seth to reappear. The version who had fled from his table didn’t return, but another just as wary was soon swearing under his breath and bolting for the door. Alfie gently guided a different Seth into an empty chair, who had staggered into the bar blind drunk, disoriented and dishevelled. Alfie’s Seth had only gotten like this when something terrible had happened, rousing the self-hatred and trauma of his past that had once nearly swallowed him entirely. Sure enough, the incoherent mumbles that Alfie managed to decipher were pleas and warnings, Seth’s unfocused eyes lost somewhere in a memory. Alfie’s attempts to soothe him were futile. He was a stranger, not the steadfast comfort who had always held Seth through these episodes, gently rubbing his back and whispering words of love. Eventually, when that Seth had collected himself enough to stand, he too made his escape.

The worst came a day later.

Alfie had arrived to see Seth already waiting at an empty table, nursing a pint as he anxiously drummed his fingers against the wood in rhythmic spurts. He looked extremely well compared to the other Seth’s Alfie had met, if a little tired. Alfie had been about to go and greet him when someone else entered the bar, hurrying over to Seth’s table after he had glanced around the room. The man was tall, with short brown hair and kind eyes of a similar colour. He was handsome, admittedly. Seth’s face broke into a smile as the newcomer neared and the pair embraced each other tightly.

Alfie knew he should look away. Give them some privacy as they revelled in their reunion. But his heart felt like it was going to shatter in his chest, each pound weakening the holds on what was left.

The pair never quite let go of one another, as if fearful they may be separated again. They laughed and whispered tender things in each other’s ears, their eyes shining with emotion.

With love.

Alfie leapt to his feet when the stranger tucked one of Seth’s curls behind his ear, pulling him close.

Just like he had once done.

He couldn’t bear it anymore.

He had to leave.

But he stood, paralysed by grief and horror as their lips met and the tension in Seth’s shoulders dissolved. Alfie knew he should be happy for them. That Seth had found love elsewhere, even if that was now also absent in the waking world. He was cared for, and that was all that mattered.

His resolve faltered as the pair broke apart and Seth’s eyes flicked to his, a frown distorting the peace that had settled over his features.

It sent Alfie over the edge.

He scrambled for the door, throwing it open and stepping out into the unknown. Mercifully, his mind released him and in the next heartbeat he lay staring up at his bedroom ceiling once more, gasping for air as tears rolled down his cheeks.

The next few nights passed swiftly, the strange bar absent from his dreams. Alfie had decided that he didn’t want to go back. But as Seth’s funeral loomed, his conviction started to crumble. He tossed and turned in bed, all too aware of what the morning would bring. The sob that wracked his chest was muffled by his pillow and for a brief, weak moment, he imagined Seth’s arms reaching around him and pulling him close.

The hand that found his shoulder had him recoiling with a gasp, grimacing at the bright lights that suddenly accosted him. He reeled, trying to keep his balance on the chair he had almost fallen out of.

“Easy there, love,” the tattooed bartender said, holding her hands up. “Good to see you. We were beginning to think you weren’t coming back.”

Alfie took a long, shaky breath. “So did I.”

“That’s the problem with infinity. There’s always another chance.”

Alfie frowned at her words, trying to decipher if they were intended to be comforting. But the bartender had already left, resuming her collection of empty glasses. Rubbing a hand across his face, Alfie smoothed his sleep-tangled hair behind his ears. Perhaps she knew who would be appearing in her bar that night. Anticipation twisted in his stomach, sickly and exhausted.

He wondered if he should leave. Try to preserve his energy for the day ahead. But his eyes betrayed him, searching the bar for the one face that was certain to unravel what remained of his heart.

It turned out his fears were justified.

Seth was already there, sat alone in the corner and staring miserably at the dregs of a pint. He looked unkempt, his hair wild and stubble too long. There was a hollowness under his eyes and in his cheeks, as if whatever was haunting him was eating away at him piece by piece.

Alfie knew how he felt.

He lowered his gaze, fighting to suppress the tears that welled and tried to escape. Another sob shuddered in his chest. The man with kind eyes would probably arrive soon enough and the sorrow that clung to Seth would melt away as they found each other’s embrace once more.

It would be enough. It had to be.

Perhaps this was simply the universe trying to help him come to terms with his grief. It hurt more than he could bear and he felt himself crumpling inward, grimacing as a shadow passed across his table.

Not now, he silently begged. Please...

“Alfie? Is that you?”

Alfie looked up to see Seth had moved, now standing in front of him. His expression was unreadable, although something caught between hope and dread blossomed in his gaze. The same look that was mirrored in his own. Alfie stared up at the face of his late husband in shock, long enough apparently for Seth’s nerve to falter.

Swearing shakily under his breath, Seth turned to leave. “Sorry, I...forget it.”

Alfie leapt to his feet. “Seth, wait.” He wrung his hands, twirling the wedding band around his finger. “You’re not looking for Alfie Martelli, are you?” Silence stretched out between them, agonising and unyielding. One heartbeat, then another.

And then Seth smiled.