Be careful what you wish for

15th April

New Diary, who dis?

And we wonder why I’m still single with this cringe… I treated myself to a new diary. Saw it in this little pop-up shop in town. I don’t usually go down that street, but today I felt like it, and I’m glad I did. I ended up also finding a new gelateria, and they had that gorgeous ice cream I fell in love with on a school trip to Venice years ago. I never thought I’d be able to eat it again! Now I think about it, this diary kind of reminds me of the one I had when I was a kid. I used to finish each entry off at night with a wish for the following day… Ha. Maybe I’ll do that with this one.

I wish the weather tomorrow will be nice. Not too hot, not too cold. NICE. Just perfect, like the good old days in spring.

The weather that morning was perfect. A crisp start that made dew cling to grass blades. A fresh, mild breeze that carried the fresh, mild scent of tulips opening lazily in the morning sun. The soft sound of doves somewhere up high. A perfect spring morning.

In February.

Alicia woke up feeling groggy and tired, her eyes heavy with sleep. The clock read a rather offensive 6.30am… so why the hell was it light outside?! She blinked and rubbed her eyes. Sure enough, the day was still perfect, bringing with it that sense of childhood nostalgia she’d been craving.

“This… isn’t possible.” She stood from the bed, bracing for the chill air that never came. Padding to the window, she looked outside. “What the fuck is happening?!” She rubbed her eyes again, slapping her face about a bit as she stared at the blooming garden. “It’s FEBRUARY?!”

She grabbed her phone on her bedside table, heart hammering. The weather app reflected what was outside. The phone fell from her hands as she fumbled, a soft thud as it landed on the carpet and slipped under the bed. She crouched to grab it – THUNK. Her forehead connected with the metal bedframe, and she slumped down, out cold.

“Ugh… what the… fufff…” Soft, dulcet tones of an iPhone alarm hardly daring to sound. Alicia woke, tucked in her bed again, her phone on the carpet beside her. “Ow…?” She touched her head, but felt nothing. And outside the window, the inky blackness of February’s winter. An ice crust on the window added insult to that injury.

It must have been a dream, right? There’s no way it was actually a spring day…?

Alicia picked her phone up, shivering in the bite. The heating was on, but it was never enough – not compared to the warmth of the spring and summer. She swung her legs out of bed regardless, stroking the diary that sat on her bedside table. For a brief moment, she could have been a teenager again, when the world was nicer, and life filled with absolute possibility…

**

16th April

What a fucking day! I didn’t manage to make my spinning class because the project I’m working on ran over by three fucking hours! We ended up ordering pizza to the office, so now I feel bloated AND stressed. And I have to go in and stay late tomorrow. Thankfully, they’re paying us overtime, but still – I like spinning, and I haven’t been for a week. I need to get back to it.

Had the craziest dream last night though! I know I joked about the weather and making wishes and stuff, but I literally woke up to a gorgeous spring day and that sense of nostalgia for the spring and summer months at school. Those ones where the days never seemed to end, and you never really saw night-time? I loved those. I blame the ice cream. They probably put meth in the chocolate sauce, that’s why it’s so addictive! xD

Anyway. I hope tonight I don’t have any dreams about how close I was to Nigel this evening. It’d be alright if he were a nice person, but he’s awful, so the fact that his pits smell like the seventeenth level of hell… eugh. I can’t. I’ll throw my pizza up. The guy needs to drown in a Dettol bath and wash his clothes. Or burn them. Either would be a marked improvement.

Tomorrow will be better, I’m sure of it.

The office was oddly quiet by the time Alicia arrived. She was early, to work on the project with the others and try to get ahead so she might actually get to her spinning class that night, but that didn’t make the absolute silence make sense. She set her stuff down at her desk, unpacked, and then grabbed her laptop to head into the meeting room that was left as it was from the night before.

A short while later, as she finished up the menial tasks of inputting data into the extensive spreadsheet so Stinky Nigel could come and run his codes off it, the doors opened, and her manager Felicity stepped in, looking frazzled.

“Right! Ali, good to see you! The others are just going back over the trial run – is the excel nearly done?”

“Yep, just three more lines. The trial wasn’t done when I arrived.” Alicia smiled and yawned. “Wanna grab a quick coffee before we get started?”

“Nigel said he was going to bring some for us, but sure – I could use a breather before we drown again.” Felicity smiled, and opened up the window. “Just in case Nigel gets here before we come back…” Alicia chuckled, and they made their way to the coffee corner.

Nigel didn’t show up. It was 11am by the time Felicity was called out of the meeting by HR, who looked sick. Felicity disappeared, returning half an hour later looking equally as sick.

“Er… guys? I have some… b-bad news…” she looked ready to throw up. The team stopped working, eyes on her. Alicia’s fingers froze on her keyboard. “Nigel… he unfortunately passed away… I…”

Alicia’s heart dropped. She didn’t like him much, but that didn’t mean she wanted him dead!

“What happened?” Stuart asked, face fallen.

“I… his sister called and just told us he’d apparently drowned… in… Dettol?” Felicity swallowed. “From what they can gather, he fell asleep while cleaning something and his face landed in a bowl of Dettol. They only found him because the laundry in the tumble dryer caught fire. The lint.”

Alicia. Turned. Green.

She gripped the table, eyes burning with tears.

Because she remembered writing that. She remembered writing that in her diary the night before. Surely it can’t have come true?! Did she write that?!

Felicity continued. “If anyone needs to take some time away today, we’re writing to the board now to explain… they’ll grant us an extension…”

Alicia stood, grabbed her coat, and left. No-one questioned why. Nigel wasn’t particularly likeable, but he was always in, and he always worked well. To hear he’d died in such a harsh manner… alone…

**

17th April

Nigel died. Yesterday. Drowned in Dettol. I didn’t even think that was a thing, but apparently it is. When I wrote that, I meant figuratively. Oh, and his FUCKING CLOTHES BURNED IN THE DRYER. I hate this. That’s too much of a spooky coincidence. Anyway, I’ve decided to take tomorrow off. The board granted us a two week extension deadline, especially since Nigel’s brother is spearheading the project and he’s kind of messed up about it. They didn’t really get along, but they’re still brothers.

I didn’t realise I’d picked up some sick version of death note… I might need to contact my therapist about this. Because really. What are the fucking chances?

I need a break. Like a nice, long holiday somewhere warm and quiet… And I need my soulmate. Tall, gorgeous eyes, nice lips, safe, secure… mmm. Henry Cavill. I need Henry Cavill.

Alicia took a few days off after Nigel’s death. A quick chat with her therapist over the phone, and she came to the conclusion that yes, it was a HORRIBLY detailed coincidence, and nothing to do with the book she was writing in. Just a small moment of guilt-fuelled detailing, probably brought on by the ill feeling towards him. Add in a dash of pattern recognition, and she had a simple case of the woo-woo willies.

A little bit of time off helped Alicia to get her own affairs in order. Shopping list for the supermarket done, laundry done (and yes, she checked the filter in her dryer beforehand), house cleaned, life admin checked off line by line, the weight lifting off her shoulders a little more.

At around 2pm, she climbed into her car, shopping bags slung on the passenger seat. She loaded up her Spotify playlist, seatbelt on, and then pulled away smoothly, heading in the direction of the supermarket.

As she turned onto the main highway, she felt good. Nigel was a distant memory for her as she sang her way through Dancing Queen from the Mamma Mia! Soundtrack, and the stress of work was barely a caress at the back of her head. She was content.

“Dancing Queeeeeeeeen, FEEL THE BEAT FROM THE TAMBOURIIIIIIIIIINE OOOH YEAAAAAHHHH!!!!” She indicated left. “YOUUUU CAN DANCE! YOU CAN – oh SHIT!”

“The impact was instant. Nothing she could have done to stop it. Honestly, we’re not sure how she got out of that alive. She was basically in a Fiat Panini Press.” Dr Jameson’s tone was grave as he spoke to Alicia’s mum, but Alicia’s life support machine would only be needed for a few days, while they made sure her injuries were not life-threatening. Mild spinal damage, a broken arm, plenty of soft tissue damage (she looked like a slender version of a post-blueberry Violet Beauregard), and a gash on her head that somehow hadn’t broken through her skull.

And, yes: her Fiat had been turned into an accordion, and she’d needed six firefighters to cut her loose.

Three days later, and Alicia came around. Her arm was in a cast, her spine stabilised on a board, and she was soft and dopey with the drugs. But she would make a full and complete recovery. No permanent damage, somehow.

“Leelee! There you are! Hey, sweetheart!” Alicia’s mum’s tone was gentle. “I can’t touch you, sweetheart. How are you feeling?!”

“Uuuugh…” Alicia managed, her throat raw from the intubation.

“Don’t speak, love, if you can’t. I’ll fetch the nurse. Your dad will be here in a bit, he’s gone to McDonald’s for us.” Alicia could only lie there as her mum – ever the calm oasis amidst chaos and injury – scuttled from the room. She floated a little, her head filled with soft cotton wool as she realised she was in a hospital, and that she couldn’t really move. But that was okay.

“Alicia, her name is?” a gentle male voice sounded from the door.

“That’s right! Oh, she’ll love this! What a treat! She might be awake, if not then no bother. She was awake when I went to fetch the nurse this morning.”

The doorway darkened, filled with a huge hulking man, towering over Alicia’s little mother. Alicia turned her gaze, and her heart monitor betrayed her entirely; the gentle rhythmic beep scattering into a frenzy.

Henry. Fucking. Cavill. Was in her hospital room.

And her mother. Was clutching. His MAMMOTH FUCKING ARM.

“Hen… wee… Cawill…???” Alicia slurred, grinning.

“Henry Cavill, sweetheart! I found him in the corridor! He was coming back from the paediatric unit!”

“Hello, Alicia! It’s lovely to meet you. Your mum said you were in a bad car accident?”

“Muummmmuh,” Alicia slurred again. “Am… biiiiig… is drugs… hnn. Hehweee… Cawill…”

“That’s alright, darling. Would you like a picture? And maybe we can chat a little bit, if you’re not feeling too loopy?”

“Aleeeesha… me… not loopy…” Henry looked at her heart monitor and chuckled, taking a seat beside her. Alicia’s mum snapped photos and took a video as Henry chatted to her. Alicia, bless her, tried to make sense.

And then…

“Henwee? Me… an you… go on a date?” It was the morphine. It had to be. Alicia had never had morphine before. “An… am kiss you…”

“Hahaha, my wife might have something to say about that, Alicia,” Henry chuckled.

“Onneh CHEEK!” Alicia crowed, wincing.

“Sure. You can kiss me on the cheek. Or…” he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

“Heuuuuhhhhhggghhh…” Alicia’s heart monitor went so haywire, the nurses came in to check it just as Alicia’s dad arrived.

“Hello! Aha! Superman! Pleasure to meet you, Mr Cavill! You know, it’s the strangest thing! I went for Alicia’s things just now, and her diary was lying on the floor, open. And she’d actually written that she needed a break somewhere warm and quiet, and Henry Cavill!” He pulled the diary from the plastic bag in his hand as Alicia’s mum took the McDonald’s bag from him. “Look!” he presented the diary and Henry laughed, pulling out his pen.

He wrote a little note for her: Alicia, it looks like dreams do come true! Or notes in diaries. Be careful what you wish for, next time! Morphine kisses! Yours, Henry C x

Alicia’s mum grinned, taking the diary off him and reading it. “Oh, she’ll lose her mind when she comes off this morphine later! Thank you, dear, you’re a good lad.”

“Most welcome. I’ll have to get going, anyway! It’s been a pleasure spending time with you! And Alicia? Take care of yourself, okay?” He blew her a kiss, shook her parents’ hands, and then left quietly.

Be careful what you wish for… those words turned in Alicia’s mind as she stared at the little brown leather book on her bedside table.

In her morphine-addled state, she could have sworn that book smiled at her…