Threads Of Life

A grimace, a raised eyebrow, an exaggerated smile — none of his gestures could convince him everything was all right.

“What are you doing, may I ask?”

“Elena, amore, do you find this normal?”

“Normal? What, your show? Not at all.” She lowered her toothbrush and set it on the sink.

“Mind if I brush my teeth before work?” she said, claiming her space back and cleaning toothpaste spots from the mirror.

“I didn’t get much sleep,” he said.

In the mirror, beside her, he found her worm, glowing pale green. He wasn't surprised anymore. It pursed its lips, then filled its cheeks in a dull, lazy rhythm, as it slurped the thread hanging from Elena's bellybutton.

When Elena finished, he stared back at his face. There wasn't any sign of tiredness, no wrinkles, no dry skin, no dark circles around his eyes. Four nights without sleep and he saw no signs of it.

“Still there? Come on, Gio, we've got to get going.”

Elena leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, already carrying her bag.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, careful with the plaster that held his loose thread — it had caught on his fingers once, while he was getting dressed and he had ended up with a yard of loose golden thread tangled around his hand and clothes. It took him a few minutes to untangle the knots and wind the thread into a little ball. The plaster helped him trap it. Elena sorted things here and there, sighing while he got dressed.

After he put his boots on, he picked up a banana on his way out. Gio passed through the doorway, dodging Elena's worm, and called the lift. Mattie, the five-year-old neighbour, and Mrs. de Souza, his grandma, greeted them when the lift door slid open.

“Good morning,” said Gio with a broad, playful smile he reserved for children — and for Elena — but he didn’t get in. The lift was too crowded with Elena, the neighbours, and the worms attached to each of them.

Mattie's was smaller, thinner, with bigger — and livelier — eyes. And it ate faster. His grandma's, though, was quite big; it almost filled the lift car and pushed Mattie's and Elena's aside, but its lips barely moved. Yet the three gluttons floated three inches above the floor. Even as the worms adapted to the space around Mattie, his grandma and Elena, brushing against their bodies, they didn't seem to notice anything. Anyway, there was no room for Gio there.

“I'll take the stairs,” he said, and turned his back to the lift before Elena could complain.

“Gio! What's wrong with you? Mattie was very upset when you left.”

“Amore, I promise I'll tell you, but you're late to work. And I am too.”

The three of them jumped in the car. Elena drove. Gio sat beside her, and her worm lay comfortably three inches above the back seat. It sucked on her line faster now, as if the golden thread unwound depending on how active Elena was. Actually, that made sense, he thought. Last Sunday, when he saw her worm for the first time — or any grub at all, to be fair — she was still asleep, and the thing drooled next to her, pulling at the thread now and then, like a sleeping baby sucking on a nipple.

“Gio. Gio!”

“What are you looking at? We're here. See you later.”

Gio stepped out to the pavement and watched the car roll down the street. His next step, though, wasn't quite so clear. Right in front of the garden centre where he worked lay two worms, glowing pale green, just like the rest of them. One was really big, probably the biggest he'd seen so far. The other one, just average. But the weird thing was they weren’t attached to anyone. No thread, no slurping. Just another oddity in a week that was already making him question his sanity.

His hand touched his bellybutton before he could even think about it. And it stayed there. Could one of those be his worm? There was nothing special about them, not that he felt attached to either one. Not that he wanted to. It had to feel weird, being unravelled and consumed by those creatures, no matter how quiet and cute they seemed to be.

Gio took the side street instead and entered the garden centre through the back door, the entrance they used when they received orders or took out the trash. That didn’t turn out as well as he had expected, though, because as soon as he set foot inside the building, Tom — his boss — and his worm hit him with a pile of pending orders and a scolding for the delay.

As much as Gio regretted the new workload, seeing through the flesh of Tom’s worm as it passed, squeezing its body against him, felt even worse. The creepy sensation of diving into a pool of life experiences completely unrelated to him turned his stomach and sent him straight to the lavatory.

Ten minutes and two glasses of water later, Gio was back on duty. A lorry was already waiting for him. The lorry driver leaned against the wall as he sipped a coffee he had obtained from the vending machine. His creature? Fine, thanks. It swayed high above his head and, though its eyes were open wide, drooled onto the floor. But what really sparked Gio's concern was the fact that the thread hung loose from the grub's mouth.

Gio brought the pallet truck and unloaded two pallets of shiny black ceramic plant pots from the back of the lorry. The third would have to wait. There was no room for it in the unloading area.

“I'll be right back, mate,” he said to the driver. The man nodded and pulled out a cigarette, gesturing towards the street.

The pot shelves were at the far end of the warehouse, where the weight could rest upon concrete, and the fragile ceramic was safer from the occasional bump. Gio passed aisles A and B and turned left when Yorick, Tom's old mastiff, looked up at him.

The next thing he knew, the dog had knocked him to the ground and was pinning him down beneath its enormous paws, barking into his face. Gio had seen Tom’s kid play with that dog when it was a puppy and it had since become the quiet company everyone relished when they didn’t have much to do.

Tom had to pull Yorick away from Gio, and that took much more persuasion than strength, but even so, the dog growled at Gio before stepping away from him. Only then did his mates dare to help him up. After much patting and checking, the group finally dissolved.

Gio managed to get himself together, although the tightening in his gut and his shallow breath kept him moving through the aisles for another minute or two, unable to keep still. Then he brushed the dust off his tee and trousers and returned to work.

When Gio returned to the unloading bay, the lorry driver was on the phone. He looked excited, gesturing and wandering about, though he spoke a language Gio couldn't understand. His worm followed him around like a helium balloon — unconscious. Gio unloaded the rest of the cargo and waited for the driver to return for the signed delivery note.

The plaster had come off his skin. His thread hung loose from his bellybutton. Gio fitted the little ball of thread into the coin pocket of his jeans. He'd have to cut it. Eventually. He was starting to look like his old tee, the one from college Elena hated so much. The poor thing unravelled little by little with every wash. Now and then, he had to cut a hanging thread.

When he looked at the driver again, the man was on the floor, convulsing. Gio rushed towards him, but Tom arrived first.

“Call an ambulance!” he yelled, clearing the surrounding area and protecting the driver’s head from hitting the floor.

“Gio, come here. Time how long it lasts.”

“Matt! Take care of this, I have to check he's breathing.”

In a matter of minutes, Tom had the situation under control. The ambulance took forty.

A lonely worm had turned the corner by then. Probably one of the two that Gio had seen in the morning. He couldn't tell one from the other, except for the size. This time, though, the thing seemed attracted to him. Thank God, the creature wasn't really fast. It didn’t seem to have much control over direction either. It just glided through the air. Except that the air was somehow making it drift towards Gio.

When the ambulance came, Tom asked the paramedics if someone could go in the ambulance with the man. Gio didn’t have to think twice.

“Yeah, mate. I reckon you should go. Accident's your middle name today. I don't need you around. See you Monday,” said Tom.

About five, Elena came by the hospital to pick Gio up. The ride home was a silent one. Her grub lay in the back seat again. Gio didn’t look at it anymore.

“Gio, are you okay? Did you know that guy?” said Elena when the car turned into their street.

“Not really, he brought an order now and then. I suppose he made them himself, the pots. We don't sell many.”

Gio fell silent again.

“So why are you so shocked? What happened?”

“Nothing, I guess. He just died. I mean, I wasn’t there. They told me to wait outside.”

Elena didn’t ask him again. They got changed and settled in. Elena put the kettle on. Gio sat in the living room. He fidgeted with his thread, rolling the tip between his fingers. From the kitchen, she noticed that he hadn’t turned on the telly; he hadn’t reached for his phone. He felt her gaze on him, but he didn’t look up.

Gio’s mind kept returning to the A&E cubicle. To the bluish curtain they had drawn between him and the stretcher. To the nurses and doctors jostling and bumping into him as they rushed to help. To the even, steady beep that should have been beating instead, but it wasn’t.

What came out through that curtain was something else entirely, the worm morphing into a greenish, translucent figure, very much resembling the man that had been laid on that stretcher. Only livelier. The figure left the place with the most placid stride, gulping the last inch of golden thread and, for a moment, Gio felt the grace.

The clink of the teaspoon against the bottom of the cup broke the silence around Gio. He blinked and looked at her. Then he sighed.

“Remember I said I had something to tell you?”

Elena nodded. Careful not to interrupt his momentum. Her body betrayed her, though; she rubbed her hands together and bit her lower lip. Gio noticed. He held her hands still and gave her a loving smile.

“It’s okay. I promise. It’s just that—”

“Do you think we have a soul?”

She didn’t answer.

“I think I saw his soul tonight. Or something like that. In fact, I think I can see everybody’s souls.”

“Except mine. I must have lost my soul.”

Elena’s expression relaxed at first. Then her brow tightened again, and an annoyed but mischievous grin came to her lips. “Gio, sometimes I think you watched too much anime when you were a kid,” she said, as she swatted his shoulder in revenge.

He wasn’t joking, though he hadn’t considered Elena’s suggestion yet.

“Come,” he said, and got to his feet, offering his hand to her.

Again in the bathroom, with all the lights on, Gio pulled at her make-up mirror and put his face barely an inch from the surface.

“Is this the face of someone who doesn’t sleep?”

She stared at him for a moment, then she shook her head gently. “Gio, I don’t think—”

“Look into my eyes, do you see anything weird? Or, here, my bellybutton. Look at this thread!”

Elena was getting really scared now, seeing him so frantic. “Gio!” she said, then left for the kitchen, leaving him there — looking in the mirror — facing whatever he had gone through at the hospital and had not been able to put into words.

Gio saw her worm leave the bathroom with her and then it dawned on him. Maybe, just maybe, those worms at the garden centre were still there.

He stepped towards the door when Elena returned with the tea.

“Gio, please, amore, drink some of your tea. It will help you.”

He didn’t think so, but the tear running down her face was enough for him to consider it. He’d drink it and he’d leave, he said. She waited until he finished it.

Then he fell asleep.