The Boyfriend

Pounding pop music bore into Andy Enslin’s skull. The throng of sweaty people danced and writhed all around the dark room—strobe lights cutting through the smoky air—but the dance floor was a wavy, blurry jumble for him. Another Friday night in Dublin had descended into a drunken dance fest.

In front of him, his friends, Tom and Emma, twirled each other around, before being pushed to the side by a wayward reveller who had lost her balance. Andy wiped a hand over his sweaty forehead as he attempted the few competent dance moves he had. Why did I have to wear a shirt tonight? he thought, billowing his loosely buttoned shirt to let air in. Should’ve just worn a T-shirt.

A familiar face broke through the crowd, moving towards him with two drinks. Connor gave one rum and coke to Andy and sipped on the other glass as he began swaying his hips. Tom threw his hands up as Connor joined them, wrapping a sweaty arm around him and almost throwing them both off-balance.

Behind Tom and Connor, a group of girls caught Andy’s eye. One of them—black jeans and a tight, black laced top—gyrated and flicked her hips, one hand held high as the other moved through her long dark hair. Her large, dark eyes closed at that moment and a smile formed on her heart-shaped face. Despite being with two other girls, this particular girl looked like she was in her own world, dancing for herself, unaware of the sweaty mess of people around her. The sight almost caused Andy to stop dancing and he found himself watching the girl.

“Oh my God,” Emma shouted into Andy’s ear. She nodded towards the group of girls he was looking at. “You see that girl? She is so hot. I can’t believe it.”

Andy smiled, nodding and wiping more sweat from his face. “She looks like Monica,” he said, raising his voice over the loud music. 

“Oh, she does!” Emma grasped Andy’s arm. “She looks like a young Monica. Like, season one.” They didn’t need to specify which Monica, as they were all on a first-name basis with the characters of Friends, Emma’s favourite show.

“You should go tell her that,” Emma said, nudging Andy forward.

He shook his head. He wasn’t drunk enough to go up to three dancing girls. He could hardly go up to one girl in any situation. Besides, an attractive girl like that wouldn’t be interested in him.

“Do it,” Emma shouted. She pushed him playfully before turning back to Tom and Connor, waving her arms.

Andy would love to be one of those guys who could just go up to a sexy girl and strike up a conversation. But those kinds of guys tended to be the arrogant and overly confident douche-bag types. And that just wasn’t Andy. He considered himself too much of a nice guy. Too soft. The kind of nice that girls loved to friend zone.

The dance floor soon became unbearably hot and crowded for Andy. He signalled to his friends that he needed another drink. He moved through the room, glancing at the dark haired girl once again. Her large eyes locked onto him for a second, and he looked away sheepishly. Ahh. Why look away? he thought, cursing himself. That could have been a nice moment there. His friends followed him to the bar, obviously relieved to be away from the stifling and malodorous dance floor. They took their drinks to an outside section at the back of the club, where they rejoiced in the cool air, despite several people smoking around them.   

The usual banter and jokes ensued, with Connor reminding them of the weekend before, when Tom had been drunk and fallen over. Their laughter increased as they drank, nudging each other playfully, and sharing more stories.

A sullen, regretful feeling nagged at Andy. He should’ve spoken to that girl on the dance floor.

Long dark hair caught his attention. His pulse quickened as he saw the girl from the dance floor moving through the outside crowd with her friends, as if she had been summoned by his thoughts. The three girls gathered next to his group, each with a drink in hand.

He couldn’t believe it. He had always believed in fate and destiny, or at least liked the idea of those concepts. Now he had another chance to talk to the girl. She was much more attractive than he originally thought. A short curtain of hair hung low over her forehead, almost reaching her alluring eyes. Andy had always had a weakness for that look.

He began to sweat as he visualised himself walking over to her. He could just pretend he was someone else, make up a character, another role for him to stretch his acting skills. No. Don’t overthink it. He sighed, tired of being single and hopeless. He wasn’t that good of an actor, anyway, certainly not in his current drunken state.

Connor called for another round of drinks while Andy turned from his friends. His mind was numb, his face hot, as he found himself walking towards the three girls. Perhaps the alcohol had dulled his senses enough for him to make a fool of himself. I’ll go up, say hi, and then when she shows her disinterest I’ll just go back and enjoy the rest of the night.

If there was something Andy had gotten used to with girls, it was their constant, inevitable rejection. But he couldn’t let that force him to give up. An old friend once put it memorably: As long as there is blood flowing through your penis veins, never give up looking for the right girl.

The dark haired girl was turned away from Andy as he came to the group. Shit, now I’m going to surprise her! He placed a hand gently on the back of her shoulder. She turned and looked up at him with her big dark eyes. He tried to ignore her friends—it was easier just to focus on one of them.

Andy leaned in closer to her, having to raise his voice a little over the crowd. “Where are you from?” he asked, smiling. That was his usual opener; one he had found was relatively harmless and opened up a line of dialogue fairly easily. He kept his body slightly turned away from her, knowing it was a less threatening position than facing her full-on.

She smiled, causing his heart to flutter. “From Reading,” she said.

Andy perked up. He touched her shoulder again as he leaned closer to her ear—a little physical contact was good, he had read. “Ah, a fellow Brit,” he said. “I’m from London.”

“No way,” she said. “I love London.”

Her friends drew her attention, and she turned to them, almost putting her back to Andy. The girls spoke quietly together. Shit, Andy thought. Now I’m on the fucking outside, standing here like an idiot. He knew the move. The girl didn’t want to speak to him, and would now just ignore him until he left.

Disheartened and somewhat annoyed, he considered leaving the group. Then the girl turned back to him.

“Sorry,” she said, smiling. “Hi.”

Andy beamed. She seemed so lovely. She was a good height, too; around a foot shorter than Andy, who didn’t consider himself the tallest of people.

“Hi again. I’m Andy, by the way,” he said, extending his hand.

“I’m Mary.” She shook his hand. Her skin was so soft. “Are you on holiday in Dublin?” she asked.

“I’ve been living here for about a year and a half,” he said. “Moved over for work.”

“Oh yeah? What do you do?” she asked, sipping her drink.

Andy smiled again. He hadn’t expected her to be so receptive. “I’m an actor,” he said, and waited for the usual awe-filled response that came when he told people what he did.

“Oh really? Have I seen anything you’ve done?”

“Well, I mostly do small theatre stuff,” Andy said, expanding the truth only slightly. Saying he was an actor sounded much better than telling people he was an extra. “At the moment, I do background work on TV shows, some small parts here and there.”

“That sounds so cool,” Mary said, turning to face him more. “Which shows?”

“Do you know Penny Dreadful? Or Vikings?”

“Oh my God,” she said, pressing a hand on his chest. “You’re in those? That’s amazing. They film them here, don’t they?”

Andy nodded. Mary’s focus shifted to over his shoulder, and he turned to see her two friends still beside them. He cursed himself, realising his mistake. Focus on the friends, he thought, recalling a pick-up artist book he’d read once.

The blonde girl nearest him pointed her head towards the inner club. “We’re going to dance,” she said to Mary. “Come find us when you’re done.” She raised her eyebrows, looking between Mary and Andy and smiling, before turning away with the other girl. 

“How do you all know each other?” Andy asked after the girls left.

“They’ve come to visit me for the weekend,” the girl said.

“Oh, you live here too?” Andy asked, smiling again. Stop smiling so much, you goofy fuck.

“About two months now.”

“What brought you here?”

She paused, looking away thoughtfully. Andy frowned. Shit, did I say something wrong?

“I was just after a change of scenery, you know?” Mary said, smiling weakly. “I’m an illustrator. Mostly do freelance work. So I can do it wherever I am.” 

“That sounds great,” Andy said. “It’s great to be able to work wherever you are. Kind of like working on location. I get to see a lot of great places.” Stop saying great.

“Yeah, I like it here.”

“You moved here on your own?” Andy asked, checking to see if she had a boyfriend. “Or you came with your parents, or…?”

Mary looked away again, her face hardening a little. Whoa, so she’s a little guarded, Andy noted. 

“I’m here on my own,” she said. “Just have my mum back in Reading.”

Andy tried to respond with a light, casual look, but something about Mary’s hardened expression made him uncomfortable. So no Dad? Died, maybe? Or divorced? Mary looked so different when she wasn’t smiling.

“I get lost so easily here,” she said, smiling again. “I’m still finding my way around.”

Andy picked up on the opener. “Well, I could show you around sometime. Show you where all the cool kids hang out.”

Mary pointed her chin behind him. “I think the cool kids are talking about you.”

Andy turned around to see his friends giggling and pointing at him. His face reddened. At least they didn’t come over and embarrass him.

He sighed. “They’re more like work colleagues,” he said playfully.

“Oh, they’re actors too?” Mary asked.

Well, extras, and runners. But we’re hoping to be actors. “Two of them, yeah,” Andy said. “The short guy and girl are also from England. The other is my housemate.”

“He’s definitely Irish,” she said, nodding at Connor’s light-red hair.

Andy smiled. “Oh aye, to be sure,” he said in a bad Irish accent.    

Mary took a small step closer, and Andy turned to find her face close to his. Heat flushed his face.

“I’d… better get back to my friends,” Mary said. “They leave tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Andy said, suddenly realising he was running out of time with her. He hated asking a girl for her number—usually because they found new and creative ways of saying ‘no’ when he asked. However good the conversation seemed to go, the clincher was finding out if they wanted to give him their number or not.

“Are you on Facebook?” she asked, surprising him.

“Yes,” Andy said, instinctively reaching for his phone. “Maybe we could meet up sometime, and I’ll show you around town.”

He opened the Facebook app and handed her the phone.

“Sure, that sounds nice,” Mary said as she searched her name and added herself as a friend.

What a cool move, Andy thought.

“Hey,” she said, scrolling down his Facebook profile. “Your birthday was recently.”

“A few weeks ago,” he said.

She looked up at him, flashing her large eyes. “Mine too.”

“No way,” he said, smiling. “When’s your birthday?”

“August ninth.”

Andy paused, raising his eyebrows. He let the revelation settle within him before he spoke. “That’s… that’s the same day as my birthday.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you joking?”

“No, no. Really,” he said, shaking his head.

She gave him a bemused look, wrinkling her brows. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine,” he said.

She barked a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand as she composed herself.

“What?” he asked.

“I just turned twenty-nine, too.”

“Wait,” Andy said. “So we were born on the same day, in the same year?”

She handed him back his phone, watching him closely. Her finger brushed his as he took the phone.

“Andy,” she said. “This might sound strange, but… do you believe in fate?”

Andy blinked, momentarily frozen. “I do, actually.”

Mary smiled, looking away briefly before meeting his eyes again. “That’s good to know.” She touched his shoulder and kissed his cheek as she moved away.

“Get in touch,” she said.

Andy’s heart fluttered again. This girl was really something. “I will,” he said smoothly, trying to sound cool.

She turned back and smiled as she walked away, before entering the dark club.

Andy let out a relieved sigh. That had gone so well. What were the chances of meeting a girl who was born on the same day and same year as him? And she mentioned fate! He could already tell she was someone special. Someone worth knowing.

His friends whooped and cheered as he returned to them.

“Oh my God!” Emma shouted. Her words were slurred and she swayed slightly as she pressed both hands on his shoulders. “That was Monica! Oh I’m so happy for you! She’s so pretty.”

They went back in and danced the night away, sweating and drinking until the club finally closed. Andy didn’t see Mary in the club again. But that was okay, he could get in touch with her on Facebook. He thought about Mary the rest of the night. He couldn’t help but acknowledge a nagging, troubling feeling, however. One he told himself was nothing to worry about.

Talking to Mary, getting along well with her, something about it all had been too easy. 

Andy awoke with a throbbing head and sour taste in his mouth. The previous night came back to him in vivid flashes. Checking his phone, he saw Mary had accepted the friend request she had sent from his profile.

Sitting up, he wiped the sleep from his eyes and began typing a message to her. After several minutes of typing, thinking, retyping, and fighting through his headache, he eventually sent a message asking to meet at a market tomorrow. He figured that asking to meet today would make him sound too eager, despite wanting to see Mary as soon as he could, and start the whole getting-to-know-each-other process.

After showering, he ran into his housemate, Connor, in the hallway. They talked briefly about the night before—what they remembered of it—and then Andy left to get some breakfast.

The fresh air cleared his fuzzy mind somewhat. The quiet street was a stark contrast to the busy main roads he had lived by in London. Sometimes, living in Dublin almost felt like being on holiday. Particularly on weekends, where he had little to do and all the time to do it in.

He spent most of his time in the Smithfield area, on the north side of Dublin, seeing the same old faces and going to the usual coffee shops. Despite being a capital city, Dublin felt more like a big village to Andy, especially when compared to the sprawling city of London.

But he was here for a reason, he reminded himself. Working in television was where he was meant to be. A stepping point towards the bigger acting gigs. Just a moment in his life, fleeting like all other moments.

He checked his phone as he walked. Still no reply from Mary. He wondered if she would wait several hours, or longer, before replying. Maybe she was genuinely busy—she did have friends visiting her—or maybe she was purposely waiting before replying, like some people did. Ugh. Andy really hated the mind games and shit tests that came with dating. He couldn’t wait to find a girlfriend and just be comfortable with her. A girl that could care for him, and prove to him he was someone worth caring for. Someone who could be loved.

He caught himself before he went down a dark and depressive trail of thought. Maybe now things would be different, if Mary was as wonderful as he hoped she was.

Settling down at a table outside his regular café, Andy ordered a full Irish fry-up. Normally he was conscious of losing a bit of weight. Although he wasn’t overweight—more of a skinny-fat body—his current goal was to get defined abs, hoping they would help him land an acting gig when he went for one. But in his current hung-over state, there was nothing more satisfying than a big fry up.

While he waited, he looked over Mary’s Facebook profile. Mary Madina. Cool name, sounds like a superhero’s alter ego. She didn’t have many photos, mostly scenic pictures. For some reason, Andy had expected her to be a big selfie fan, or a poser. Or at least one of those girls with hundreds of photos with lots of different people. She posted some of her illustrations every now and then. Some were bold coloured, heavily caricatured cartoons, others were darker, more mature and emotive. She seemed like a pretty deep, intelligent person. Maybe a bit of a dark side to her—but then who didn’t have their problems? That just made her more interesting. He noticed she didn’t have that many Facebook friends. Okay, that’s fine, he thought. It’s pretty cool that she isn’t into Facebook that much. She’s probably more focused on in-person experiences. I like that.  

After downing a jug of water and hoovering up his breakfast, and feeling much better for it, he checked his phone again.

Mary had replied.

Hey, the message said. Was nice to meet you too. I’m busy tomorrow, but, how about going to that market tonight? Sounds like fun. My friends are leaving this afternoon, so I’ll be free after 7:00, if that’s good for you?

A second message popped up as he was reading.

Would be good to see you again :) 

Andy re-read the messages a few times, lost in a quietly excited state. It had been a long time since a girl seemed so keen on him. He’d tried online dating a few times, and had met some nice girls that way. But they all usually ended up losing interest, or eventually stopped replying to his messages. Even the ones that felt like they were going somewhere would end up stopping suddenly, or they’d change their mind about seeing him again, despite seeming interested beforehand.

Mary seemed like she could be someone special… But she doesn’t know me, he reminded himself. We just spoke briefly that one time. And you don’t meet the real person the first time, anyway. She’ll probably be less interested once she gets to know me.

He arranged to meet her at the Portobello canal, where a market had been set up for the weekend. One of the things Andy liked about dating was that it was a good excuse to see and do things in town.  

Buzzing with an excited air, he went to a supermarket to buy a few things. He paused by an aisle that contained rows of condoms, and stared at the coloured boxes thoughtfully. No. Way too soon to be thinking like that, he told himself. He finished his shopping and headed home to get ready for his date.

Mary consumed his thoughts for the rest of the day. What if they really got on? What if he should’ve bought those condoms? What if she wasn’t as cute when he saw her again, or she was disappointed when she saw him?

Later that evening, Andy put on a nice T-shirt—she’s seen me in a shirt already, now I can be more casual and comfortable—and walked across town to meet Mary.

Impressive bursts of sun rays broke through the heavy clouds as the sun lowered, oranges and reds covering the sky. Despite a light chill, the night was expected to be dry and clear. Perfect dating weather.

Standing by the side of the market next to the canal, Andy scanned the crowd nervously, hoping he would recognise Mary when he saw her again. Last night was still fuzzy for him. Waiting to see someone was the most nerve-wracking part of dating for him. Once he was with them, a beer or coffee in hand, and the conversation was flowing, he was much more at ease. 

Turning around, he saw her walking towards him.

Mary wore a heavy woollen jacket, opened to reveal a top and skirt. Yes, a skirt, he thought. Girls in skirts and dresses were so sexy. It was a rare occurrence with modern girls, who mostly seemed to prefer variations of jeans.

She smiled as she approached, flashing bright white teeth. A thick beany hat completed her look—such a good look. Girls who looked good in hats were really something.

“Hi again,” she said as she came to him.

“Hey again.” He leaned in and gave her a hug. No cheek-kiss. Too early for that. But light physical contact was good—it showed comfort and familiarity, things you wanted to mimic on a date.

He led her to a coffee stall, making small talk about her journey there and asking about her friends who had left.

“So,” he said when they settled down on a bench overlooking the canal. “Where have you been in Dublin so far? What places can we cross off my tour-guide list?

She hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve been to Temple Bar, of course. Still want to go to Phoenix Park, and the zoo.”

She was almost making it too easy for him. “Ah, well we have to go to the zoo,” Andy said. “Okay, that’s one on our list.”

She nodded and then sipped her hot chocolate. Andy frowned, having hoped for a better response from her. Saying pronouns like ‘we’ and ‘our’ helped solidify the idea of them two being together. One of the tricks he had learned from the ‘pick-up artist’ book he had read. But, despite his exploration in such things, Andy was far from confident, or successful, with girls.

“The best places are outside of Dublin, though,” he went on.

“Like Skellig Michael,” she said. “I’ve never been, but that’s where they filmed the new Star Wars film.”

Andy perked up, looking at her. “You just said the right thing,” he said, leaning closer. He gave her a one-armed hug, and she laughed. “A girl who mentions Star Wars deserves a hug, in my books.”

“Everyone should mention Star Wars on a date,” she said, smiling.

Wow! She’s really something, Andy thought.

“Have you been to the Cliffs of Moher?” he asked. “On the west coast?”

“Oh, I’ve heard of them, but haven’t been yet.”

“It’s so scary up there. So high up, and you can go right to the edge of the cliffs.”

“Sounds too scary for me,” she said, shaking her head playfully.

“Do you like scary films?”

“Not so much.” She shook her head again.

“Oh, I love them,” Andy said, adjusting his position to face her more on the bench. “I love the thrill, the excitement. It’s great to push yourself to feel those extreme emotions. Like going on rollercoasters. Doing something really scary makes you realise that you can do anything.”

“Yeah but then you get nightmares for the rest of your life,” she said.

They sipped their drinks, causing a moment of silence. Andy glanced at her feet, and was pleased to see both of them were pointed in his direction. A good sign.

“Have you ever had really bad nightmares?” he asked, attempting another line of conversation to get her heart racing and simulate adrenaline—which made a person more memorable.

“I don’t really remember my dreams,” she said. “Or nightmares.”

Andy nodded and sipped his coffee. He was hoping for a more invested response.  

“You’re lucky,” he said. “I’ve had a few bad ones. Recurring dreams.”

“Really?” Mary asked, sounding intrigued. She adjusted her position. Andy noted she had inched herself a little closer.

He shrugged. “Well, I once stayed around my friend’s house, and we were both in the same bed. This was years ago. And I remember waking up in the middle of the night, and I saw the shadow of someone in the corner of the room, by the window. When I focused on it, it started moving, and I realised it was a person. A short person. And it walked around the bed, to my side. When it got close, I freaked out and threw my head under the covers, squeezing my eyes shut. I think I stayed like that for the rest of the night.”

“Oh, wow,” she said in a quiet voice, looking at him with wide eyes. “How scary.”

“But that’s not the worst part,” Andy went on. “I told my friend about it in the morning, and his face went white.” A chill ran through Andy as he recalled the memory. “He had seen the same person in the room. He said it was an old lady, with long hair. But to me it looked like a kid. But neither of us got a good look at it.”

Mary shook her head. “How can that be possible? For you to both have the same dream?”

Andy shrugged, frowning. “Was it a dream, though? I mean, of course it was. But, what if it wasn’t?”

She looked away, looking thoughtful, and then sipped her drink.

“I tell you what, though,” Andy said. “The weirdest thing that’s happened to me. I tried an Ouija board once. You know those boards that they say can communicate with spirits?”  

“With the little glass that moves around and points to letters?”

“Yeah, that one. My cousin and I tried it once. And, not many people believe this, but the little glass actually moved.”

“What did it say?” she asked, awe softening her voice.

“I don’t know, really. It started to move, and I thought it was my cousin pushing it at first. And then when I really concentrated and thought it might actually be real, the glass flew off the table and smashed into the wall.”

“No way. Are you serious?”

Andy shook his head, trying to smile. “I don’t know how to explain it. But it really moved on its own.”

Mary stared at him for a moment, smiling slightly.

While Andy couldn’t read her expression, he was slightly disappointed by her response to his scary stories. People were usually more shocked or morbidly curious, asking lots of questions about the small ghost or the Ouija board. But Mary almost seemed… uninterested. Like when you told someone the same story for the tenth time, and they just smiled and humoured you.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked. “And heaven, hell?”

“Wow, that ended up being a big question,” he said, chuckling. “Ahm, I don’t know. I’d say so. There’re a lot of strange things that happen that can’t really be explained.”  

“You’re very open-minded,” she said, looking at him thoughtfully. “That’s a good quality.”

Andy smiled, locking eyes with her. His heart fluttered once again. “You’re easy to talk to,” he said. “That’s a good quality too.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, inching a little closer to him. Their knees were almost touching. “It’s nice to talk to someone and be comfortable. Like you can tell them anything.”

“I like that. When things just feel easy, and simple.”

“No games,” she said.

Andy raised his eyebrows. “Exactly!” He regarded her, a moment passing between them. She smiled back. “I hate it when I realise that other people are just playing games,” Andy said.

Mary nodded towards the market behind them. “Speaking of games. I see a basketball shooting game over there. Loser buys the next drinks?”

Andy beamed at her. She was so cool. “Deal.”

A light wind blew through the market as the evening went on. The sky had darkened to a deep blue, a dull splash of orange over the horizon, by the time they finished throwing basketballs at the hoops. Andy insisted he had let Mary beat him, although the scores had been close. He had never been good at basketball, anyway.

Rather than getting another drink, Mary mentioned she was hungry, and they ended up going to one of the food stalls in the market.

They sat at a nearby wooden table. Andy straddled the bench, facing Mary, while he ate his tub of paella. It was getting late, and he had started to feel their date was coming to an end. Make a plan to see each other again, he thought. Show her you’re interested. Don’t fall into the friend zone.

“You know,” he said, finishing a mouthful of paella. “You can tell a lot about a person by their body language.”

Mary narrowed her eyes, giving him a crooked smile. “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Andy went on. “Like, where someone’s feet point is where their focus is. If someone is talking to you and their feet are pointed away from you, it means they don’t want to talk to you. And when a group of people laugh, who someone looks at while they laugh is who they’re closest to.”

Mary leaned over the bench. “Well, my feet are pointing at you, but a little away from you too.”

“I guess that means you’re not sure if you want to talk to me or not.”

Mary smiled. “You know me so well.”

Andy paused. It was true. He did feel like he’d known her for a long time already.

“From how you’re sitting,” she said, “it looks like you want to emphasise your open legs.”

Andy laughed, somewhat embarrassed. “Ah, I guess this isn’t the best position to talk about body language. But, it’s an open pose. So, it should tell you that I’m open and comfortable with you. If I was facing the table, talking to you sideways, with my arms crossed, it would mean that I was guarded and didn’t want to talk to you.”

“That’s pretty interesting,” she said. “How do you know all this?”

Andy shrugged. “It’s kind of related to acting. Knowing how a person moves and what they do, depending on how they’re feeling. It’s fascinating stuff.”

Mary placed her tub down, and laid her hand on the table. “So if I had my hand on the table like this, near your hand, what would that mean?”

Andy felt his face grow hot. “Well that would give me the opportunity to move my hand closer,” he said. “And lets us touch each other briefly while we speak. If we wanted to.”

“Light physical contact is good,” Mary said, moving her hand to touch his.

Andy marvelled at the bold move. He felt a stirring deep within him, and wished his legs weren’t open so much.

Now would be a good moment to go in for a kiss. But they were still eating, and he didn’t trust the state of his breath right then.

They finished their food and made their way back towards the centre of town. Andy hailed a taxi, saying he didn’t want Mary walking all the way home—an area that was a good thirty minutes away.

“Well that’s very chivalrous of you,” Mary said as the taxi waited for her to enter.

“Oh, I’m full of good moves like that,” Andy said.

Mary leaned closer, her eyes softening.

The world faded away as Andy leaned in, realising her intention. Their lips met, softly at first, gently, before they embraced and pressed their faces together. Mary eventually pulled away, breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed.

She looked at him shyly. “So, the zoo. Call me, we’ll make a plan,” she said, opening the door of the taxi.

Andy stood there, watching her get in. “Definitely.” He tried to remain composed, despite being flustered and exhilarated from the kiss.

He waited until the taxi pulled away and went out of view, before sighing deeply. An excited shiver ran through him. He wanted to jump up and down.

He replayed the date over and over, remembering little details, seeing Mary’s face again. Despite an overwhelming feeling of success, a troubling thought continued to nag Andy. He had never met a girl who was so keen on him straight away like this. Mary was making it too easy for him.

He told himself he wasn’t as worthless as he sometimes thought, in his darkest moments, and that he was a normal, decent person who deserved affection and was capable of love.  

Andy met Mary again two days later. He had no filming scheduled for several more days, and Mary said she only had a small freelance illustration project to work on, and was free most of the time. This gave them plenty of opportunity to see each other.

They arranged to meet at Dublin Zoo. Andy immediately noticed that Mary was more receptive and spirited—walking shoulder-to-shoulder, sitting close to him, making stronger eye contact. He wondered if, now that she knew that he was conscious of body language, she was purposely being more open and showing her intentions.

“So Andy is short for Andrew?” she asked while they strolled with ice creams in hand.

“Yep,” Andy told her. “I don’t think it could be short for any other name.”

“I always thought it would be funny to name a girl Lizard,” Mary said, smiling playfully. “So that when people ask her, ‘Liz, is that short for Elizabeth?’ she’ll have to say, ‘No, it’s short for Lizard.’”

Andy laughed. “Lizard is a great name.”

“That’ll be the name of my first daughter,” Mary said. She glanced at him and then quickly looked away, licking her ice cream.

She said her first daughter, Andy thought, suddenly a little shaken. Not ours. But, something about the way she said it, the way she looked at him, made him wonder if she had just speculated about the two of them having kids. 

Earlier, while they had watched two gorillas holding each other, she had brought up the idea of fate bringing her and Andy together. The thought troubled him,  and he couldn’t help but wonder if Mary was a bit too full-on. He wasn’t used to someone liking him so much. Maybe this was just how it was when two people really liked each other?  

Despite his apprehensions, Andy was electrified, overwhelmingly compelled by her. There was just something about her. A familiarity. Like he had known her his whole life.

Over the next week, they saw each other several more times. Lunch by the River Liffey, breakfast in Smithfield Square, drinks at The Globe on South Great George’s Street. They took a trip to Trinity College, where they saw the Book of Kells, a famous old book and popular tourist spot.

While they sat outside a coffee shop, Andy went on about his favourite TV shows.

“You have to see Silicon Valley. It’s what the Big Bang Theory wishes it was.”

Mary nodded. “I’ll have to check it out.” 

“I have so much to show you,” Andy said, smiling.

The more they spoke, the more he realised that Mary wasn’t a big film and TV fan. He was shocked to hear that she hadn’t seen many classic films. But that’s okay, he thought. Just means that we get to spend more time together, showing her all the old classics she’s missed. The first on their watch-list, he told her, was one of his favourite films, The Princess Bride.

Mary fell busy with freelance work for the next few days, and Andy managed to line up a few days of extra’s work on a low budget film shooting in town. But they messaged each other constantly.

The group chat that Andy had with Tom, Emma, and Connor was also busy. There was always something being said—a link to a funny video, a random gif, or just general talk. But the biggest topic in the chat lately was Andy and Mary. Emma still referred to her as Monica, and the group had adopted it as a nickname for Mary. They insisted that Mary come out one night with them all, but Andy was hesitant, feeling it was too early to unleash his crazy friend group dynamic on Mary.

How about watching a film around yours tonight? Mary texted one day. You can finally show me that old film you keep going on about.

That was enough for Andy to go out and buy condoms.

The night of their movie date, he played the upcoming evening over and over in his head. They would watch The Princess Bride on his laptop, lying on his bed, keeping things super casual. There would be a bottle of wine on his bedside table; Merlot, which Mary liked. He would focus on watching the film, and if she wanted to do more, then it would be her move to make. Andy would just make it obvious that he was open to do more than just watching a film.

His housemate, Connor, had agreed to stay over at his girlfriend’s place that night, leaving Mary and Andy alone.

A red evening sky showed out of the windows on the slanted roof of his loft room, bathing the room in a dim light, lit mostly by the laptop screen. Andy had a simple room: wooden floors, white walls that tilted up to the peak of the house. His double bed was in one corner, a large wardrobe against the opposite wall, and a tall chest of drawers at the end of the bed. He had never been one to collect things and decorate a room with his personality.

The evening went mostly according to plan, with Andy laying on his bed with Mary, the laptop over his legs.

She smelled amazing—like creamy vanilla and honey. Her perfumed hair lay by his face as she nestled into him, an arm draped over his stomach.

“Jeez, that guy’s big,” she said, pressing herself further against him.

“That’s Andre the Giant,” Andy told her. “An old professional wrestler. He had gigantism, where he never stopped growing.”

“Wow,” Mary said quietly.

They watched the film for some time. Perhaps Andy was reading too much into things, but he noticed that Mary didn’t laugh that much at the great moments, or seem that interested in the characters. She did perk up at the idea of true love, however. “That’s like us,” she said about the two main lovers in the film.

He wasn't sure what to make of that, and was glad that his expression was hidden from her angle. Wow, she is really full-on, he thought. Perhaps her reaction so far to the film had put him in a sour mood, but something gave him concern right then. Something he couldn’t quite place.

But she was so attractive. Way out of his league. Her tight leggings showed the smooth curves of her legs, pressed against his.

Andy played his fingers through her hair, absent-mindedly at first, and then with more purpose, moving his hand to rub her shoulder.

She looked up, locking eyes with him. His heart raced as she leaned up, slowly closing her eyes.

They kissed, pressing their faces together, breathing heavily.

Mary leaned back. Andy wished that he could read the thoughts behind her big dark eyes.

He swallowed. This is happening. She wants to…

“Hi,” Mary said playfully. Her eyes narrowed seductively.

Andy’s head grew fuzzy as he leaned closer. The laptop fell onto the bed as he embraced her, kissing her.

The grating, squeaking voice of one of the film characters was somewhat off-putting at first, but the rest of the world soon faded away as Andy focused more on Mary.

They helped take each other’s clothes off, kissing as much as they could. Andy kicked his laptop shut without looking, cutting off the film. They pushed back the sheets to get under the covers. He breathed in her intoxicating scent. Her skin was so soft and warm.

He was thankful for the fresh pack of condoms in his bedside drawer.

***

Sometime later, Mary lay in Andy’s arms, resting her head on his bare chest.

Andy was numbed with satisfied contentment, a light sheen of sweat over him. It had been so long since he was last with a girl. Longer than he cared to admit. He had forgotten how good it was to just lay with a girl and feel completely at ease—and was glad to discover that he still knew what to do with a girl in bed. At least, Mary didn’t seem to disagree with anything.

He didn’t even care that the film had been forgotten.

“What time is it?” Mary asked in a sleepy voice.

“Late,” Andy said, kissing her head.

“Sounds late,” Mary said, nuzzling her naked body against him.

“Very. Far too late for you to go home. Might as well just stay over.”

Mary purred in a heavy, sleep tone. “Might as well.”

She adjusted her position slightly and became still, breathing softly.

Fuck, this feels so nice, Andy thought as he closed his eyes. He lay there for some time—wanting to soak up as much of the pleasant moment as he could—before sleep eventually took him.

At some point, he became vaguely aware of being awake. He lay on his stomach, his head buried in his pillow. Remembering Mary, he shifted his arm to the other side of the bed.

His hand moved over empty sheets.

He lifted his head and opened his eyes, adjusting to the gloomy darkness of the room. Mary was gone.

Did she leave? Andy groggily thought. Maybe in the toilet?

A streetlight partly lit the room in a dull yellow light, coming in from the far roof window. Andy turned to look over the room.

Someone was standing over his bed.

Andy startled back, pushing himself against the headboard, his heart racing. It was Mary. She stood there, completely still, her hair hanging down and obscuring her face. Her naked form was mostly hidden in shadow.

Andy watched her, trying to steady his heart. What is she doing? he thought. Is she…. Is she asleep? Darkness covered where her face should have been, beneath her hanging hair.

He tried to say her name but his voice caught. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Mary.”

She remained still, lurking in the darkness.

What the fuck is she doing?

Andy slowly reached out to her. His hand trembled as it moved closer to her. His fingers brushed back her hair and curled over her cold shoulder.

Mary burst to life, screaming frantically and convulsing. Her arms flailed and her hair whipped around wildly as she shook.

“Whoa, whoa,” Andy cried out, rising and grabbing her by the shoulders. “Mary, it’s me.”

She wailed and fought against him. He managed to press her against him in a firm hug, attempting to hold her down. Her arms dropped limply as she became quiet, filling the room with an unnerving silence. Andy’s heart pounded, his bare chest pressed against Mary.

She slowly lifted her head, moaning softly.

Andy cupped her cheek and helped her face him. She looked as if she were slowly awaking.

“Mary?” he asked.

She looked around the room, and then at Andy.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said in a hoarse voice, sounding out of breath. “I was asleep. I… I sleepwalk sometimes. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no, no,” Andy said soothingly. His hand trembled over her cheek, his whole body still reeling from the fright.

“I should have told you,” she said. “It doesn’t always happen. Just sometimes. I don’t know...”

“It’s okay.”

Despite his shaken nerves, Andy couldn’t help but react to their naked bodies being pressed together in the darkness. She looked up at him and smiled as she felt him stiffen slightly.

“Cuddles?” she asked, nodding towards the bed.

Andy smiled. “Of course.”

They crawled back under the covers and held each other. Mary seemed drained, her eyes mostly closed. Andy watched her slowly fall back to sleep. He lay awake for some time, remembering the sight of her standing over the bed. He knew it was just a harmless sleepwalking incident, but still… something about the way she stood there in the darkness. Troubled thoughts muddled his head as he too eventually fell asleep.

Late morning, Mary left to finish some illustration work at home. She seemed a bit distant and quiet. Andy guessed that she was embarrassed about last night. He assured her that he had a great time and had no regrets, and kissed her several times.

He considered telling his friends about the strange thing that happened with Mary, but he thought they would just make jokes and not really be helpful. But he knew one person he could talk to; an old friend in London he still spoke to every now and then. While Andy had built up a few good friends during his time in Dublin, his closest friend, William, had always been the best person he could talk to, about anything. 

After Mary left, Andy called William.

They caught up with each other and made small talk about their current lives and latest news. Andy brought up Mary, which got William excited and greatly intrigued. He demanded all the details from Andy. As one of his oldest friends, William knew how rare it was for Andy to have a girlfriend.

When Andy eventually explained about Mary’s sleepwalking last night, William immediately became concerned. Despite being a jokester, one of the best things about William was that he knew when to be serious, and was greatly empathetic.

“Well, it sounds like you really like her,” William finally said.

“I do,” Andy admitted. “She’s great.”

“So don’t dismiss her so quickly,” William said. “She might be a little strange, but everyone is weird. The best ones are worth the hard work.”

Andy considered this. “Yeah. I thought it was meant to be easier, once you find the right person.” In the silence that followed, an obvious thought came to him: maybe Mary isn’t right for me, then.

“Nothing in this world is easy,” William said. “Not anything worthwhile. But giving her another chance doesn’t mean that it’s not okay to end things, if that’s the decision you come to.”

Andy frowned, sighing. “I know. I know. Right now, I can’t even imagine ending things with her. She’s so-“

“Great,” William interrupted, the playfulness clear in his voice. “Yeah you said that, dude. She must have a fringe. You got pictures?”

“None for you. Stay away from my Facebook.”

William chuckled. “I’m never on that, anyway. But I know what you’re thinking. We both know how bad you are at breaking up with people.”

“I’m not that bad,” Andy said. Although he knew the truth.

“Dude,” William said. “You’ve never been good at being honest with people. Not when it came to the bad stuff. Hard truths. Tough love. Brutal honestly. I’ve been telling you this for years.”

Andy shook his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You know what this reminds me of?” William began. “Remember when you thought someone was in your house? Like, when you were around thirteen, fourteen? You said you saw someone in your room.”

“Shit, yeah,” Andy said. “I forgot about that. Yeah, that’s right. Someone was standing in the corner of my room. But I think that might have been a dream though. You know what I did tell her about, though, was when we both had that same dream about the ghost in the room, when I stayed over your house that time.”

William laughed, which sounded a bit forced to Andy. “Yeah, I remember. You still think we saw a ghost?”

“You’ve never given a better explanation.”

“No, but I just assumed that it was part of all the weird shit that seems to happen to you.”

Andy considered this. He had to admit that there were a lot of strange events he could think of. A dark face in a window that wasn’t there when he looked again. Hearing noises when he was alone in the house. The Ouija board glass smashing into the wall. But he had always thought of them as just a part of his wild, creative imagination. “Weird shit happens to everyone,” he eventually said. “Everyone is weird, remember?”

“Exactly.”

They went on to speak a little about the latest cinema films, catching up on TV shows and other news.

“Anyway, dude, let me know how things go with Mary,” William said after announcing he had to go.

“Yeah, will do,” Andy said. “Thanks, man. Good talk. Say hi to London for me.”

After the call, Andy somehow felt even more lost about Mary. She was the coolest girl he’d ever been with. And he had been single for so long; it didn’t feel right to dismiss her so quickly, so easily. Just because she sleepwalks? He knew how ridiculous that sounded.

He eventually came to one realisation: he would spend more time with her before making any kind of decision.

***

Andy didn’t hear from Mary for the rest of the day. She didn’t reply to his text the next day, and didn’t answer when he called her the day after. He began to feel it was over. Perhaps she’d changed her mind. Maybe he wasn’t that good in bed. Maybe she was so embarrassed about her sleepwalking moment that she’d just decided not to see him again.

He wished he knew where Mary lived, but felt going to see her would be too bold of a move. Especially for someone he still didn’t really know that well.

Hey Mr, Mary messaged him, three days after he had last seen her. Sorry I fell busy with work. Buy you a coffee today to make up for it?

While greatly relieved, Andy was also slightly disappointed to go back to a coffee date, having hoped to have moved on to more intimate dating scenarios. But of course, just seeing Mary again would be good.

Their coffee date turned into an early dinner. Mary wore a polka dot dress and a tight top under a cardigan, and was as lovely and receptive as Andy could have hoped for her to be. She was perfectly normal, Andy decided. In fact, seeing her again made him like her even more. She seemed bubblier, and more confident with being flirty.

How could I have been considering ending things with her? Andy thought, marvelling at her sexuality and playfulness.

He knew what it was, however. It had been so long since he’d truly been comfortable with someone that he realised he was finding it hard to accept things were going well. To fully accept he had met someone great. Someone who thought meeting him was destiny. Don’t sabotage this, Andy, he told himself, fully aware of his self-destructive streak. It was the same whenever he started a new diet, or signed up for a new acting class. Sometimes it was easier to do the wrong thing, to have that take-away or not show up to class, than it was to work hard and be productive.

Mary stayed over Andy’s place that night. They ended up having sex twice, both ravenous for each other. They lay together for most of the night, talking, until falling asleep in the early hours. The frightening moment of the other night became a faded memory.

They had an early breakfast together in Smithfield Square, Andy taking her to his favourite café.

Stayed over again? Emma wrote in their group chat after Andy updated them. What kind of a girl does that? You’ve only been on a few dates!

What a slut, Tom wrote, and added, I like her! 

But do you like her, Andy? Emma wrote. You’re happy?

After giving it some thought, trying to be subjective, Andy replied, I am. She’s awesome. So far so good, mum. 

“So how did your work go?” Andy asked as they sat at an outside table, eating.

“Work?” Mary asked.

“You said you were busy with work recently.”

He noted the blank look she gave him, before she nodded. “Oh, yes. Yeah it was fine, just a rushed deadline.”

Andy nodded, but he had a nagging feeling something felt off. Her voice had taken a strange tone that he hadn’t heard before. Another instance of her locking up and becoming guarded.

A small dog yapped at them around the tables.

Mary reeled back, lifting her feet and turning away from the skinny dog.

“It’s just a little doggy,” Andy told her, reaching down and scratching the dog behind the ear. It sniffed his hands, smelling their breakfast.

“It’s a little rat,” Mary said, scowling at the dog.

“But he’s so cute,” Andy said playfully. He dropped part of a chip on the ground, which the dog lapped up.

“Ugh,” Mary groaned. “We’re eating here.”

The dog’s owner came and took it away. Andy smiled as it dashed around the square, barking at other dogs.

So she’s not a dog person, he thought, frowning. Okay, not a deal breaker. But that’s a shame.

Andy left for a day of filming in town. They needed him to fill up a background in a busy street, along with many other extras. Standard work, but decent pay.

The next night, Mary went round to his place again. With Connor away at his parents’ house in Dundalk for the weekend, Andy had a nice Friday night in planned. He cooked spaghetti bolognese, one of the few dishes he knew how to do well, but had to leave out the chillies and hot sauces as Mary didn't like spicy foods.

Mary looked around the kitchen while he cooked. She picked out an old photo that was stuck to the fridge.

“Awww, is this you?” she asked, waving the photo.

Andy smiled. “That’s little Andy. That was a picnic in Regent’s Park.”

“You look so cute,” she said. “Nice jumper, too. And what is that in your hand?”

“A dinosaur,” Andy said without looking at the photo. “My favourite toy when I was a kid.”

Mary stared at the photo with a melancholic smile for a moment, before looking up at him. “Here, let me help you get the plates ready.” She replaced the photo and went to the cabinets.

They brought their plates into the front room and watched The Breakfast Club with some wine and snacks. It was nice having the house to themselves. And at least they got to finish watching a film this time. Mary said she enjoyed the film, but didn’t seem as emotionally invested in it as much as Andy had expected.

The evening went on and they made their way to Andy’s room. Connor’s empty room was situated on the second floor, along with the bathroom and boiler cupboard, while Andy’s loft room was on the third floor.

They were kissing as they entered the room, Andy walking backwards. Their hands were all over each other for the rest of the night. They slept together again, with Mary mentioning they could both have a shower in the morning.

She’s amazing, Andy thought, completely enthralled by her. He didn’t think he’d ever been happier. Lying there with Mary, he felt like he’d been lying with her all of his life, and could hardly remember what it felt like to sleep alone.

Andy fell asleep with Mary in his arms.

He drifted awake at some point in the night, vaguely aware of a soft creaking sound.

Becoming more conscious, he recognised the creaking as floorboards shifting. The landing on the second floor. At first thinking it was Connor in the night, Andy remembered that his housemate was away for the weekend, and opened his eyes. The streetlight outside bathed his room in a murky yellow light.

Mary was not in the bed.

He looked around the dim room, wondering where she was.

Rapid thuds suddenly echoed downstairs, rattling the walls. Back and forth along the landing, someone was running frantically. There was definitely someone downstairs. Why were they running? What the fuck is going on? Is Mary running around down there? Suddenly the sounds stopped.

The deep silence overwhelmed Andy. His heart pounded in his chest, sweat dripping from him. He tried to stifle his heavy breaths, not wanting to make any sound. What was she doing?

A soft creak came from downstairs, sounding louder in the quiet house. Then another creak. Someone walking up the stairs, slowly.

It’s just Mary, Andy told himself. Probably just gone to the toilet.

He considered getting up and checking on her, to help her back into bed, but something kept him in place. The possibility that it wasn’t Mary, maybe.

The eerie darkness of the room sent another chill through him. The steps continued to creak, growing louder. Something wasn’t right. A normal person wouldn’t move that measuredly, so quietly.

Fuck, maybe it’s a robber? Might be a break-in. His mind raced wildly. Oh fuck, Mary…

The soft steps reached the top of the stairs and stopped outside his door. After the floor creaked, maddening silence filled the room.

Andy suddenly felt very exposed and helpless in the dark room. He searched for a possible weapon, but couldn’t see or think of anything that would be useful. His bed creaked as he turned his head, and then he froze, holding his breath.

Heavy thuds pounded his door, shaking the frame. The loud knocks echoed through the room, igniting the air.

Andy called out, but his weak voice was lost within the thunderous pounding. He jumped up in the bed, ready to run—ready for anything.

It’s just Mary. It’s just her sleepwalking… and fucking banging on my door!

The door visibly curved and shook from the impact of the pounding. Then the knocks stopped. Andy’s shallow, heavy breaths were the only sound in the room.

“Who’s there?” He finally called out. “Mary?”

Silence.

Andy shifted his position, inching closer to the door. He slowly crawled across his bed.

He strained to hear anything more, but nothing else came. No further floorboard creaks. No impacts of someone walking back down the stairs. Nothing.

Was the person still there?

He slowly reached his leg out of the bed, pressing his foot against the wooden floor. A sudden flush of fear came over him as he pictured a hand reaching out from under his bed, grabbing his foot, just like in the scary films. But of course, no hand came.

He stepped to the door. It’s just Mary, he told himself again, trying to calm down. He stopped himself before he reached the handle, having enough of the scary, dark room. Flicking his light switch on, the sudden burst of light stung his sleepy eyes, but it was preferable to darkness.

He swung the door open. No one was there.

The light from his room illuminated most of the stairs that led down to the second floor, but there were no signs of anyone.

I swear someone was there.

This still didn’t explain where Mary was, though. Fuck. The light switch was all the way at the end of the corridor, downstairs. He would have to walk through the darkness until he could turn on the lights below.

Collecting his phone from his bedside table, Andy turned on the torch function and went back to the stairs. He stood at the top for a moment, pointing the bright light from his phone towards the darkness below.

It’s just darkness. Mary’s still in the house somewhere, probably walking around. Nothing to freak out about.

He slowly, carefully made his way down the stairs, pointing his phone through the bannister on his right and checking out what he could see of the corridor below. Shadows and bright light danced around the silent house. Andy strained to hear anything he could, not wanting any more surprises. Despite his attempts at calming himself, his heart raced.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he paused and looked around. Nothing but moving shadows and silence. He just needed to get to the end of the corridor and reach the light switch, then he would feel a lot more comfortable looking around for Mary. A shiver ran over him as he thought of the banging on his door. Someone had definitely been outside his room.

He cautiously moved through the corridor, keeping his phone moving at all times. Each of his steps creaked on the wooden floorboards, sounding louder in the quiet house. The light switch waited for him at the top of the stairs that led down to the ground floor, a few feet away from him now.

A particularly loose floorboard creaked louder than the rest. Andy stopped, but another creak came from behind him. He paused, frozen, wondering if he had actually just heard another creak after he had stopped. Where his phone didn’t point, darkness swallowed him all around.

A cold sensation tingled the back of Andy’s neck, like a static buzz in the air. No, not like static, like breathing. A presence, very close behind him. No, don’t freak out, no one’s there, he told himself. Just when he considered moving again, ignoring his overworked mind, another cold breeze blew over him. He thought he heard a soft sigh in the wind, something audible. Andy shivered, trying his hardest to keep his cool.

Tensing, he built up the courage and turned around.

The corridor was empty. Of course it was. Fuck sake, Andy, that’s enough.   

He shook his head, turning back towards the light switch, and saw a shadow flash across the phone light.

He startled back, crying out. Steadying his breath, he saw that nothing was there. Just the shadows moving as his phone moved. Just his mind playing tricks on him.

Sighing, he reached for the light switch and turned it on. Blinking back the brightness, he immediately felt safer in the light.

The bathroom door was open a little, but looked empty within. Could check Connor’s room, he thought, but decided to check downstairs first.

He made his way to the front room on the ground floor, moving cautiously. A static sensation was in the air as he came to the dark room. Looking through the open door, he saw the TV was on, showing a black screen.

There was Mary, lying on the sofa with a blanket over her. Andy’s shoulders sagged as relief washed over him. He sighed and went to her. Feeling it was better to keep the light off, he laid his phone on the table, pointed upwards to still give the room a little light. He gently shook her shoulder.

Mary stirred, murmuring softly as she blinked awake.

“Hey, hey,” Andy said quietly. “Hey, sleepy.”

Mary looked around, squinting. “What happened?”

“I was going to ask you that,” Andy said, watching her. Despite the weird circumstance, she was a vision in the early hours. The sleepy, unkempt hair look definitely worked well for her.

“Oh yeah,” she said, stifling a yawn. She pulled the blanket back and stretched, lifting up the T-shirt she wore and revealing her underwear. “I couldn’t sleep, and came downstairs to watch some TV. I must have fallen asleep.”

“Did you…” Andy considered his wording. “Did you hear anything earlier?”

“Earlier?” Mary asked, sitting up and looking at him. “No, I didn’t hear anything. Like what?”

Andy shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know. I thought I heard something, but it was probably nothing.”

Recalling the pounding on his door last night, a shiver ran through him.

“Come on,” Andy said. “Back to bed with you.”

He helped her up, holding her hips as she faced him. He kissed her, breathing in her scent. Her arms were frozen, as if she’d slept outside.

He tried to forget about the strange events. Maybe it really was all in his head.

When Mary left his house later that morning, Andy found himself alone with his troubled thoughts. Finally having a moment to consider things on his own, without Mary influencing him, he realised how messed up his situation was.

She was an amazing girl, but there was something seriously wrong. He just couldn’t forget about the pounding on his door, and the running around the house. And then there was her standing over his bed, and freaking out when he tried to wake her. That was more than just sleepwalking.

Just my luck, he thought. After years of being alone, I finally get a girlfriend and she turns out to be a weirdo. He shook his head. An amazingly sexy weirdo with big eyes and a fringe. She was just too perfect, in many ways.

But above everything else, he couldn’t deny the… presence he felt in the corridor. Something breathing on his neck. He could swear that someone was there next to him. 

The more Andy thought about it, really thought about it, the more he realised that she wasn’t quite perfect for him. Even ignoring the weird events at night. Mary wasn’t a big film fan—which was a shallow flaw, he knew, but still something that was important to him. But there was something else. Something like… a lack of empathy? A coldness to her? Something he couldn’t quite place.

He knew one thing though; he couldn’t spend another night with Mary. He wouldn’t feel comfortable seeing her again. Not right now.

Andy dropped onto his couch, his phone in hand. Feeling like it was a crazy thing to do, he Googled Mary Madina.

Not many results seemed relevant. An American high school girl, an Italian lawyer. He added her hometown, ‘Reading’ to the search field. Mary’s Facebook profile came up in the search results, along with her LinkedIn page. No Twitter or Instagram or any other social media platform he could see. Her portfolio site came up, showing her illustrations, along with a few hits on Deviant Art and some other artistic websites.

Andy replaced ‘Reading’ with ‘London’. Mary said that she’d spent some time there before.

One result mentioned Saint Thomas’s hospital in London. A record of births in the hospital for the year 1987. He paused, looking away thoughtfully. The hospital I was born in. Why would her name be there? He knew that Mary had been born on the same day of the same year as him, but, she didn’t mention where she was born.

Andy clicked the link and read through the page. He found a mention of Madina, a patient admitted to the hospital, but there was no reason for admittance given, and no first name. He searched further, but found no more information. He’d seen enough, however. Someone called Madina was at the hospital he was born in, in the same year. Was Mary also born in the same hospital as him?

He went to her Facebook page, and found a photo of her and her mother, a middle-aged woman who shared Mary’s large eyes. Her mother had her own Facebook page, and Andy clicked on it. Considering his next steps, he decided to send her mother a message.

He introduced himself and asked if he could speak with her about Mary, giving her his Skype ID.

Then he was done, just having to wait. He called William in London, hoping for more advice. The phone rang but there was no answer. He’d be at work now, Andy thought, frowning.

He sat there, his mind flowing with ideas and dark thoughts. Who the hell was this girl?

Born in the same hospital as each other. At the same time, too? A chilling thought came to Andy. Born at the same time. To the same person? No… Andy wasn’t adopted. And Mary didn’t say she was, either. Besides, her mum looked like her, so she must be her biological parent. His stomach twisted, almost threatening vomit. Was he somehow related to Mary? Did she know, or suspect that? No, of course not. Fuck, I’m going crazy.

There was nothing else he could do. Andy paced the room, and decided to clean the kitchen to keep busy. He checked his phone constantly, hoping for a response from Mary’s mum on Facebook. His phone chimed eventually. A message from Mary. His heart raced as he regarded the new message icon, wondering what she would be saying.

Hey you, she wrote. Fancy coming around my place tonight? Dinner and drinks?

Rather than the usual elated state of excitement and anticipation, a strange sense of dread overcame Andy. He put his phone down and turned away from it, not knowing what to say to her.

After some time, another chime came from the phone, but a different sound. The tones of an incoming Skype call.

He raced to his phone, seeing the call coming from an unknown contact. He answered it. A familiar looking woman appeared on his screen. Short dark hair, thin, lined features. Mary’s mum.

“Hello?” she said. “Is this Andy?” It looked like she was sitting on a sofa, with picture frames behind her hanging on wallpapered wall.

“It is,” he told her. “Hello, Mrs. Madina. Thank you for calling me.”

“It’s Miss. And call me Susan.”

Miss? Andy thought. Not Mrs? So, divorced?

“I don’t have much time,” Susan told him. “You said you were a friend of Mary’s. Is she in trouble?”

“No, no,” Andy said. “She’s fine. She’s great. We’ve been spending time together lately. She’s a great girl.”

Susan smiled, creasing her wrinkled face. “Spending time together, huh? And you wanted to speak to me?”

“I wanted to ask you about her,” Andy said. “We were born on the same day in the same year. But, where was Mary born? What hospital?”

Susan regarded him, like she was considering the question. “I had her in Saint Thomas’s hospital, in London. You were born on the same day, you say?”

Andy felt another chill run through him. “Same day. Same hospital.”

“Oh my word,” Susan said. “That’s quite a coincidence that you found each other.”

Or maybe not a coincidence.

“She said she grew up in Reading,” Andy said.

“That’s right. We moved from London to Reading when Mary was… four.” Susan paused. “I’m sorry but I don’t understand what you want to know.”  

Andy hesitated, before saying, “I wanted to ask about Mary’s sleepwalking.”

Susan’s expression hardened. There was a sadness in her eyes. “So you’re good friends, then,” she said quietly.

Andy blushed. He hadn’t realised that mentioning Mary’s sleepwalking would indicate that the two of them were sleeping together.

Susan shook her head. “It’s a harmless condition. I wouldn’t worry about it. And it’s a rare occurrence, also.”

“But there’s more, isn’t there?” Andy said, watching her closely.

Her eyes shifted restlessly as she looked away, before she turned back to him.

“What do you know?” she asked in a hard voice.

A chill ran through Andy. So there’s more to know?   

“It’s not just sleepwalking, is it?” he asked.

Susan sighed. She looked thoughtful for some time, before she said, “Mary had a few issues when she was younger. Blackouts, the doctors said. She would fall unconscious on different occasions, for various lengths of times. She never remembered them once she woke up.”

“Did you ever find out what the blackouts were about?”

Susan paused, frowning slightly. “When Mary was nine, she fell ill with a terrible fever. While heavily medicated, I asked her about her blackouts. She said that was when she visited her boyfriend.” Susan shook her head, smiling weakly at the memory. “I didn’t know what to make of that, of course. She was nine. She had no boyfriend. She hardly had many friends at school. She didn’t say anything else, however. And I left it at that, not thinking much of it.”

“But that wasn’t it, was it?” Andy asked.

“No,” Susan said. “It went on after that. Mary would draw a lot when she was younger. Before she made a career out of it. Have you seen her work? She has a remarkable talent. Anyway, her favourite thing to draw at that age was her imaginary boyfriend. It was a little disturbing, but children are very creative, and I didn’t see any harm.”

“And there was no boyfriend?” Andy asked. “It was just her imagination?”

“Of course there was no boyfriend. But it was real for her. She would draw him all the time.”

“Do you have any of the drawings left? Of the boyfriend?”

Susan bit her lower lip as she looked away thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. Oh wait, there’s one around here, stuck up by a few old photographs. Hold on a moment.” She exited the screen, and was gone for a couple of minutes before she returned.  

She held up a photo to the camera. A crude child’s drawing depicted trees and grass, with a bright yellow sun and fluffy white clouds. A picnic was laid out on the grass, and a boy was drawn next to it. Two eyes and a big smile. His stickman body wore a yellow and black striped jumper, and curved lines came out of his head, like little antennae. What looked like a blue toy was in his hand.

Andy froze. He stared at the drawing, dumbfounded and speechless.

“Is everything all right?” Susan asked, lowering the picture. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, young man.”

Andy swallowed, struggling to speak. “Miss Madina, I have to go. Th-thank you for speaking with me.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry I have to go. I’ll… call you back another time.”

Andy broke the connection before Susan could say anything more.

His mind numb, Andy went into the kitchen and looked at the photograph stuck on his fridge. The one of him at the park when he was younger. His stomach lurched and his heart raced as he looked at the photo. There he was, around nine years old, in the park, wearing his old yellow and black jumper. The one he thought made him look like a bee. He held his favourite toy at the time, a blue dinosaur.

I never told anyone that I thought the jumper made me look like a bee, he thought. But Mary had drawn it—drawn him—with antennae sticking out of his head, like a bee. How could she have known that? At nine years old. How did any of this make sense?

And she saw this photo, yesterday when I cooked dinner. She picked it out and asked about it.

Another shiver rushed through him. He picked up his phone again and sat down to avoid standing on weak legs.

He replied to Mary. Tonight sounds great. What’s your address? 

Andy was a mess for the rest of the day, his mind swimming with chaotic thoughts. He considered calling the police. No, it’s just Mary. I might not know her full story, but she’s not a criminal, and she won’t try and hurt me. Would she…? Anyway, what would he even say to the police? My new girlfriend who’s been stalking me my whole life is… what, in love with me?

He tried calling William again, but there was still no answer. Then he considered Emma. Just Emma. When Andy’s friends were together, either in person or in a chat group, they tended to be sillier and unable to be serious, but on their own, they could be decent people to speak to. Especially Emma, who was the most empathic of his friends in Dublin.

When he called Emma, she could tell there was something wrong straight away from his voice.

“What has she done now?” she asked protectively.

“Nothing,” Andy lied. “Things are fine, it’s just… I’m not sure how much I really know her.” He wanted to tell Emma everything, but he didn’t know what he would say, knowing how crazy it all would sound.

“It’s okay to break up with her, you know?” Emma said. “If you’re not feeling it. People meet and get along all the time, but it doesn’t mean that the magic can’t fade, and you start to see the real person and realise that you don’t really want to spend more time with them. No one really meets anyone until like the fourth or fifth time you see them, anyway, and even then it can take months before you really see what they’re like.”

Andy grimaced, glad that Emma couldn’t see his face over the phone. “I know, I know. But it’s not that easy. How do I know that she won’t turn out to be a psycho when I mention ending things?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Emma said, sighing. “Grow some balls. Relationships are tough, especially ending them.”

“But—”

“I know you want everyone to like you. You’re the nice guy that gets along with everyone, and can’t stand it when someone doesn’t think you’re the best.”

Andy paused, frowning. “You don’t know me,” he said in a rather hurt, but playful voice.

Emma chuckled. “Better than you think, hun. It’s okay if people don’t like you. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you a better person, because you know what you want and what you like and don’t like. And girls love that; a man who knows who he is.”

Andy sighed, defeated. “I’m seeing her tonight. I think I’ll break up with her then. You’re right; I know you are. I don’t think I’ve really been feeling it for some time, if I’m honest.”

“It sounds like you’ve made up your mind already.”

Andy thought for a moment. “I think I have.” 

“I only want what’s best for you,” Emma said. “Now if you’d have brought her out some time to let us get to know her, I might have a better impression of her.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Andy said. “Okay, I should go. Thanks, Emma. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Emma wished him good luck and they hung up. Andy hoped that he would speak to Emma later, but a growing sense of dread built within him at the thought of seeing Mary tonight. 

Even without that fucking weird shit, Andy told himself, standing over my bed, running around the house at night, it would still be the same. As much as he really liked her—she was gorgeous, with an amazing body and great sex drive—he had to be honest with himself and realise that she wasn’t the best match for him. Maybe he needed someone who was more into the acting world… or at least someone who liked dogs. Someone who loved The Princess Bride. As shallow as he knew those things sounded, they were nonetheless important, and all made up parts of the person he was looking for.

Maybe he was just looking for reasons to get out of the relationship, in spite of all the weird stuff with Mary’s sleepwalking. Maybe there was just something horribly wrong at the heart of their relationship.

It’s not meant to be like this. It should be easy, simple. You should just know if you’re with the right person. Preferably with someone who didn’t draw a picture of you twenty years before you meet them…

Andy showered and got ready to meet Mary that night. Her place was just across the Liffey, wouldn’t take long to get there. He mentally planned their conversations later, preparing to confront her, and guessing what she would say; but he couldn’t even imagine what she would tell him.

 The sky was darkening to a deep blue as he made his way to her. There was several people dressed up for the Saturday night already; a few large groups of stag and hen parties, loud and drunk. Andy ignored them all, his mind racing.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from William. Sorry dude, William wrote. Working late. You good bro?

Andy considered his response. There was nothing that William could tell him, anyway, that he didn’t already know. His mind was made up already.

All good! Andy replied. Just missed your voice. Call you tomorrow dude.

Another person Andy hoped to see again, after tonight. His heart raced the closer he got to Mary’s house.

She lived alone in a house South of the Liffey. She had said she moved there as an Air BNB deal, but the owners eventually rented the place to her on a semi-full time basis, while they were away in Europe. 

Andy rang the doorbell, and had never felt so nervous before in his life while he waited there. He realised his balled fists were shaking, his mouth dry. What was he expecting? 

Mary opened the door, beaming at him and giving him a big hug and a deep, long kiss. Despite his troubled mind, Andy couldn’t help but feel a stirring within him as he held her. She wore a summer dress that hugged her waist and showed just enough of her toned legs.

Focus, Andy told himself as she led him into the house. Don’t let your guard down.

The house had an old couple’s feel to it. Flowery wallpaper, decorated doilies over the side tables and shelves, with an old musky smell in the air. 

“How about a tour, mister,” Mary suggested. “Before I get started on dinner.”

“Sure,” Andy said, letting her lead him by the hand around the house. He grew numb as he tried to build up the courage to confront her. 

Mary showed him up to her bedroom, where she sat down on the bed and waved her arms around the room. The double bed was against the middle of the wall in front of him, with a cluttered dressing table beside it, and a wide wardrobe on Andy’s left. Night had fallen, and darkness showed outside the large window on his right.

“Very nice,” Andy said, though his voice felt flat.

“What’s wrong?” Mary asked, frowning.

Andy shook his head. He swallowed through his dry throat, unable to speak. Why was this so hard?

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked again, rising from the bed.

I spoke to your mum. No, he couldn’t say that out loud. It sounded too weird.

“Did you…” he began. There was no other way around it; he just had to say it all. “Did you know me, when you were nine?”

Mary stared at him, her expression frozen. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were born in Saint Thomas’s hospital,” Andy said, his stomach churning. “The same day of the same year, and in the same hospital. Maybe even right at the same time.”

Mary took a step back, her mouth opened slightly. She looked like she mouthed the word how but made no sound.

“Who are you?” Andy asked.

Mary shook her head, looking at him with wide eyes. “I’m still the same person. You know me.” Her face twisted as she fought back tears. “I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just… I just like you so much.”

Andy stepped back as Mary held her arms out to him. “Andy,” she said, choking back tears. “We’re meant to be together. I… I love you.”

“How did you draw a picture of me when I was nine,” Andy said, his voice gaining strength. “When you were nine.”

“I don’t know… what are you...?” Mary looked around the room, as if searching for help. “I love you. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that all that you’ve wanted?”

“I want to break up.” The words left Andy without him realising.

A silence came over the room.

Tears streamed down Mary’s face, her arms reaching out to him again. “Andy,” she said weakly. “Don’t do this.”

“You lied to me. About everything. I don’t know who you are. And I don’t want to know.”

Mary moved closer, forcing Andy to step back against the door. He suddenly felt afraid, like he shouldn’t be there in that room alone with her. He was right; he didn’t know her at all.

He grabbed the door handle behind him without looking and opened the door. “I’m sorry,” he said to Mary. “I can’t do this. I need to go.”

Mary’s shoulders sagged, her knee’s weakening as she hugged herself. “Don’t leave me. Wasn’t I good for you?”

This was too much for Andy. He was never good around crying girls, and couldn’t stand seeing Mary like this. He left the room and closed the door behind him. When he reached the stairs, he stopped and thought about his actions.

In the silent corridor, a creaking sound became audible. It was a low grinding, like creaking metals. Andy looked around, his heart racing.

A heavy thud came from Mary’s room. 

Without thinking, Andy ran back into the bedroom, pushing the door open. Mary lay there on the ground.

“Mary,” Andy called out. He flung himself down beside her, frantically feeling for a pulse.

As he saw she was conscious, a low trembling came from one of the walls. A glass cabinet rattled, hanging picture frames shaking.

Andy looked around the room. What the fuck?

A photo on a table slammed down forcefully. Andy spun towards the sound. He looked back at Mary, who still appeared to be unconscious, a serene look on her face.

The bedroom door thudded. Loud, booming pounds, like Andy’s door had done the other night.

Andy froze with fear as the door shook, the thuds growing heavier and louder, shaking the entire house. The door jolted, shifting from its hinges a little.

It’s coming in, Andy thought. Oh God, it’s coming in.

He looked desperately around the room. The bed was beside him, but hiding under it would be too obvious. Behind him was the large wardrobe, the old kind with wooden slats.

The door shifted from its frame once again as the pounding increased. Without another thought, he darted towards the wardrobe, pushing clothes back as he rushed in and slammed the doors shut.

The bedroom door burst open, as if a bomb had hit it, wood and debris flying into the room. The ceiling light bulb shattered, and the room suddenly darkened. A streetlight was just beyond the large window, casting the room in sections of light and dark.

Andy lay crouched in the darkness of the wardrobe, his pulse pounding in his ears. Through the wooden slats, he searched for the source of the exploding door. But saw nothing. Dust spread through the dim light shafts, but nothing else moved, and all was silent.

Andy held his breath, not daring to make a sound.

He felt something beside him, in the wardrobe. A pale face appeared out of the darkness, right next to his head. Piercing shrieks erupted from its wide mouth, scraggly hair wavering wildly.

Andy cried out, bursting out of the wardrobe and stumbling back. He fell against the bed and looked back at the wardrobe. Nothing was there. Just clothes swinging from hangers, and darkness.

He looked back at Mary’s body, but she remained the same.

Rising slowly, standing on weak legs, Andy looked around. His heavy breaths were the only sound in the dark, quiet room. 

Somehow, there was a familiarity from this all, but he couldn’t place it. He couldn’t think clearly about anything.

In front of him was Mary’s dressing table, littered with numerous sprays, creams, and other beauty products. The centrepiece, a tall oval mirror, caught his eye. Through the reflection, he saw the wall behind him. His heart jumped when he looked at the shadowed corner of the room.

He turned around, seeing the real corner, but didn’t see anything wrong. He looked back at the mirror. There it was. The shadowed corner looked the same, except there was more of a shadow in the reflection. The darkness spread further out on the ground.

Andy trembled as he moved closer to the mirror, trying to make out what that extra darkness was. He looked back at the real corner, and was sure that the shadows weren’t the same. He turned back towards the mirror. What is that? His curiosity moved his head closer to the mirror, so that his nose was almost touching the glass.

Three long points of darkness were spread out from the bottom edge of the shadow in the corner. Feet, Andy realised. The points sprang to life as a dark figure emerged from the shadows, rushing towards him. Andy jumped back and spun to face the real shadows. The dark figure was there! A thin, gangly shadow with a mess of hair flapping wildly around it. It darted closer, spreading its long, clawed hands.

Andy screamed, throwing his hands up protectively. A cold wind rushed through him as the shadow reached him. A dull, numbing sensation washed over him; somehow feeling both calm and familiar.

A baby’s cry echoed in Andy’s mind. He was no longer in Mary’s bedroom, but saw a very different scene. Babies in small cots in what looked like a hospital room. The smell of disinfectant was heavy in the air. A nurse’s footsteps echoed along the corridor beyond the room. His focus somehow shifted to the nametag of one of the babies. He read his own name, Andrew Enslin.

Cries came from the cot next to his. A baby wrapped in a pink blanket. Andy read the name of the baby, knowing what it would be. Mary Madina.  

Baby Mary wailed and struggled under her blankets. And then she stilled, moaning softly before becoming silent. Deathly silent. Her chest stopped moving. A familiar cold sensation washed over Andy—however it was that he was seeing and feeling these things. The light distorted over baby Mary, appearing to move towards her; into her. Suddenly the baby burst to life, crying louder than before.

She died, Andy realised. Died and then, what, something went into her?

The hospital room wavered, shifting like a reflection in water. Another scene came to Andy. A little girl of about seven or eight, drawing on a table in a house. He recognised the crude style of the drawing, and also the eyes of the dark haired young girl. Mary. The little girl smiled as she put her crayons down, and then crossed her arms over the table and laid her head down, closing her eyes.

The room distorted, blurring like it was being sucked into a great vortex, becoming streams of light. A new scene popped up. Andy recognised his younger self right away. He was with William in his room. They were pretending to be different people, making up characters. When little Andy paused, looking around the room, the older Andy remembered the moment. He suddenly remembered feeling something at that time. Something cold, and yet comforting.

So that was Mary, his disembodied presence thought. It’s been her the whole time. My whole life.

The vision wavered once again, distorting and blurring. Andy was back in Mary’s room. She still lay by his feet.

She’s been with me all along. That person William and I saw that night. It wasn’t a short person. It was a kid, a young girl. Every strange presence I felt, every face I thought I saw… my personal ghost has been growing up alongside me my whole life.

The walls of Mary’s bedroom creaked and grinded. A thrumming vibration filled the room, shaking the walls and rattling objects. A hairdryer flew from the nightstand. Andy ducked quickly, causing the hairdryer to smash into the opposite wall.

He steadied himself as the dark room continued to shake.

“I know who you are,” Andy called out. He had to do something. It’s still Mary, he told himself. “Just tell me what you want, Mary.”

The mirror behind him shattered, spraying glass. Andy braced himself as the tiny glass shards showered over his back. Dozens of tiny cuts opened up over his arms and tore at his shirt, sending spasms of pain through him.

Andy planted his feet, fighting through the stinging pain, and looked around the shaking room. “Mary,” he cried out, his voice hoarse. “Nothing has changed. I still want to break up.”

His stomach lurched, sweat building under his bloodied T-shirt. A porcelain figurine flew across the room, shattering against the wall beside him. The wardrobe doors burst open with a loud bang, the clothes within flapping wildly as if possessed. 

Don’t push the scary spirit, he said to himself. But… no, he would have to. He had to be strong.

“Mary!” he called out to the room, stepping and looking around. “I know it’s hard. And I’m sorry.”

Andy paused, breathing heavily. Why was this so hard? Come on, you fuck, he berated himself.

Just a moment in time. Like every other moment.

“But the truth is,” Andy went on, “that I haven’t been sure about us for a while. I’m sorry, I really am. I can’t be the person for you.”

“Why not?”

Andy spun. Mary stood before him. The real Mary, in her summer dress. Her face was paler, her eyes darker.

“Mary,” Andy said, taking an apprehensive step closer. “I know you love me. I know… you showed me what you are. But…”

“But you haven’t learned to love me. Yet.” Mary’s voice sounded muted, distant, as if an echo of her real voice. She stepped towards him, her movements stiff, jittery, her knees buckling slightly with every step.

Andy reeled back at the ghastly sight. She looked like someone who had risen from the dead, whose bones weren’t fixed right.

“You may not love me like this,” Mary went on, gesturing at herself. “But you will, once your soul is free. Once we have left our bodies.”

Andy froze, his heart pounding in his chest. What was she saying?

“We can both leave this world together. And be with each other forever.” Her knee buckled with her next step and she faltered, steadying herself. “Ever since I saw you in the cot next to me, when we were born, I knew you were the one for me.”

“Who are you, really?” he asked. “Baby Mary died in the cot, I saw it. What are you?”

Mary paused, a sad, painful expression contorting her face. “Someone who loves you more than that baby ever could have. I’ve spent my whole life loving you, and now we can finally be together. Once we leave our bodies behind.”

Andy watched her, his face twisted into a horrified grimace. She wanted to kill him. Kill them both.

“No, Mary,” he said, trying to compose himself, his voice shaking.

“I just wanted you to love me,” she went on. “Love me for who I am, before our souls joined together.”

“I don’t love you,” Andy said, his voice hardening. “And I won’t, ever. You can’t make someone love you.”

“People change,” she said, stepping closer. “I can change. You can change.”

“No, Mary. It doesn’t work like that. People are either right for each other or they’re not.”

Mary slowed as she came to him. Through the dim light, he saw her eyes were pure black. She looked over his bloodied arms and torn shirt.

“W-What did I do to you?” she asked in a low, shaken voice. She raised her hands to her horrified mouth. “Oh, Andy. I didn’t mean…”

He let her reach him, mostly from being frozen and not knowing what to do. She wrapped her arms around him. Andy remained still for a moment, before he returned the hug.

A heavy scent of dirt and decay was in the air, like something rotting under a hot sun.

Ignoring the odour, he held her tight, despite the sharp stabs of pain from the cuts on his back and arms. Her warm skin somehow seemed to grow colder. He squeezed his eyes shut, causing tears to drop. Despite the fear of losing his life, a deeper sense of compassion overwhelmed him. 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said quietly. I don’t even know if I know how to be loved. I just wanted to be happy with someone. But I don’t know if I can be.

Mary leaned away to look at him. Andy pulled her back into the hug, holding a hand gently behind her head. She tightened her embrace, whimpering.

“I… I love you so much.” She choked back tears. “I’m sorry I wasn’t someone you could love.”

Tears streamed down Andy’s face. He squeezed her, wishing it didn’t have to be like this.

“I just wanted us to be together,” she said in a fading voice.

Mary’s hands fell, her body becoming limp in his arms. He steadied her, adjusting his hold to keep her up.

He remained holding her, sobbing into her shoulder as the realisation hit him. Mary had gone.

“Mary…” was all he could say, but his voice was hoarse, his mind numb.

He wanted to tell her that he did love her, but they just weren’t right for each other. He wanted to talk to her again. To spend time with her. But now she was gone.

Dull sounds came to Andy, and he focused on the room. Outside, far away, he made out the sounds of sirens. Someone must have called the police, he realised. So all that shaking wasn’t just in his head.

Andy slowly sat himself down on the ground, bringing Mary’s lifeless body with him. He remained there, holding her, crying, until the police made their way into the house. 

The director yelled cut.

Several people in old, ragged clothes broke character, leaving the cobblestoned street. A ringing bell signalled the beginning of lunch.

Andy left his last position and made his way to the buffet tables with the rest of the extras.

While others mingled and made small talk in the queue for food, Andy remained quiet, keeping to himself. It had been a year since he’d met Mary Madina, but she was still with him. Not in the spiritual way that she had visited him before, but Andy thought of her often, replaying his time with her, wondering if he could have done anything different.

A girl had died in his arms. It didn’t matter that she was possessed by some evil spirit. She was still a girl; someone he cared for. Someone who loved him.

Andy picked up a paper plate and began spooning food onto it, shuffling further along the long table.

He thought about that final night with Mary almost every day. He still didn’t know where she had come from, but it was clear that she—whoever she was—had taken possession of a newborn baby who had died in the cot. In a way, she gave life to a baby who had died, Andy sometimes thought, trying to see Mary as someone good.

He looked around the Victorian era set. He had come a long way in a year, having moved to Galway, on the west coast of Ireland, after landing a small acting gig for a big budget film. Once he had managed to clear his head enough after the ordeal with Mary, he had thrown himself into his work, and found that he was actually a better actor for it. Particularly in dramatic thrillers and the more emotionally driven roles.

Next to him in the queue, a girl with long brunette hair leaned across him, picking at some food with tongs.

“Oh, sorry to get in your way,” she said, looking up at him with large, brown eyes. “Just barging into you, there.”

“No problem,” Andy said, glancing at her but keeping his focus on the containers of food.

“Hey,” the girl said, pointing at him with a tong. “You’re the guy that was wearing a Blade Runner T-shirt this morning, right?”

Andy looked at her. She was tanned and petite, large teeth and big eyes. And had a fringe.

“Hello?” she said. “I say something wrong? Sorry, that wasn’t you, was it?”

Andy blinked, clearing his throat. He hadn’t realised he had frozen. “That was me,” he said, attempting to sound light.

The girl smiled at him. “Great. I love that film. Actually, this might sound strange, but, are you free tonight, by any chance?”

Andy paused. He hadn’t been with anyone since Mary. Not even gone on a date. It took him some time before he was comfortable going out with his friends again. He’d told the police that Mary had committed suicide in front of him, and he was unable to stop her. He couldn’t even be honest with his closest friends. How do you tell people that a spirit had become attached to you as a newborn, and visited you throughout your life, and then wanted to be with you forever by killing you? That just wasn’t something you brought up over dinner and cocktails.

“Tonight?” Andy said, trying to keep his voice even. “Uhh…”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I know it’s short notice, and we don’t know each other. But I have a spare ticket to the open air cinema tonight, to see Blade Runner. I wasn’t going to go, but when I saw your T-shirt this morning, I thought: this is fate.”

A chill ran through Andy.

The girl smiled at him, curling a strand of hair over her ear.

“Do you believe in fate?” she asked.

Andy looked at her, not knowing what to say.