The Other Side

There was a knock at his door. “Paul?” he heard Monica say. “Paul? You coming to dinner?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a second,” he replied. Then he got up and left his room. His stomach was already growling.

Paul’s room was a simple room. There were some flowers on the wallpaper, and there was a small plain blue area rug on the ground. There was a small bed with a simple blue bedspread and a pillow on it. The furniture, too, was modest. There was a nightstand with a clock on it and a small phone that was an extension of the line connected to the rest of the house. The dresser was also small, with three drawers and a mirror that sat on the top. There was a small wooden desk that he rarely used as a desk, and a closet which held some of his more formal attire. The entire room was lit by two lamps that sat on his dresser and his nightstand.

While Paul was downstairs enjoying the simple dinner of spaghetti and meatballs that Janet had cooked, he naturally assumed that his room would be undisturbed and that when he returned it would be exactly the same as when he left it. And on most occasions he would have been right.

But not this time.

Paul’s room also had two small windows, both of which he had left open a crack. There was a screen in one window, but on the other one it had fallen apart and been taken out. Janet had never gotten around to having it fixed, and Paul never noticed it.

Someone else had, however.

That particular window began to slide open and the wind blew in. A few papers that had been on the desk blew over. A leg stepped into the room, followed by another leg and then an entire body.

The dark figure slipped through the window and moved as quietly as possible through Paul’s room. Silently as it could it stepped past the small bed and the dresser. Without noise it crept past the closet and opened the wooden door.

There was a squeak. The figure paused in its actions. What if someone had noticed? But there was no noise. None of the inhabitants had heard. They were all downstairs, busy with their dinner. The figure slipped out the door and shut it. Then it crept quietly down the hallway.

Paul sat down on his bed after eating and began to change from his clothes into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He was tired after a long day at work and was eager to relax and read a bit before going to bed.

He picked up the book he’d been reading and began to read. Then he noticed something weird. A bunch of papers that he was almost positive had been on his desk were now on his floor. He went to pick them up and then felt a chill. He turned to close the window and noticed that the one without a screen in it was all the way open.

’Funny,’ he thought to himself. ’I thought I closed that window.’

He shut the window and frowned to himself. He was nearly positive that he’d shut it before he’d gone down to dinner. It was rather chilly outside, he wouldn’t have left the window open all the way.

“No. Don’t. Stop. “

His sensitive ears picked up on a voice down the hall from his room. A girl’s voice. He paused and listened harder. Monica’s voice.

“How did you get in here?”

The tone of her voice didn’t seem to be happy. He stepped towards the door and out into the hallway. It was empty.

“Peter? You shouldn’t be here.”

Another person’s voice answered. “C’mon babe, it’s okay,” the voice said. It was a man’s voice.

“No, Pete, it’s not,” Monica was saying. “You’ve got to go. How did you get in here, anyway?”

“I know my way around, babe. You’re mine.”

“No, I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s. I’m my own person.”

“Oh, don’t fool yourself, baby, you know you’re mine.”

“No, Pete, I’m not. You’re gonna have to go…” There was a long pause. “Mmmm..mmm..mmm….Peter!”

“Baby, give in, baby. You’re mine!”

“No, I’m not. Peter…let go of me…!”

“Oh come on, baby. Give into your passions.”

“Peter! I’m not having any…let me go!”

Paul sensed trouble. He had to break it up...but how? He stepped up next to the door and paused for a moment.

“Peter, let me go! Ugh! Get off of me!”

Paul lifted his right hand.

“You’re mine baby.”

Paul knocked three times on the door. “Monica?” he asked. “You okay?”

“Paul I – “ Monica began, but was cut off. “Mmm, mm mm mmm.”

“Monica?”

“Mmm, mm, mm.”

“Monica, I’m coming in,” Paul reported. He looked around the hall. One or two other people were standing in the hallway, looking towards the door. They had apparently noticed the noises as well. Paul glanced around. The others nodded their approval.

Paul tried the door but found it locked. He took a few steps back and threw his body up against the door. The wooden frame gave slightly under his weight. He tried again. It bent a little more.

“Let me help,” offered one of the other boarders, a man by the name of Tom. Paul nodded, and the two men together rammed the door.

The door fell in, crashing to the floor. Paul fell to the ground and Tom landed on top of him with a thud. Both got up and surveyed the room to see what was going on.

A burly teenager was easily identified first. He had pinned Monica to the bed, holding her down with one arm and holding her mouth shut with his other. When the door caved in, he jumped off, leaving a shaking Monica on the bed, and ran to the window. He attempted to get it open, but Paul, Tom, and several of the other bystanders managed to grab him and pull him away. Together they managed to restrain him somewhat.

As three of the men began to lead the teenager downstairs, Paul glanced over at Monica. She had curled herself up into a ball and was starting to cry. Paul sat next to her on the bed. He wasn’t sure what to do, but he couldn’t just leave her there alone.

He tapped her lightly on the shoulder, and she looked up, tear stained eyes staring at him. Neither spoke. He opened his arms silently and she threw herself into his embrace, sobbing into his shoulder.

It wasn’t clear to Paul why he offered himself to her like that, but he wasn’t sorry that he had. Monica, too, was uncertain of why she had begun to cry on the shoulder of someone who was only a slight acquaintance. But though neither knew why, both new that it made perfect sense. Paul felt a sense of something he had lost besides his memory. But as always it wasn’t perfectly clear.

A few moments later the incident had been reported to Janet, who had proceeded to call the police, who would come shortly to take the perpetrator away. She then ran upstairs to see to her daughter’s well being, but at the sight of her in Paul’s arms, sobbing away, decided that Monica was well cared for at the moment, and instead returned herself to the business of dealing with the police.

“I dunno, I’m just worried about him,” Joel confessed to Theresa, his boss/girlfriend/partner as they left the movie theater late that night. “I’ve never seen him so depressed.”

“I suppose it happens to everyone eventually,” Theresa commented with a sigh. “It’s hard to keep on living when you don’t who you are or where you come from.”

“Yeah,” Joel agreed. “I was just hoping that it wouldn’t happen to him.” They had reached his car by that point, and he opened the passenger’s side door for Theresa.

“That’s the good thing about working with animals,” Theresa pointed out.

“Yeah,” Joel agreed. “You don’t have to worry about their minds as much.”

There was a knock on Joel’s apartment at precisely seven-thirty the following Saturday. This did not please him. As much as he might be of a morning person, (which was not much at all) Saturday was still his day off, and he had gotten home late the night before.

“Joel? You awake?” he heard Paul’s voice call from the outside. Joel buried his head under the pillow. Didn’t Paul know that today was a Saturday? “C’mon, man, I know you’re in there!”

Joel groaned and heaved himself out of bed. He didn’t bother to even squint at his tired reflection in the mirror as he left his bedroom. If Paul was going to bother him on a Saturday morning, then he was going to let Paul know that he wasn’t happy about it.

He reached the doorway after about the seventeenth knock, and opened the door as slowly as possible. “What do you want?” he mumbled to the person outside.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Paul commented. “Though just barely. Do you have a hangover this morning or do you always look like that?”

Joel blinked and Paul came into focus. “Only when I’m awakened early on my day off,” he replied, stepping aside. Obviously Paul wasn’t going to leave, so he might as well let him in. “What do you want, anyway?”

Paul stepped around a pile of junk mail that lay at his feet and stepped over a pile of other assorted junk and made his way to the couch. He cleared a spot between two other piles of assorted junk and sat down in the middle. “I see you’ve cleaned,” he observed, skirting the question.

“Very funny,” Joel replied, moving to the small room which served as a kitchen. “Want some coffee?” he asked, figuring he’d need about a gallon of it to get himself awake.

“Sure,” Paul replied, seeming very much the opposite of asleep. Joel set up the coffee maker and pushed the button. He searched for a couple of coffee mugs that were usable amidst his dirty dishes.

“I know I’ve got some around here,” he mumbled to himself as he pushed aside plates and silverware and a screwdriver that had somehow made its way into his kitchen cabinets.

He finally located two ceramic mugs and set them down on the counter. “Now for the milk.” He opened his refrigerator and saw several half-full cartons. He took the closest one out and opened it. He sniffed it. Then he shook it. That one was bad. He tossed it over his shoulder into the garbage can and took out another one. This one seemed slightly better. He glanced at the expiration date. Miraculously it hadn’t passed yet. He set the good milk on the counter next to the coffee mugs and tossed the remaining two cartons in the trash.

By this time the coffee was done, and so he poured the black liquid into the mugs. “You want milk or something?” he called to Paul, who was reading some of the junk mail he had piled on his couch.

“Milk’s fine, yeah,” Paul called back. “Little sugar, too, if you have it.”

Joel managed to locate the sugar, too, and added it and the milk to the coffee. Then he carried them into the living room and set them on the low table in front of the couch. He sat down on a chair after pushing a few magazines to the floor.

Paul set down the magazine he’d been leafing through and sipped his coffee. “Thanks,” he told his friend.

Joel shrugged it off as he gulped down the caffeinated beverage. He would need as much of it as possible if he was going to manage to stay awake more than a few hours.

“We had someone break into the boarding house last night,” Paul said casually, and Joel nearly spit out a mouthful of coffee.

It wasn’t until noon that Paul left Joel’s apartment, feeling a bit more at peace than he had been during the last few days. Monica was safe now, her assailant safely behind bars (at least momentarily), and Paul was glad.

What he had gone to see Joel about so early on a Saturday was the strange feeling he’d gotten. He’d felt as though somehow he’d been in such a position before. He was fairly certain now that he had been in love with the woman from his dreams. His role as comforter with Monica had seemed so natural, though Monica herself in his arms was unfamiliar.

But there was more to it then he had revealed. While he had been comforting the girl, he had noticed something. A strange sensation he did not recall ever having felt before had appeared. It was not a scary sensation, nor was it one of pleasure. Instead it was oddly comforting. He had also noticed the light blue glow that normally appeared during the full moon had begun to appear around his hands. He had immediately panicked, and then hid his panic and managed somehow to eliminate the blue glow. It started him thinking.

After the blue glow had appeared with Monica, he had begun to panic for a few seconds, but had quickly clamped down on it. It had the opposite effect on the girl in his arms. She had calmed considerably, ceasing to shake, and her tears had eased a little.

Paul had a feeling in the back of his mind what that blue glow meant, but he wasn’t willing to accept it just yet.

“One day this will all make perfect sense,” he thought to himself as he returned to his room after leaving Joel’s.

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