The click from the kettle and the bubble of the water against the metal sides snapped Robert’s eyes wide open in shock. He looked down, he was still in his work shirt and trousers. He still held the speeding ticket in his hand as if nothing happened. He dropped his post and ran into his bedroom, the wardrobe doors were closed and, upon inspection Robert found that all of his clothes were in the exact spaces as they were before he’d chucked them out, if that ever happened. Had Robert really just imagined how he’d kill himself? It couldn’t be he thought, he was sure he had died in that cupboard.
Robert made his way to the bathroom to inspect himself. He was fine, the tie hadn’t even left a mark on his neck. To try and calm himself down a filled his hands with cold water, letting it overlap his fingers and fall into the sink. He splashed it onto his face and the cold water hit him like a brick. This was real, he was still alive. Then what the hell had happened to him?!
Almost as if on cue there were three meaningful knocks on the door. Each one sent a chill down Robert’s spine.
Robert had seen enough horror films to know what would happen if he were to open that door. He knew that if he was watching some other helpless soul doing this he’d be screaming at them with every inch of his body for them not to open the door. Every scary film made in the last 20 years told him that opening that door would be the worst thing he could possibly do. And yet, even as he thought this he was making his way to the door. It all seemed too much of a coincidence, and he had to find out what was going on.
Robert placed his right hand on the door handle and his left on the door for support. He paused. Slowly he pulled the handle down and opened the door.
Standing in Roberts’ doorway was a tall, thin man. He had a defined face, each bone seeming to pertrude from his face as if trying to break free of his skin. His eyes were narrow slits, so narrow in fact Robert struggled to see anything beneath the eyelids. The man had no eyebrows nor eyelashes. His hair was black but thin and looked to be falling out. To Robert the man looked as though he was loosing a fight for his life. He wore a black suit, along with a black shirt and black tie. The only colour on the man came not from his skin which held a grey tint to it but from the red handkerchief which was just poking out of the blazer pocket. Although Robert saw all these things he felt he would be unable to describe the man without him being directly in front of him.
The man did not smile nor even acknowledge Roberts presence at the door. Nevertheless Robert was intrigued by his arrival and extended a welcome.
“Hello” Robert said calmly and politely.
“Good evening Mr. Simms, it’s truly a pleasure to meet you.” The man extended a bony hand. Robert paused, uncertain to make contact with this stranger but trying to be polite as ever shook his hand. The hand felt bitterly cold in Roberts’ warm one. “I’ve heard many things about you Robert, may I call you Robert?”
“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Robert dropped the politeness, something about this man was all too much.
“Where are my manners!” the man exclaimed in a sarcastic tone. He reached into his pocket with a smirk which stretched his lips further than was apparently comfortable for him. He pulled out a business card and handed it to Robert.
Robert took it from the man, being careful to avoid another touch of the mans unusually cold hands. He looked at the card, it was entirely black on one side, Robert turned it over, again black but on this side, in small red ink was; ‘MR Derrick Iablo’
“That’s Iablo as in e-ablo by the way, people always seem to struggle with that. So Robert, may I come in so we can have a chat, I think its best that I should.” The smirk had faded and before Robert could even reply the man, Mr. Iablo was bustling past him and into the kitchen. Robert speechlessly followed him into the kitchen and stood leaning against the door frame watching the man help himself to a chocolate digestive from the biscuit tin on the worktop. He showed one to Robert as if to say ‘don’t mind do you’ but took a bite out of it anyway.
“Nice place Robert, bit small, but you don’t need much room if you’re on your own I guess.”
Robert stood silently. He was still dazed about the whole situation. First he’d thought he’d died, then he was fine and now this strange man, this Mr. Derrick Iablo was in his house acting as though they were life long friends.
“I can tell what you’re thinking Robert and don’t worry all will be made clear. First of all, you’re not really dead, well, not any more anyway.” Iablo made a noise that might have resembled a laugh but Robert couldn’t have been certain.
Robert seemed to find his voice again and with a slight croak he asked the man why he was there.
“Well to help you of course Robert!”
“I’m sorry but I... What do I need your help with?”
“With life of course my dear boy! Don’t worry I’ve heard it all before, I know all about you.” The smirked had returned and doubled, Robert noticed the skin was cracking under the strain of the smirk but Iablo seemed unaffected by this. “You’re not a very happy chap are you Robert, you never have been, sure you’ve faked it to please your parents, you’re actually very nice don’t get me wrong, but it’s not fair that you can’t be happy. You need that spark Robert, the spark of happiness that you were looking for in the mirror? Yes I saw that as well, don’t play coy with me. It’s real!”
Although put to him in a condescending manner Robert was forced to agree with him. Even when he was a child he wasn’t happy, but he got by, he pretended, partially to keep his parents happy, partially to stay out of counselling but most of all Robert didn’t want his parents to suffer the social stigmatisms they’d undoubtedly face from having a depressed child.
Christmas time was the hardest, getting all those presents and having to fake joy, he loved the toys he got, he loved his parents he just couldn’t feel the happy warm feeling he knew he should around that time of year. The same thing happened on his birthday as well. He didn’t want to seem like some brat so it made sense to him to hide it all, he knew it was strange but that didn’t mean he wanted anyone else to know.
“It’s not fair, that’s why I won’t have to put up with it much longer.” Robert had dropped the politeness now, this man knew too much and Robert didn’t like it. The thoughts of Christmas had struck a chord and Robert’s patience seemed suddenly dried up.
“No, no, no Robert! We can’t have you doing that. It’s so easy to fix, you’re special to me Robert. I can give you the spark.” He paused considering his next words carefully. “That’s why I saved you.”
“Saved me? Saved me from what?”
“Let’s not play games boy, you just tried to kill yourself, you were hanging yourself in that wardrobe in your bedroom.” He paused as if considering his next words carefully. “But I changed that.”
“Wh-?” Robert began but was to stunned to formulate any real questions or words for that matter.
“Robert I’m going to make you an offer, and I’d like very much for you to hear me out without interruptions please.” The tone reminded Robert of a school teacher trying to explain something to an inattentive class. “Robert, you can have a good life if you could enjoy it, so for you to have that spark, that ability to make you happy, all you have to do, is ask me for it.”
Iablo stood silent for a while allowing Robert to take in what he had said before he continued.
Robert stood stunned. Could it really be true? All that he ever wanted could be real just by asking this man for it. This man that knew too much to be a man. His angel? Roberts’ Knight in shining armour ready to save him from the world. Robert didn’t know where to begin, the entire time Iablo was talking Robert was taking it in and processing it, now that all seemed to come tumbling out in an unstoppable series of question.
“How did you save me? How do you know so much about my life? How do you know how I feel? Are you a magician? An angel? How could any of this be true?!” Robert slumped against the door frame, allowing it to take his full weight as his legs wobbled.
“Robert, I am not an angel, nor a magician, I am a friend who wants to help you.” If Robert had been looking at the man rather than at his own shaking hands he’d have seen the man struggling to contain such a sinister smile it could make a grown man run in fear. “Robert, ask me for help.”
“You can really help me?” Robert asked, still starring at his hands.
“I can.”
Robert stood, jaw slightly ajar. Suddenly happiness was in reach, this wonderful man was here to make him normal. All he had to do was accept his help and everything would be ok. Or would it? Surely this couldn’t be real? He must be going mad, the depressive like state he’d been in for most of his life had finally caught up with him. But there was something about Iablo. Robert couldn’t quite pick it out but then, staring at the tall thin man’s snake like eyes he realised what it was. The spark he had seen earlier that year, the one that had stopped him trying it before, that had kept him alive for those few months more, it was Iablo’s eye. Robert could see it now as he looked, a shimmer of what Robert craved, a glint of happiness. Robert now knew almost defiantly that Iablo wasn’t of this world however crazy that may be if he helped Robert something may actually happen, something may finally change.
“Ok, help me.”
Almost as if he had known what he was going to say, Iablo instantly patted him hard on the back.
“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “I’ll get out of your hair my dear boy. Get some rest, you died today after all!” And just as quickly as he had arrived the man sauntered out of Roberts front door and down the road.
Robert stood up shakily, barely aware of his own body. He seemed to float to his bed feeling terribly tired now. When he reached the foot of his bed he crashed down and fell instantly asleep.
***
If Robert had watched Mr. D. Iablo leave his South London flat he would have seen him turn left onto the road, take 3 steps then disappear as if he had never been there. The only evidence that remained of his presence was the faint smell of a bonfire and a burnt pair of footprints on the scorched concrete.
***
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