In Every Universe

3

Bright hurriedly stood up from the bed. He ignored how his head throbbed or how the world spun. He needed to get out of here before Metawin came back.

He curses repeatedly as he pulls off the dextrose, shrugs off his hospital robe and bare-nakedly searches for his clothes.

Losing Kulap was heart-wrenching but this was a thousand times worse. This was a disaster.

He looks up and curses the heavens for the millionth time for this cosmic trick. "You will never play fair, will you? I don't want to see him anymore, I don't even want to hear his name anymore, do you understand?"

Bright snags his boxer briefs from a neat pile in the hospital drawer and pulls them on. He is about to put on his pants when the door squeaks open then hurriedly slams close.

"I am so sorry! I didn't mean -"

Metawin. Anger rages through Bright's body. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He hurriedly covers his ass and buttons the jeans. "I'm decent!," he hollers.

Metawin comes in the room, a big smile plastered on his face. Anyone would have fell for the con he was playing - his eyes sparkled, his cheeks had color, he emanated the energy of the rising sun.

But Bright was not so easy to fool. He could see the slight tremor in Metawin's hands, the rim of red around his eyes,  the slight twitch on the side of his mouth from the effort he put in smiling. The details that he could not escape if he tried was suffocating Bright.

"I have to go," he says gruffly.

Metawin is taken aback by the pronouncement but tries to hide it. "I don't think the doctor has seen you today. You should wait to get discharged."

"No."

Metawin thought about protesting but found he did not have the energy. "Okay then. I will explain to the nurses when they come back."

"Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Besides turning my brother's body into ashes, you mean? Not really."

A passing emotion flickers on Bright's face. "I cannot be here with you."

Metawin sighs. "Okay then. But just so we're clear a sinkhole caused this madness. Not my brother. Not me. I don't know what your problem is but you can't seriously think I can cause sinkholes. It's not like I have magic powers."

Bright merely shrugs.

Metawin waves him away.

Bright gathers his things quickly, stuffing them into his small messenger bag. He sees his phone and the note underneath it. He hesitates for a moment before ignoring all his better judgement and takes both.

He heads towards the door.

"You could have least said thank you. You're not the only one in pain you know."

The words were soft and barely audible but Bright could hear that voice from any distance, in any volume.

Bright turns towards Metawin, who was staring at the floor.

"Thank you," Bright says. "How do I pay you back?"

Metawin huffs. "Just tell me how you know me. Or at least how you know my name."

"I don't know you."

Metawin looks up, tear-filled eyes sharp as daggers. "Don't treat me like I'm stupid. Just go."

"I saw your name on the file when I came in."

"The list of next of kin." Metawin nods. "I thought so. Call me Win though. Everyone else calls me Win."

"Win."

"Feel better soon Bright. I am sorry for your loss. I bet your wife was lovely."

Bright stands there for a moment wanting to say three thousand things. But in the end he just nods again. "Goodbye Win."

He exits the room.

He doesn't look back.

He fails. But the door is already closed.

- - -

Bright and Kulap lead very simple, very monotonous lives.

They designed it that way.

Tucked in a small house far, far away from city center.

A small guitar shop with a photocopy machine as their source of income.

Neighbors knew who they were but rarely invited them to gatherings because they rarely said yes.

Yes, it was a marriage of convenience. They married so Kulap could legally escape her brutish parents and move closer to the city.  But that didn't make it any less loving - Kulap is Bright's friend. They grew up together and had an easy comfort around each other. They were each other's family.

Not a day passed that he didn't blame himself for her death.
He should have known the universe would conspire to hurt anybody who got too close.

The punishment of those left behind is to go on living. He still needed money to pretty much do anything in this world so even if all he wanted to lie unmoving in his own bed , he got up and did what needed to be done.

The next few months pass that way. Bright moving like a robot, doing things without passion and following a very strict order and protocol.

Routine is how he got through every day.

Routine and constant occupation is how he managed to rid his brain of Kulap...

And of Win.

Once in awhile he'd look at the note Win's note from the hospital. Once in awhile the temptation to call the written number would envelop him.

But that's an impulse he is quick to discard, whenever it arises he quickly diverts himself to chores.

Today like every day, he is dusting the guitars on display. Never mind that they were still gleaming and clean.

After this, he will have his usual slice of bread and coffee then go over his bills. Not that there would be much change from yesterday.

But it doesn't matter.

There is comfort in monotony.

He takes down one of the guitars and carefully tests if it's tuned.

Bells tinkle just as he bends down to adjust a string.

He turns towards the entrance, small smile ready for whoever was at the door - probably another lost commuter in need of directions.

Bright's smile fades fast.

The man at the door startles. "Oh. It's you."

"Metawin."

"Hello Bright."