I Love You to Death(3)

There are four permanent staff working here, five if Robert stops by, which is rare. There are a bunch of casuals too, but they rotate often enough that I never bother getting to know them. But the permanent people are me, the new guy, Sarah who does ordering, stocks shelves and serves like me, and Liam, who washes dishes, cleans tables and does whatever else needs to be done. Sarah is fine, easy-going and I guess we’re friends in as much of a way as I’ll ever allow. Liam is a dickhead, who I try to ignore most of the time. I’ve never liked him and I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon. He seems to talk to the new guy though. None of them know about me and my little problem, although Liam and Sarah obviously know about Sam. Sam used to come in most days to pick me up after work. He’d come in, browse the shelves if I was still working, maybe have a coffee, then when I walked out to go, he would stand up and kiss me, wrap his arm around my waist and whisper in my ear, "Let’s go home." God I miss that.
So when I finally come back, Sarah and Liam are sympathetic but noticeably distant. I’m sure they wonder what happened, it was strange, the circumstances surrounding Sam’s death, but Sarah at least is nice enough not to ask any questions. I appreciate her for that. I guess they’ve probably told the new guy too, he doesn’t ask me any questions either, just gives me those strange looks.
So now, here I am, back at work. Weeks after I lost Sam and still desperately trying to believe the words he left for me. Trying to live as he asked me to, but knowing really, I’m failing quite spectacularly.
∞

Today is Friday and the rain that’s been falling all week has finally stopped. When I arrive at work it’s only me and the new guy, who by now is no longer new guy, but Luke. We are now also on speaking terms or at least terms that don’t involve him just looking at me and me asking, "What?" in response. Now when I walk in, it’s more like –
"Hey Luke, want a coffee?"
To which I get. "Yep, long black, thanks Ash."
Then I make us both coffee, take his back to him and we get on with our day. We are usually the only ones in there for the first hour or so and we might chat some more, but it’s never anything heavy and it’s never anything personal. For that I’m extremely grateful.
Only today for some reason, something changes. Today when I take Luke his coffee, something startles him as I walk into the kitchen and his knife slips. It feels the same as any other morning, except today the knife slips. When it happens, it’s like watching it all unfold in slow motion and no matter how much I want to, I’m unable to turn away or stop it. I see the blood pool in his hand and reflected back in the shiny metal of the knife. I see drops fall to the floor, dark red stains on white tile and instantly my body reacts. My hands let go of the coffee mugs which fall and shatter at my feet. At the same time Luke says, "Shit," loudly and I feel the heat of the coffee on my legs. I ignore the burn because it’s not important right now.
This can’t be because of me, it’s too soon. This can’t be because of me.
I want to say something, anything, but it’s Luke who speaks first, turning and asking, "Ash, you okay?"
I glance down at his hand again, there’s a lot of blood and it’s hard to see how much damage he’s done to himself. I force myself to take a deep breath. I step over the hot coffee that’s now all over the floor and walk towards him.
"Ash?" he asks me again. "Are you okay?"
I nod my head before grabbing a towel and pressing it to his hand. I don’t look at his face, but keep my eyes on the towel. The blood isn’t soaking through yet and I hope that it won’t. If it doesn’t, it won’t be that serious. If it’s not that serious then Luke will be alright.
"I’m okay Ash, it’s okay," Luke says softly, closing his hand around the towel. "Just a hazard of the job," he continues, a small smile on his face as he bends down to look at me. "It’s not the first time I’ve done this."
This is as close as I’ve ever been to him and it’s making me uncomfortable. I should step away, but for some stupid reason, I do the complete opposite.
"You need to wash this cut," I say quietly as I pull him towards the sink.
I turn on the water, trying to get the temperature right before I gently move his hand under. I hear him wince as the warm water washes over the cut but he doesn’t pull away. I keep my eyes away from his face but find myself watching our hands, my fingers as they gently wash away the blood. His blood is on my hands now and I can’t help but think how true that could be, how very likely.
I have to move away, the sight of that cut and the blood is more than I can stomach right now. I rinse my hands quickly, I feel sick and I have to get away from him. The blood, I can’t stand it. His closeness, I can’t stand it. I need to get away from him but before I can, it happens. Suddenly I’m forced forward as I throw up into the sink. It happens before I can stop it. I taste the bile in my throat, feel my stomach as it clenches, forcing whatever’s in there out and I don’t even think about the fact Luke’s standing right next to me. It hits me before I can move and before I know what’s happening, I’m being sick in the sink.
"Ash, are you okay?" Luke asks me again, for what feels like the hundredth time.
I can’t answer him. I spit out the remnants of my stomach and hold my mouth under the water. I have to rinse a couple of times to clean it out and it’s only when I finally lift my head, do I realise that Luke is holding my hair back. That he’s been holding my hair back while I throw up. His other hand clutches the towel again, but I can’t see any more blood. I finally lift my eyes to his face and look at him. I must look like shit.