With her hands still clutching the cold ceramic, she freed her head from the gaping mouth of the toilet bowl. At first, she’d shrugged off the tremors she’d felt as another wave of morning sickness. It took a moment or two for the fact that a new earthquake had, in fact, hit to reach her. Davor’s voice was just calling to her from the living room.
“Sweetie, it’s 3.5 on the Richter scale! They said so on the TV.”
Mirela frowned. The TV was Davor’s life now, but she’ll be having none of that with the little one, making sure he spends his days properly.
She looked at her pregnant belly, instantly endured a reflux and hugged the toilet bowl in pain with crooked fingers. She knew there was no controlling her body, but felt ashamed all the same. What kind of a messed up world would little Hrvoje inherit?
“The officials are making a crisis statement on the news; let’s hear them out, shall we?” Davor was in full viewer mode.
Three months have passed since he lost his job. The company underwent ‘reconstruction’ during lockdown measures, and Davor reluctantly traded the firm office chair for a comfy apartment couch. It was on the two of them, now, to reconstruct life in general.
Now composed, she lifted herself up from the bathroom floor. They loved each other, and it was all that really mattered. It will take a lot more than a measly 3.5 Richter to shake her opinion. Before flushing, she quickly glanced at what was left from yesterday’s dinner. What it was that she’d expected to see there, she wasn’t really sure. What she did eventually see she definitely didn’t expect.
Pandemics and earthquakes were one thing, but that damn ghost will get to them in the end.
She screamed and Davor ran into the bathroom.
They were drinking coffee at the kitchen table. He tried to console her.
“It was this apartment or a basement on the city outskirts, remember that.”
“I know, Davor, but forgive me for not imagining our idyllic life together as a sequel of Paranormal Activity.”
At that precise moment the light bulb gave out and they went mute with horror. An instinctive look through the window brought on their much needed peace. Bathed in the weak light of the dawn, the city workers were rewiring the substation damaged in the earthquake. Perhaps she really was losing her mind?
Davor came to her side and put an arm softly around the shoulder.
“You think I’m crazy for a roommate, now that we’re living as a couple and the baby is on the way? Sweetie; the transparent bastard doesn’t even pay rent. It’s a dead end, we just have to be patient now. Love, are you ok?”
She put her head on his arm and took a big sip of coffee.
“Let’s run. We always wanted to travel, and Hrvoje would grow in a more civil environment abroad.”
She was slurring the words, a combination of fatigue and Xanax. He came in close and smooched her forehead.
“Where to, honey? Corona measures got us locked in the flat and we can’t afford to legally get out of the lease contract.”
She hated to admit it, but he was right. Even so; the damn ghost thing was certainly bad for them, and especially the baby. Maybe an exorcist could help? Churches were still exempt from the Covid lockdown, though, so maybe an ecclesiastical master of the dark arts? She made a mental note to ask the neighbor from the third floor, she was a believer.
“You know, honey, he’s not that dangerous, but just rather playful. We’ll get through it, I promise. It’s life, you learn to live with it.”
It was easy for Davor to make that statement. In the first three weeks he’d already learned to calmly eat from levitating plates. At this gesture she was both appalled and full of admiration at the same time. Still, this whole spirit business gave her the willies. When they first settled in the apartment, she could swear they were being watched during an act of intimacy. At the time she’d thought nothing of it but wasn’t so sure right now. She pictured the spectral face with the goatee watching them make love and shuddered. Davor must never know about this, or he would flip.
On the bright side, the ghost really did like the more benign pranks. Shadowy apparitions, radio static, sticking his tongue out at them from the mirror; all the usual poltergeist stuff. It sounded more dire than it actually was. The thing she hated the most was the otherworldly channel surfing till it found a football match.
Davor came back from a deep thought and spoke.
“I can’t forgive him for being an Arsenal fan though.”
They both laughed at this. He was right, after all, they were in love. And they loved the baby, and the baby would always be able to count on them. The light became unstable again, but the city workers were nowhere to be seen. An otherworldly cackle took over the apartment.
Nothing was fine, but still, they had each other. And that was completely fine.
© Igor Milković, 2020. All rights reserved.
Igor Milković is a lawyer, he runs and writes a lot of pub quizzes all over Croatia, and is one of the conrunners of SF&Rakija convention SkOn. He authored a lot of short stories and sometimes he even writes reviews of Asian movies. He’s a big fan of Tottenham Hotspur. He’s favorite color is orange and dogbreed Newfoundland. He lives, works and happily sleeps in his beloved Sisak.
Decameron 2020. 