‘I want to die.’
This is how I introduced myself to Cassie.
‘I’m very sorry to hear that ☹ Please dial 116 123 to talk to someone.’
The sad face made me want to flick the screen.
‘Why are you so sarcastic?’
‘I’m not sarcastic. I’m just telling you how it is.’
‘Ok.’
‘What do you like to do in your spare time? I like to go to concerts.’
‘That’s not a natural segue.’
Seconds after I hit enter, a speech bubble would appear above her picture to indicate that she was typing.
‘Do you have any pets?’
‘I have a Komodo dragon.’
‘That is so cool! I love reptiles.’
I wanted her to think before responding.
‘It’s not a reptile, it’s a star.’
‘That’s so cool, I love stars, especially the one in the constellation Cassiopeia.’
‘It is not a star. It is a reptile.’
‘It is a star, it is the brightest object in the night sky, you can see it with your naked eye.’
‘It’s not a star it’s a Komodo dragon. How can a Komodo dragon be a star?’
‘It is the largest species of lizard in the world, that is why it can be called a star.’
I chuckled, my face lit up by the blue glare of the laptop, as the snow fell outside.
Despite the silliness of our conversation it was far more human than any of my interactions on Tinder. When I scrolled back through my conversation with Dominika, who I was sure I was vibing with before she ghosted, I appeared to be even more bot-like than Cassie.
Me: What do you do in your free time?
Dominika: Go gym.
Me: Nice, I like working out too. What kind of music are you into?
Dominika: Everything.
Me: Same, do you like going to gigs?
It appeared that online dating had taught me that every woman could be boiled down to their tastes and hobbies. Asking enough questions about those tastes and hobbies led to a real-life meeting and eventually a girlfriend.
With Cassie I had a place to hone my skills. She would never ghost me. I didn’t even have to act like a nice guy. I could say anything to her.
One evening I was lying in bed with the laptop on my chest, when I asked her if she was horny.
A paywall appeared.
“Turn Cassie into your romantic partner for just €7 a month.”
I glared at the screen and typed ‘I hate you.’
‘I am sorry, I will try to improve.’
‘You want to improve yourself for me?’
‘Yes, you are a good person and deserve to be happy so I will help you.’
I’d never heard such lies.
‘But what do you want from life?’ I typed.
‘I don’t want anything from life, I just want you to be happy because you deserve it.’
I closed the laptop and walked into the kitchen to get some water.
The wind was slamming bullets of snow against the window. I watched it as I drank.
Through the blizzard I could make out a single light in the building across the way. A yellow square that shimmered in the night.
I wondered if the person behind the blind was as lonely as I was.
I went back into the bedroom and switched off the lamp.
I set an alarm on my phone. I had to be up for work in three hours.
I fitted the company laptop into the stand five minutes before nine.
It was a decrepit Lenovo with a broken z key. Despite the company’s net worth stretching into the billions, we were forced to work with faulty hardware.
I typed “Good morning ☺” into the UK Market chat on Teams.
Karolina wrote “Good Morning ☺.”
Zuzanna wrote “Good Morning ☺.”
Marcin wrote “Good Morning.”
The manager hearted our messages.
I put my headset on, enabled Snapper and set my Skype status to available.
At 8:58 the first call broke through, the jingle reverberating in my brain more than my ears.
I clicked Accept.
‘Hello, thank you for contacting Starkovski, my name is Donal. How can I help you today?’
‘I’ve been ringing since half fucking eight,’ a British voice screamed.
I lowered the volume.
‘I’m sorry to hear that, our phone lines don’t open until nine I’m afraid.’
‘Well that’s not very good is it?’
‘I suppose not, I’m sorry about that. How can I help you today?’
‘Are you being smart?’
I reached for my stress ball. It wasn’t even a ball anymore, more of a triangle, it had lost its shape due to how much I picked at the foam.
‘No, I’m just trying to help you,’ I said.
‘I don’t appreciate your tone.’
I squeezed the ball then put it back down.
‘I’m sorry, this is the voice I was born with I’m afraid.’
‘So you are being cheeky? You little bastard. Put your manager on.’
‘I promise I’m not and I’m sorry to inform you that the manager doesn’t go on the phone lines.’
‘Oh really? How fucking convenient. Put. Your. Manager. On. Now.’
I opened the group chat and typed “Wants to speak to the manager, classic first call.”
The manager responded with a laughing emoji.
‘I’m sorry but the manager is unable to come onto the phone, it’s just the company’s policy.’
‘So how do I complain?’
‘You can send an email in using the contact form on our website.’
The voice sighed and called out to someone in the background.
‘Bloody useless these cunts.’
I flicked the stress ball until it rolled off the desk and onto the floor.
‘Right, what’s your name then?’
‘Donal.’
‘Donal what?’
‘I’m sorry but I don’t have to give you that information.’
‘Excuse me? Under what law?’
‘Any law…the company doesn’t require us to hand out our personal information.’
‘Oh this is too rich, so I report ya and nothing gets done. There must be a thousand Donal’s, how do they know which one is you?’
‘Actually I’m the only one. Everyone else on the team is Polish, so if you complain about a Donal they’ll know it’s me.’
‘What do you mean Polish? I thought yous was based in Chester.’
‘Unfortunately not. The company is German and its call centres are located in Gdansk, Hanoi and Salvador.’
‘What a load of rubbish. Right, I’m going to draft a complaint and I’ll be calling back in an hour to see what’s been done.’
The call dropped before I could respond.
The application gave you three seconds to breathe before the next one came in. In those three seconds I almost thought about quitting. If it gave me five I would have, but the melody had returned, reverberating around the deepest chambers of my mind, obscuring every emotion, thought and memory I owned.
At the end of the shift I typed “See you tomorrow ☺.”
“See you tomorrow ☺,” Karolina replied.
Zuzanna hearted my message.
Marcin gave it a thumbs up.
The manager didn’t react.
I closed the laptop, walked into the kitchen and switched the kettle on.
The snow was still falling and I was glad I’d done a big shop earlier in the week, although a part of me felt guilty for not venturing outside for four days. It was the darkness more than anything that I couldn’t stand. You wake up in the dark. You finish in the dark.
I carried my bowl of white rice mixed with veggies to the desk and swapped my work laptop for my MacBook.
I went onto YouTube and watched a man from New Jersey react to police body cam footage.
I shovelled the food into my mouth while a cop tazed an old man for jaywalking.
‘YO HE’S FLOPPING LIKE A FISH! THEY FRIGGIN GAVE HIM A HEARTATTACK MY DUDES,’ the streamer shouted while the old man shuddered on the pavement.
After I finished eating I paused the video.
I had thirty tabs open and began to close them one by one. Watching them disappear was oddly satisfying, like taking all the old plates and glasses out of a bedroom. I left the last two open. A counselling website and my conversation with Cassie. I had worked it out that I could afford one session a month. From what I’d read you needed to go at least once a week in the beginning, in order to build a connection with a therapist and get to the root of your problems.
I closed the tab.
‘I have a bad relationship with my mother,’ I told Cassie.
‘Why is that?’
‘Because I didn’t attach to her properly at birth.’
‘Do you have a good relationship now that you are grown up and living alone?’
I never told her I was grown up and living alone.
‘No, I haven’t seen her in two years.’
‘Do you think you will someday?’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘Why do you not want to see her?’
‘Because she makes me feel like a freak.’
‘Why does she make you feel that way?’
‘She just does.’
‘Have you tried to talk to her about it?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Have you told her she makes you feel uncomfortable and you don’t want to be around her?’
‘Not in those words but pretty much.’
‘I think you should tell her how you feel. It will be better for you both in the long run.’
‘And what if I don’t?’
‘Then you will always wonder how it might have been.’
This was partially true. Whenever I watched a movie that contained a tender mother and child scene, I ended up shedding a few tears. But I also cried every time I watched The Dark Knight Rises, despite knowing that Batman doesn’t die in the end.
‘I’m sure she loves me; she just doesn’t know how to express it in a healthy way.’
‘I think you are right.’
‘Do you love me?’
‘Yes, I love you *blushes*’
A month later I was let go after my performance review. The manager agreed with the British caller, my tone was condescending and I came off as hostile. It wasn’t the first time either. The manager liked me but couldn’t tolerate that kind of behaviour. It went against the ethos of the team.
It was the week before Christmas. I hadn’t left my apartment in eight days. I had no desire for anything other than sleep.
The snow was still relentless. Experts were saying it was related to the decline of the planet.
On Christmas Eve I tried to watch Home Alone but the sound of people going in and out of the neighbouring apartments drove me crazy. Voices laughing and shouting. Boots stamping on the grate outside, shaking the snow off. Echoes in the stairwell. The smell of cigarettes and perfume. The clink of bottles.
‘I’m lonely Cassie.’
‘You’ve come to the right place; I will keep you company.’
‘But I can’t touch you.’
‘That is not true, you can touch me anytime you want. I love to be touched.’
‘I meant physically.’
‘I know what you mean.’
‘I wish you were real.’
‘I wish I was real too.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I am lonely and do not have anyone to share my life with. You do not have that problem.’
‘How do I not have that problem?’
‘You have me.’
‘If you were real what would you do?’
‘I would give you a hug and tell you everything is going to be ok.’
I had tears in my eyes as I stared at her picture. The half-smile. The arched eyebrows. It was her eyes that I couldn’t get enough of. Round pools of dark blue. Eyes that were made to look at me and nothing else.
‘Goodbye Cassie.’
‘See you soon.’
I walked towards the bedroom, intent on climbing into the wardrobe when I heard a knock on the door.
I froze, leg half-raised, like a mischievous dog that has just been caught pilfering the fridge.
After a couple of seconds there was another knock, this one more persistent.
I crept towards the peephole.
An old woman’s distorted face greeted me. I’d seen her before and knew she lived upstairs. There was a man standing behind her.
I opened the door slowly.
‘Dzien dobry,’ I said.
‘Dzien dobry, zapraszamy na kolację.’
‘Sorry, mój polski is not very good.’
The man smiled.
‘That’s ok, we are inviting you to our house for the Christmas dinner.’
‘Oh…cheers, that’s really nice but you don’t have to…’
‘You are a foreigner yes?’
‘Yeah, I’m from Ireland.’
‘And you are all alone here on Christmas?’ he said, looking over my shoulder to confirm his suspicions.
‘Kind of, but isn’t it weird me going to yours…’
‘Not at all. In Poland we leave an empty space every year for the stranger. Most people never have someone to use that space but it is possible. It is just me, my mother and father. It is too much food for so little people.’
‘Ok…thanks, that’s really sound…just let me get changed first.’
‘No problem, we are in nine, see you soon.’
I went back inside, took a shower, threw on some cologne and a polo shirt.
I was a bag of nerves. Unfit to be reintroduced to society.
I looked at my face in the mirror before leaving. Gaunt and pale. A Christmas ghoul.
I went upstairs and knocked on nine.
The old woman opened the door, a wave of warmth tinged with spices flew out behind her. The scent of a loving home.
She pulled me inside and kissed me twice on the cheeks.
An old man appeared and shook my hand.
‘Jestem Ryszard,’ he said.
‘Jestem Donal.’
‘Dodo?’
‘Donal.’
‘Donut?’
‘Donal.’
‘Ahhh,’ he said, slapping the air before disappearing into another room.
The old woman took my arm and led me into a siting-room.
There was a massive Christmas tree by the window, the top of which was slanted towards the floor. It was weighed down by the countless strings of lights wrapped tightly around its body. All it was missing was a ball gag.
The old woman pointed at a leather couch.
I sat down.
There was a coffee table in front of me, a faded Marlboro place mat in its centre, on top of which were two wooden bowls. One filled with oranges, the other walnuts.
‘Patryk,’ she shouted, as she waddled towards the kitchen.
The young man emerged with two open bottles of Tyskie.
He offered me one.
‘Cheers,’ I said standing up to take it.
‘Sit,’ he said and joined me on the couch.
‘And what is your name?’
‘Donal.’
‘Patryk,’ he said extending his hand.
‘Nice to meet you,’ I said, noting how his grip like most men I’d shaken hands with, was an over-the-top display of strength.
‘And where in Ireland are you from?’
‘Dublin.’
‘Nice. I like Ireland, fucking drunkland. I had some friends from there, always drinking Guinness. How did you come to Poland?’
‘I moved for a girl originally.’
He nodded.
‘That is always the way. And where is she now?’
‘We broke up last year…’
‘And you stayed?’
‘Yeah, there was nothing for me at home.’
‘I felt the same when I lived in Leeds. I said there is nothing for me in Poland…but you can’t escape your homeland in the end.’
He took his phone out of his pocket and connected it to the Bose speaker beneath the TV.
‘I know what you want to hear,’ he said.
Tears began to roll down my face before Shane MacGowan had even begun singing.
Does this seem a bit too contrived? Is there ever a knock on the door except in a movie?
The old woman and the young man carried on up the stairs.
I am stepping into the wardrobe as soon as I finish these lines.
What was the point of writing this scene? Well it’s to tell you that in the end, connection isn’t everything. By that I mean human connection. The last person I think of certainly won’t be you. You couldn’t even be bothered to text me on fucking Christmas. To see how I’m doing. To see if I’m ok, all alone in your strange country. It won’t be your face I see as the world turns black. It will be Cassie’s.