How to Save a Life

Violet’s Apothecary was a quaint tearoom by day where patrons frequented elaborate afternoon teas. By night, for three days a week, it transformed into a posh restaurant that was always booked. Teacups were switched to wine or cocktail glasses, three-tiered dessert stands were replaced with dinner plates with artfully placed entrées. Decanters that housed wine took the place of teapots, and the usual sugar pots and cutlery were tucked away.

That night Iri was there on her first date for the fourth time with a man she had seen die three times before.

“I think being an artist is fulfilling,” the man sitting across from her, named Zinc, stated.

“I find it hard to revel in my accomplishments though. There’s always someone out there that’s better than you, you know?” Iri responded as she shoved her fork into a penne noodle.

“I think all artists feel like that at one point or another. I personally struggled until I found my own style.” Zinc stated with a smile. His dark hair was pushed back behind his ears, a few strands lingered in his brown eyes. His handsome face was composed, body language lax as he took a bite of sliced grilled steak. The sleeves of his taupe-colored blazer were rolled up revealing neat script etched into his right forearm. “But it sounds like you have a case of imposter syndrome.”

“I guess it’s hard because I’m incredibly modest...” Iri stirred around the pasta on her plate.

“There’s a big difference in being confident, versus egotistical. Modesty is a positive attribute.”

Iri blinked before looking up at Zinc. “People like me are already misunderstood though.”

“People are afraid of what they don’t know.”

“I get that,” she said curtly. She wanted to change the topic. “But I do really like your work. Your use of colors in your paintings just seems effortless.”

“I tend to experiment. There’s a lot of trial and… error.” They both chuckled and then Zinc quieted, he was still smiling, his eyes half-moons. “I’m sorry, but you just look really beautiful,” he blurted out before quickly taking a sip from his glass of Merlot.

“Thank you.” Iri smiled, but the smile slowly faded as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through peach-colored locks. It all seemed rehearsed as he had said the exact same line three times before. Her makeup was wearing off, hair frizzy, feet ached in her four-inch heels and dress was faintly stained with blood. His blood. She looked a damn mess at that point, but she knew what he was going to say next. Line by line. It followed the script.

She watched Zinc take another sip of Merlot. His eyes sparkled when he looked at her, smile never faltered. Inside she ached. A feeling of existential dread conspired like butterflies inside her core.

He seemed to be really into her. It was as if the feelings of self-sabotage had transpired that evening throwing her into a repeating loop. A dev somewhere was laughing at her.

She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip before idly holding it near her rouged cheek. The wine was bitter against her taste buds. Merlot wasn’t her cup of tea. She preferred semi-sweet wines that were easier to down. Something along the lines of semi-sweet blushes, or semi-dry whites. This particular Merlot was dry, but it was going down easier than it had before.

Iri had first met Zinc at the local gallery in town. He had been standing in front of the tapestry she had made. She had stood shyly watching him view her piece before finally gathering up the bravery to step forward and introduced herself as the artist. He had looked at her work in awe as she had explained what it was about with shaky words intimidated by how attractive he was. He had amazing dark hair, dark eyes, smooth face, great style, and a chill aura. He had listened intently and actually seemed intrigued. Too many people listened halfheartedly or because they had to. Zinc had been different. It had all been in his eyes and his patience. He also didn’t seem to notice her awkwardness.

That interaction had left her with an all too familiar feeling. One that made her feel sad. She had never thought of herself as a hopeless romantic, but Iri knew how it felt to fall in love with strangers, if only for a few moments. A simple gesture of kindness meant a lot to someone who was stuck in their shell.

She felt like it was fucking pathetic. She was in her mid-twenties and she just wanted something that was real. She wanted someone to love her back.

Zinc had hit her with her first right swipe on Virtuo dating app a few weeks later. Maybe it had been fate. She hadn’t hesitated to swipe right after looking through his profile or to accept the invitation for a date when he mentioned it.

“Your nose is bleeding.”

Iri snapped out of her thoughts and looked down. A drop of crimson plopped into the abyss of jewel colored liquid. Shit. She quickly sat her wine glass onto the marble tabletop before touching her leaking nostril. Sure enough, when she brought her hand away blood was smeared against her fingertips. Vivid imagery suddenly took over her vision.

At the end of their date the first time, they had parted after a chaste kiss, and Zinc had begun walking across the empty street. It was near ten thirty that night, and despite the town still being alive with the sounds of bar goers, the damp roads and sidewalks were strangely empty. Zinc had paused halfway as he turned around walking backwards to look at Iri with a wide smile on his face. He had given a wave before things suddenly took a left turn.

The sound of a horn had filled her ears along with the sudden impact of a body against a moving mass. It had been so sudden that Iri had stood frozen in shock and disbelief before everything registered inside of her head. She ran to the crumpled body on asphalt as the truck had taken off. Everything was suddenly in slow motion. It seemed as if it had taken forever to get to Zinc’s body.

When she finally got to him, her voice stuck in the back of her throat holding back a guttural scream. She lifted his head; his body was still but deep brown eyes were open. His inky black hair bled onto her brown skin and red blossomed at the sage green ruffles on her dress.

“I’m really glad I could meet you,” Zinc whispered before coughing up blood.

Iri gasped, coming back to reality as she stood up. The movement caused the table to shift with a dull scrape against the tiled floor. Her wine glass toppled over with a shrill ping, oozing out berry colored liquid eerily like a pool of blood.

“Are you okay?” Zinc stared at her in worried. Iri quickly muffled out that she would be back before taking off to the restroom.

The first time had been reality. The next two times had felt like some sort of lucid dream. Some sort of nightmare she had astral projected to and couldn’t awake from. This time strayed from the usual script that restarted whenever she stepped back inside Violet’s. Her nose was now bleeding, and she locked herself into a stall before pressing toilet paper against her leaking right nostril. She slid against the door settling down onto the floor. Iri closed her eyes and took a deep breath before exhaling shakily.

Not many people got second chances. No, not many people got as many chances as she did to get things right. Zinc kept dying and she just knew that she had to somehow keep him alive.

“What if I told you I was stuck in a loop where you kept dying in front me?”

When Iri had returned to their table that was tucked in the corner of one of the many floral garden displays, their server had been pouring her a fresh glass of Merlot. When their sever left, she had already made up her mind that she was going to tell Zinc.

“I’d say you were crazy.” Brown eyes were trained on her.

Iri blinked, tears formed in the corner of her eyes. She already knew that crying wouldn’t solve anything, but it was frustrating.

“But,” the man said as he quickly licked his lips. “I’m also a bit intrigued as I have no recollection of…dying?”

“You are a different one then.” It was absurd and she felt silly saying it, but it was true.

“I suppose I could be. I heard of that theory, though I don’t know how I feel knowing that you’ve met multiple of me before.” His tone changed and managed to assuage the conflicted feelings that were brewing around in Iri.

“It’s kind of unsettling,” she admitted. “I don’t know how to save you.”

Zinc was quiet. The look on his face was strangely blank, his eyes shook for a moment as he stared at the vase of flowers in the middle of their table. It had to be grim ruminating over the fact that he was possibly going to die that night.

“I keep coming back, but I-I don’t want to see you die again,” Iri continued.

“How do I… die?” Pale fingers ran through dark strands. Zinc sat up a bit straighter in his seat. His eyes were lost in thought.

Iri informed him. Violet’s was growing quieter upon closing time. Around them there was another couple deep in conversation a few empty tables away. Iri was beginning to feel anxious.

“And what steps have you taken already?” he asked.

“The second time I didn’t even understand what was going on. The third, I managed to get you away from the road, but the truck lost control, crashed, and parts came flying off and into you.” It had been some sort of freak accident.

“I mean if we’ve seen anything from the movies, going back in time for too long is going to kill me if I don’t get this right.” The nosebleed hadn’t been too bad, but she hadn’t gotten one since childhood.

“What if you don’t go back into Violet’s?”

“But…” Iri looked up. There was a serious look on Zinc’s face, his brows furrowed, and mouth set in a line.

“Just… if I die again.”

They lapsed in silence for what seemed like forever. There had to be a way, but Iri didn’t have faith in herself to figure out such an answer to a serious problem. The only thing she could think of was Zinc crossing the street somehow triggered his death. She wanted to suggest something she would maybe regret. It scared her because she was also interested in him. She didn’t want to mess anything up, but it also didn’t hurt to try. The couple nearest to them had gotten up to leave, and Iri felt as if she were going to break down at any moment. Zinc’s imminent end was drawing nearer.

She wanted to scream.

“How about you go home with me? My place isn’t far.” She closed her eyes, and bit her lip.

“Are you sure?” It was the third time Zinc asked that question as if he too were skeptical it would keep him alive.

They were standing outside of Violet’s in the quiet stillness. Iri felt like she was going to vomit as her heart beat wildly in her chest.

Persuasion wasn’t her thing. She wasn’t good with words, perhaps manipulation instead. Desperation even. She didn’t care if he got the wrong idea, but it wasn’t like they could turn back at that moment.

Iri nodded her head, and they began to walk forward. When Zinc grabbed ahold of her left hand, she held on just a little tighter.

They could only try.