Short Story: Today is the Day

From upcoming collection – “Selected Short Stories by Shon Mehta”

Zagkin rubbed his eyes again. It felt better, but he knew that they would start itching again in a moment. He had not been able to sleep for the past few days, not even a wink. Nobody could blame him, getting to sleep is not easy when one’s life is in danger.

Zagkin looked through the window. It was early morning, and the green grass outside looked inviting. He could hear birds chirping, as if they were telling him to come out into the open.

The hills at a distance were slowly becoming visible through the mist. He narrowed his eyes a bit, straining to see what lay beyond. Zagkin could vividly recall the coconut trees, the glimmering sea, and the glorious beach in between – the very beach where he got married just a few months back.

A lot had happened since. Zagkin sighed, and tried to open the window. It was stuck. He pushed hard, banged it a little, but could not get it to open.

“Damn it,” he gave up, and felt very agitated all of a sudden. He started pacing the room, back and forth.

He was thinking. He had a plan in mind, and he needed to work out every detail, but he was unable to focus. It did not help that the room was rather small for pacing properly. Frustrated, he sat down on the bed and tried to relax – but the more he tried, the more annoyed he felt.

Suddenly, he noticed a faint creaking sound. It was the door. Someone had opened it slightly and was peeping in. Zagkin’s heart skipped a beat. It was an assassin, he knew in his gut.

He got up slowly. “Who is it?” he shouted with all the courage he could muster.

“Who is it? What do you want?”

The door opened slowly, and a man entered. Zagkin knew that man. He was one of the servants his wife had hired without his consent. He was carrying a tray.

“Your food is here,” the servant said coldly.

Zagkin resented the servant. He disliked the perpetual scorn on his face, and most of all his hideous green dress. This man was not to be trusted.

“Keep it on the table,” Zagkin replied in the same tone.

The servant nodded, and did as was told. Zagkin was not sure of his true intentions. Was he the assassin?

“Where is my wife?” Zagkin asked.

The servant let out a chuckle.

“Your wife?” he asked back.

“Yes,” Zagkin countered the impertinence with a raised voice. “My wife and your employer.”

“She must be outside,” the servant replied. “I can give her a message if you want.”

“The window is stuck again,” Zagkin said assertively. “Tell her to get it fixed.”

“Fine, I will tell her.” Somehow, Zagkin felt that he will not.

“Okay,” Zagkin said curtly. “Leave the door open as you leave, will you?”

The servant shook his head. “No,” he said. “It is quite cold outside.”

Zagkin was mad with rage. He wanted to shout at the disrespectful moron, but by the time he found his voice the servant had already left, closing the door behind him.

“This cannot go on,” Zagkin told himself. He owned the mansion and he paid for these servants, but nothing was in his control – neither this mansion, nor the servants.

“That wicked woman! Since I married her, she and her evil followers have taken complete control over everything. Nobody listens to me anymore. I need to do something about this.”

He started pacing the room again.

“Today is the day,” he resolved. “Yes, today I am going to escape from here. I will escape and report that woman and her followers to the authorities. I know things. I know that they belong to a secret cult, and I know that this cult has a high priest, who runs this evil empire. The authorities will catch all of them, and then we will see!”

“But how?” he asked himself. “They are watching me all the time. I have to be careful, I should not raise suspicion.”

Zagkin thought of a plan, shook his head, then thought of another. There was a sense of urgency now. As he walked back and forth, his legs pained and his head ached, but he went on. Hours passed, and finally when he couldn’t take it anymore, he crashed on the bed.

He lay there exhausted for god knows how long. Then, suddenly, there was a ruffling sound behind him. He immediately jumped off the bed and turned around, ready to face the assassin.

There was a woman trifling with his food plate on the table.

“What are you doing with my food?” Zagkin thundered.

The woman turned around slowly. It was his wife. She has a smile on her face.

That innocent smile. There was a time when he adored that smile, but now he knew the dirty secrets that hid behind it.

Our mind is so fragile, we are just one incident away from not being ourselves. For Zagkin, it was his marriage – it had changed him from a loving and trusting person to the angry and sad person he was now. He hated the kind of person he had become.

“You have not eaten your breakfast yet.”

“I was tired,” Zagkin replied.

“This won’t do. You are becoming weaker day by day. You have to eat your food properly.”

Zagkin knew that the concern was fake, but he did not want to upset her today or it would spoil his plan.

“Give it here,” he said politely. “I will have it now.”

She put the plate with the sandwich and fruits in front of him.

He picked up the sandwich, and was about to take a bite when he noticed that his wife was watching him attentively. He was not sure about the sandwich anymore. He kept it aside.

“What’s the matter?” asked the wife. “Finish the sandwich, it is very tasty.”

Now, he was convinced that the sandwich was laced with poison.

“I am not hungry,” he replied. “I will only eat the fruits.”

He picked up an apple, and waited for his wife to react. She did not seem as eager anymore. Zagkin had outsmarted her, he felt proud.

“Anything special happening today?” Zagkin changed the subject, as he took a bite.

“Why do you think so?” asked the wife.

“I see that you are wearing your ceremonial dress again.”

“This dress,” she acted surprised. “This is not …”

She pondered for a moment.

“I wore this dress because I am going out shopping today.”

Zagkin knew that there was no shopping. She was going to meet the high priest.

“Okay, what time are you going?” Zagkin asked, feigning curiosity.

“Would you like to accompany me? You also need a new dress.”

“No, you go ahead,” Zagkin answered. “You know I don’t like shopping.”

Zagkin took another bite of the apple.

“Are you feeling alright?” the wife asked. “Do you have a fever? Your eyes look all red.”

“I don’t know,” Zagkin answered. “You can check my forehead.”

Then, suddenly, he grasped her hand and put it on his forehead. Startled, she pulled back. Acting quickly, Zagkin retrieved a pen from her pocket and hid it in his palm.

The shock on his wife’s face gave Zagkin a wicked satisfaction.

“It’s … It’s alright,” she said, keeping her distance. “You don’t have a fever.”

“I am feeling very tired, though,” said Zagkin calmly. “I need to sleep, and I don’t want to be disturbed. Can we give the day off to all the staff?”

The wife nodded.

“As you wish,” she said, and hurried out of the door.

Zagkin sighed with relief. Everything was going according to plan so far. He looked at the pen in his palm, and smiled. He now had a weapon at his disposal.

At the same time, just outside the room, the doctor was instructing her team.

“The inmate is having a psychotic episode,” she was saying. “He has not slept for days, and is in an agitated state. He thinks that I am his wife, who is trying to poison him. He is getting aggressive, but thankfully there are no sharp objects in the room.”