The City of Lost Souls

Tamrin sighed and her shoulders drooped at the sound of her doorbell. She needed to invest in one of those video bells so she could see if she actually had to answer the door or could pretend she wasn’t home. Couldn’t the world just leave her be.

She finished unwrapping the drinking glass she held in her hands and placed it slowly with the others on the bench, hoping that by the time she picked her way between the moving boxes, the person at the door would have given up waiting and left.

No dice. They tried again, knocking on the dark wood of the front door. Tamrin couldn’t decide if the knocking really was just that loud, echoing down the yet-to-be furnished hall way or it felt that way because, frankly, she didn’t want to see anyone.

Dragging her feet metaphorically (there was still a chance they might go away and actually dragging her feet would have alerted her would-be visitor that some one was home. Besides, it was poor manners.) Tamrin made her way through the kitchen to the hallway.

Her doorbell sounded again. Would anyone notice if she disconnected it? She squared her shoulders , lifting her chin forcing a slight upturn of the lips that looked like a smile. Always face the world with a smile no matter how you feel she told herself.

She swung the door open, propelled more by the breeze outside than her own less-than-enthusiastic hand and groaned inwardly.

Standing on her porch was her rather....... colourful.... neighbour.

Shorter than Tamrin by a head, her neighbour was no less notable because of her lesser height. With a constant beaming smile (which Tamrin wondered if it may be just a little forced), and a style of dress that always somehow appeared happy, Carissa left her thinking the woman must be a ray of sunshine made flesh.

“Hi Neighbour!” Carissa piped in her slightly high pitched voice.

Cheery. Much too cheery, Tamrin thought, keeping her own fake smile in place. “Good afternoon Carissa. How are you?”

Carissa held her arms up, presenting a tray covered in a chequered tea towel, jostling the contents of a canvas bag hanging from her wrist in the process. Her beaming smile boarded.

“I made fresh scones with jam and cream!” she announced, ignoring the question. “ I thought we could have a lovely cup of tea and scones while they are warm.” As she spoke, the little ball of joy bustled past Tamrin who wished she was a little more assertive and not for the first time. She sighed, closed the door and followed her neighbour into the kitchen.

Carissa had set to work immediately, uncovering the scones nestled on a neatly arranged serving tray with spoons and little catering dishes filled with cream and chunky strawberry jam she suspected was also home made. She was filling the kettle and humming happily as Tamrin entered the spacious kitchen.

“You’ve made progress with unpacking” the little woman observed scanning the open plan kitchen/dining with boxes stacked in no apparent order. “The box labyrinth will be gone before you know it!” Coming from anyone else the comment would have sounded like a criticism. And even though she knew that was not the spirit of the statement, Tamrin felt chastised none the less.

“I’ve just been so busy with work.......” she trailed off. Even as she said it, the words felt heavy and false. A shadow of foreboding settled over her. She glanced at Carissa to see a dark expression cross her face briefly, so quickly that afterwards she wondered if she had imagined it. She could not remember having seen Carissa so much as frown. The beaming smile was back in an instant, if it was ever even gone in the first place.

“It’s OK! Life is all about balance. You can’t spend all your free time unpacking boxes and cleaning.” Carissa turned back to the bench and busied herself with spooning tea leaves into the mesh basket of her pretty tea-for-two pot.

Something felt off. Like a sense of deja vu but more ominous. Tamrin took a deep breath, but it didn’t ease the slight tightening in her chest or feeling of being light-headed. Maybe I’m just hungry, she thought. She couldn’t remember what or when she last ate.

Carissa picked up her laden tray balancing it on one hand and carrying the tea pot in the other. She may be little but she was deft and graceful as she moved through the boxes to the round red wood table in the sunny front room. The light filtered through the gauze curtains drawn across the wall to wall window that dominated the room. Tamrin drifted slowly into the room behind her, watching the steam rise from the spout of the tea pot and curl before disappearing into nothingness. Beads of condensation made tracks down the outside of the milk jug.

The closer she got to the table, the more light-headed she got and the tighter her chest felt. Her focus wandered around the room taking in the little details. The petals that had fallen from a wilting flower on the side table. The way the curtains whispered in the slight breeze. The change of colour where the sun light touched the polished floorboards. She focused on the the small details and shied away from the darkness crouching in the corner of her mind.

Carissa pushed a delicately patterned cup of tea across the table toward the chair Tamrin stood behind. The cup clinked quietly but it startled her as much as if her neighbour had just dropped it on the floor.

“Sit,” Carissa chirped,” drink before it gets cold.”

She pulled the chair out and sat, feeling sluggish. Carissa nudged the plate of scones her way. She ignored them but occupied her hands by cupping them around the porcelain and taking measured sips. Carissa always made tea the perfect temperature. For some reason Tamrin could quite put her finger on, that thought was disturbing and she shied away from following that train of thought as a sense of dread bubbled up from somewhere deep inside.

“So, how’s work been?” There was something underlying Carissa’s casual tone. She lowered her cup but didn’t put it back on the saucer, her wrists resting on the edge of the table, her eyes locked on the mesmerising ripples in the tea, seeming to vibrate with the pulse beating in her ears.

“Good. Busy.” She intoned. Carissa seemed to watched her over the top of her own tea cup. Why did she always have to ask about work? Tamrin hated talking about her work but she couldn’t think of a change of subject. Every time she cast around for a different topic, strange thoughts pushed through as if tired of being ignored.

“You look tired, girl. They aren’t working you too hard I hope. How many hours is it this week?” Her polite enquiry elicited a strange response. Tamrin fought down panic and worked to steady her breath. She sipped her tea, buying time and never looked up.

‘Oh, I don’t know’ she shrugged. She hoped it was only herself who could hear the shake in her voice. ‘It’s been a pretty big week. It’s all a bit of a blur. I think the project is nearly ready though, so things will slow down again soon’. She added the last piece of information hoping it would fore stall further questions. Instead, it left her feeling sick to the stomach. It wasn’t a lie, so why did she feel like this? The carefully maintained polite mask slipped and anxiety showed on her face.

“Which project is that?” Carissa’s voice sounded like she was hearing under water. Tamrin’s breath caught in her throat and the pounding in her ears got louder. Her chest felt like it was being squeezed. Was she having a heart attack? There was no pain in her arm, but all the research said women experience different symptoms. No, it had to be a panic attack. But why would a question about work cause a panic attack?

A moment of clarity and she realised it wasn’t the question causing the panic attack: it was the answer.

She couldn’t recall what the project was. How could she not know? This was her job, her career, her life! Troubled thoughts tumbled over themselves trying to dominate the chaos in her mind, washing over that dark place in her mind she kept turning away from.

‘I don’t know.’ She felt the vibrations in her throat and chest as she spoke, but could not hear her own voice. How? How could she not know! How long had it been since she had been in the office? Maybe she was working from home? It was a popular arrangement these days. Did she have a home office? Had she taken time off from work for the move? She couldn’t even remember house hunting. Why couldn’t she remember!

The sound of Carissa’s voice reached her through the chaos but she could not understand what she was saying. She couldn’t even hear her own breathing. Trying hard to focus, she zeroed in on the tea cup in her hands as the edges of her vision blurred and darkened gradually closing in on her hands.

It was that moment she realised why she couldn’t hear her own breathing. Silly me, she thought as the world went black.

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Photo Credit: Lee Hunter