Where Oblivion Dwells

by Lorena Franco

  She turned on the TV. There was nothing interesting on, so she turned it off and leaned on the couch; she listened to the music her teenage neighbor was playing out loud. At least he had good taste. Coldplay was on, Fix You... Amy sang to herself.

  When the tears come streaming down your face

  When you lose something you can't replace

  When you love someone but it goes to waste

  Could it be worse?

  “Amy... Amy... are you here?” asked Tom, moving slowly towards Amy, who was standing at the entrance of a dark tunnel.

  “I’m here, Tom. As always. Waiting for you...”

  “You don’t know how glad I am to see you...” whispered Tom in front of her, staring intently.

  “How are you?”

  “It’s not so bad here...”

  “Do you... do you still have visions?”

  “There’s nothing like that here, Amy. Only light. Peace...”

  “I don’t see any light. Everything is so dark...” Amy whispered, looking around.

  Tom’s face changed. It morphed into the one she had seen that last time. He stopped smiling. He became harsh, sweaty and cold as ice.

  “Amy, listen to me carefully. Before going in, make sure you know the way out. Before going in, make sure you know the way out. Before going in...”

  Tom went into a loop. He kept repeating the same phrase, at the same time he began to move away from Amy and into the tunnel, never losing her from sight. He suddenly vanished. Amy suddenly woke up, scared as if she had woken up from a nightmare. She liked to see Tom in her dreams, but it scared her at the same time. It scared her so much. She always felt disturbed afterwards. She looked at her watch. She had slept for three hours. She made herself a salad for dinner and watched some cops show. Two hours later, she went to sleep, only after turning the light switch on and off nine times, and washing her face as many times.

  “Oh, my God...” said Amy to herself, touching her face with her hands. “I need help, urgently...” she always told herself the same thing before going to sleep. But she never did look for the help she needed to abandon the loneliness she had gotten used to during the last twelve years of her sad life.

  CHAPTER 3

  Steve’s unexpected visit at eight disturbed her morning routine, which she had kept unchanged for many years. Amy didn’t know how to react, and her nervous tic – a twitching lower lip – reappeared after months of absence.

  “I hope I’m not bothering you, Amy, but yesterday I felt some concern for you,” began Steve, standing in front of her apartment’s door. When he noticed Amy was not going to say anything, he decided to go to the point. “I looked up bodies found in the Westbourne river and I stumbled upon Tom Levy’s name. He was found in 2003 and your name showed up in the article. You were his girlfriend. I’m terribly sorry, Amy... I had always known that a sad story was hidden behind your cold behavior. And, of course, I would’ve never imagined...

  “Steve...” began Amy with a whisper, “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want you to pity me, and I don’t want you to understand me.”

  “Have dinner with me. Tonight.” Steve’s proposition was sudden. Amy shook her head. “Come on. You’re young, good looking... you have your whole life ahead of you, and it’s been twelve years.”

  “I’m asking you, please, leave it alone.”

  “I get it... Anyway, my invitation still stands. I’ll be in my office, if you need me.”

  Amy watched from her threshold as Steve walked down the corridor. He went down the stairs and out of sight. Relieved, she went ahead with her routine as if she hadn’t been interrupted. She had drunk her coffee and smoked a cigarette, so she took a shower, dressed up and walked out towards a new day in her office. Once she sat down in her cubicle, she noticed a note, written in beautiful writing, that read:

  “Remember my invitation. I would love to

  have dinner with you. I’d love to help you enjoy life,

  if only for a night.”

  Amy looked towards Steve’s office. He was looking at her through its glass panels. He was smiling, wondering... his eyebrows were arched, as if he were trying to guess the thoughts of his favorite writer. Amy lowered her sight and turned on her computer. She looked at Steve again, and she surprised even herself by nodding. Tonight, she would dine out. With her boss. With the hottie of the newspaper, according to the other writers. An even if she didn’t show any happiness in her expression, she felt some excitement nonetheless. She was wondering, for the first time in a long time, what would she choose to wear out of her scant closet.

  Steve picked up Amy at seven p.m. sharp. He would take her to his favourite restaurant, The Five Fields, in Blacklands Terrace, not far away from Amy’s place. He didn’t want to take her too far from her home in case she suffered an anxiety attack or something like that. Steve still didn’t know of the possible trauma she had suffered from the event he had discovered.

  “You look gorgeous,” acknowledged Steve, looking at Amy. That night she had combed her short blond hair back, which showcased her thin neck. She was wearing a beautiful and tight black dress, discreet and elegant, that let her long legs and sculptural figure, which she usually hid wearing jeans and wide shirts, show. “Very different,” smiled Steve.

  “Where are we going?” asked Amy, ignoring Steve’s compliments.

  “I’m taking you to my favourite restaurant, The Five Fields. Have you heard of it?” Amy shook her head. “It’s close by and the food is excellent. Authentic British food. I’m sure you will like it.”

  “I’m used to have a light dinner,” whispered Amy. “I’m sorry... I don’t know how to behave; I must look like an idiot.” She lowered her glance.

  “Of course not. Come on, Amy.”

  Steve offered his arm and Amy took it hesitantly. They went down the stairs and eight minutes later they were seating by the table Steve had previously reserved in the lovely and small restaurant.

  “Wine?” asked the waiter.

  “Which one would you prefer, Amy? Red wine or rosé?

  “Water,” answered Amy sharply.

  Steve shrugged, smiled towards the waiter and nodded. “Water it is,” he said, smiling.

  “I don’t like to drink alcohol,” said Amy once the waiter was gone.

  “Better yet. I don’t like women who drink,” Steve winked at her, trying to make Amy feel comfortable. “You are probably wondering why did I ask you to dinner. You might know I broke up with my wife two years ago.”

  “I didn’t even know you were married,” confessed Amy with a smile.

  “Hey, you’re finally smiling. That’s great, you didn’t know?”

  “I know nothing of no one and I’m ok with that,” Amy’s voice was harsh and intimidating, but Steve didn’t seem to mind.

  “Sometimes that’s better. But... you know, there’s always some people in this world that are worth knowing, right? For example, Mel, the receptionist. She keeps telling me that you are extraordinary. That she wishes you would talk to her. She thinks you could have a very good friendship. I know your coworkers invite you every Friday for drinks and karaoke. They always do, even if you always say no. Their insistence shows that the world cares about you, Amy, and that you can’t lock yourself up in a shell.

  Amy reflected for a minute. Steve felt he might have crossed a line.

  “I’d prefer not to talk about it, I said so already.”

  “What would you rather talk about?”

  “Who was that woman that they found in the river?” asked Amy.

  “A housewife who committed suicide. She slit her veins and jumped into the Westbourne.”

  “Wow...,” whispered Amy. “Did she have any family? Kids, husband?”

  “A husband, and a two years-old son. She had post-partum depression, apparently.”

  “How sad,” said Amy, shaking her head lightly. “Do you have kids?”

  “Yeah, two. Pam is five years-old and Leo is seven. My ex
is a diehard fan of Leonardo DiCaprio.” Amy laughed for the first time in a long time. Steve felt rejoiced. “You should try the trout, it’s delicious. Or the smoked eel. In fact, that’s what I’ll order,” he said, changing the subject suddenly, moving his gaze towards the menu.

  “Smoked eel... I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”

  “There’s always a first time.”

  Amy was feeling comfortable and guilty at the same time because of it. Steve kept talking and she listened to him intently. It was simple. They looked at each other. Smiled. Every once in a while, they flattered each other.

  “You were right. The eel was delicious,” said Amy, cleaning her lips with a napkin.

  “I never lie,” Steve winked again.

  Amy found him charming. And the newspaper writers weren’t wrong. He was very, very attractive. He was tall and strong, he obviously worked out and took care of himself. He was always sharply dressed and well shaved. He never let his dark brown hair grow too much, and his gray eyes were filled with light and stories. They were full of life. And his smile was so attractive and honest. Amy had always liked honest and friendly smiles and, however... she had a hard time smiling herself, every time she looked in the mirror. In that moment, she couldn’t help but wonder how would it be like if Tom was still alive... what kind of man he would have become. She wanted to think he would be like Steve.

  “Would you like to, I don’t know, walk by the river? I love to walk by the Thames at night.”

  “That’s not a good idea. You can probably guess I’m not a big fan of rivers...” answered Amy.

  “Of course...” Steve regretted immediately his stupid and inappropriate idea. I should’ve known, he told himself.

  “I’d rather go back home,” said Amy honestly, her face dark.

  Steve walked with her until they reached her building around nine o’clock. It hadn’t been the date Steve had hoped for and Amy remained a mystery for him. A mystery he didn’t want to fight for... she didn’t seem ready to get back to the real world. And, even if he felt sorry about it, he didn’t have the strength to make her change her mind.

  “Thanks for everything, Steve. I’ll see you at the office,” said Amy.

  “Of course. My pleasure. See you tomorrow.”

  Steve left and Amy went inside the old building, climbing the stairs swiftly and locking herself again between the four walls of her tiny apartment. She felt relief the minute she closed the door. She looked up to the ceiling and exhaled. It had been a lovely dinner, but she was finally back home... finally safe. Finally, on her own. With her own thoughts, listening to nothing but the silence. Blessed silence! She lit up a cigarette and, as usual, she looked out the window. There were still several people walking through Draicott Avenue and, in the dark of the night, in the same spot... there was again the short thick man, wearing a dark hat to hide his face. Amy was startled to find him. No, she was not being paranoid, that man was watching her. Even worse, he was stalking her. Day and night. Amy smoked three cigarettes before going to bed. Obsessed and nervous about the man out there in the dark, watching her window. She washed her face ten times. She flicked the lights on and off nine times... nine. It had to be nine, no more and no less. And after ten eternal sleepless minutes, she finally managed to fall asleep.

  “You are being watched, Amy... observed...” Amy can hear Tom. But she can’t see him. This time her oniric stage is not a tunnel but an open field. Everything is gray and the colors of the sky darken as a surreal amount of time goes by.

  “Who?” Asks Amy confused, looking around.

  “They are watching you. They are watching you. They are watching you.”

  Tom goes into a loop. Amy goes mad and awakes finally from the nightmare that makes her sweat. Tires her. She hasn’t been able to sleep at night and it shows in her face and her mood. It’s seven a.m. on the clock and its time to make coffee and smoke the first cigarette of the day. This time, without looking out of the apartment’s window.

  That day something changed. It was not an unannounced visit, or anything like it. Amy ran down the stairs and, when she went outside, she saw the short and thick man was still in the sidewalk across the street, as he had been the night before. As if he hadn’t moved for hours. Amy stared at him for a couple of seconds and she began to walk fast towards the newspaper. When she glimpsed behind, she realized the man was following her. He was walking slowly, wearing sunglasses and reading a paper while he held a cigar. Amy rushed ahead, and was short of breath when she finally arrived to her destination. She walked in fast, knowing that the man who had followed her had stopped in the corner. Waiting... stalking her. Amy felt the kind of fear she had felt the day Tom had threatened her, telling her she would be in danger if she stayed by his side.

  “Are you ok?” asked Mel, worried, when she noticed Amy walking in sweating and breathless. Shaking. Amy nodded without saying a word, and she walked into her cubicle, where she stayed the whole day.

  Steve had been watching Amy during the day. She hadn’t left her cubicle, not even to eat. She hadn’t been to the restroom for hours. She seemed lost in her own thoughts and her articles, that were not enough reason for her to stay glued to her seat for so many straight hours.

  At five thirty everybody had left. Everybody but Steve and Amy, who was still concentrated in her screen.

  “Amy, are you ok?” asked Steve, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “You scared me,” said Amy, standing up in a rush. “I... I’ve got to go.”

  She quickly turned off the computer and ran off before Steve’s bewildered stare. Before leaving the building, she made sure that the short and fat man was not waiting for her on any corner of the street. She ran as fast as she could and when she entered her apartment, she let out a breath of relief. She looked outside the window. Luckily, the man was gone. There was no trace of him.

  CHAPTER 4

  Days went by with normality. Perhaps too much normality for Amy, who had not seen Tom in her dreams again. Through the last twelve years, he had always come to visit... sometimes is visits were sweet and romantic, Tom would appear smiling and happy, and would tell Amy how much he loved her. But she was used to a very different kind of visit. Tom would appear gaunt and broken with pain, mad. So mad. He would repeat terrifying phrases that tormented her not just in dreams. They would carry on as she awoke. So, in a certain way, Amy was glad she was not dreaming of him. She had finally managed to get a few good nights of sleep. Still, she remained anguished without knowing exactly why, even though the man that had stalked her from the other side of the street hadn’t made an appearance in a while.

  It was Wednesday. As always, Amy woke up at seven and made coffee. She lit up a cigarette and looked through the window. The day was sad and gray. The phone rang. At first Amy, who only ever received phone calls from salesmen, didn’t acknowledge the sound, and looked around perplexed.

  “Hello?” she asked, picking up the telephone with caution.

  “Miss Campbell?”

  “Yes?”

  “My name is Anthony Tanner, I’m Mr. Tom Levy’s lawyer.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m Mr. Levy’s...” repeated the male voice on the other side of the line.

  “Yeah, I heard you,” interrupted Amy, dry. “What do you want?”

  Amy felt confused. Tom never mentioned a lawyer. Why would he call, anyway, twelve years after Tom’s death?

  “I would like to discuss a matter with you in my office. Could you make it this afternoon?”

  “Where is your office?”

  “Cockspur Street, number 25, first floor. Right next to Trafalgar Square. Can I meet you at four o’clock?”

  “Yeah, sure...”

  For once, curiosity Amy’s curiosity was stronger than her careful character and the hate she felt towards public transportation. Before leaving for her job she took two bottles of disinfecting liquid and put them in her purse, and when she got to the newspaper she told Steve she would le
ave earlier than usual that day.

  The first thing Amy did when she got out of the subway was disinfecting her hands, which surely were swimming in parasites after having touched the bars inside the public transportation. It was ten minutes before four. She arrived to 25 Cockspur Street feeling nervous and intrigued about her meeting with Tom’s lawyer. Tom’s lawyer... a nervous laugh took over her when she thought of Tom, a young man, having a lawyer. She was hoping to obtain the answers to a great number of questions, so she climbed up the stairs of the old XIX century building and rang the bell on the first floor. Amy looked around and felt she had traveled in time.

  A woman opened the door. She was slim and around fifty years old, and she looked like she had been pulled out of a seventies movie because of her clothes. She was wearing a dark gray suit with a skirt that reached the lower part of her knees. She raised her eyebrows and adjusted her round glasses over her hooked nose. She studied Amy with her little and wrinkled blue eyes, and invited her to enter the ostentatious vestibule of the firm, which was packed with magnificent works of art and cave paintings that saturated the place.

  “Miss Campbell, we were waiting for you. Just wait a moment, please,” Mr. Tanner’s secretary showed her to an old brown leather couch.

  A few minutes later, Anthony Tanner received her in her office. Then man who claimed to be Tom’s lawyer was exactly the same man that had been stalking her from afar. Day and night. Amy was instantly furious.

  “Why were you stalking me? Would you at least tell me why did you stare at my window from the street?” burst Amy bewildered as soon as she entered Tanner’s office.

  “I apologize if I scared or annoyed you. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to make sure you were the same Amy Campbell Tom told me about,” explained the man, whose face Amy could finally contemplate. He had a big great mustache covering most of his chubby face. His tiny and dark eyes were intimidating and mysterious, and he emanated a penetrating cigar smell.

  The lawyer waited patiently for Amy’s response, but when she remained silent he decided to grab a few documents from a drawer in his desk and proceed with the conversation.