Where Oblivion Dwells

by Lorena Franco

  Dear Amy,

  Your article about Paul Geller’s exhibition was fascinating. Personally, I love his work and know from experience that it is hard to get an interview from him. He’s a stubborn man. One of those crazy artists that don’t enjoy popularity, but sell well, and the article has been a success among our readers and his admirers. Once again, I congratulate you. Be careful, it’s dangerous in Dingle.

  A hug from London.

  Steve R.

  PS. How’s the weather in Ireland? Here it rains, as usual...

  Paul came and went. At night, he still slept in the Butterfly’s guest’s room. He refused to leave Amy alone and, even if he refused to show it, he was scared as well. Scared that something might happen to Amy in the dark of the night, alone inside her four walls, isolated from the world. Amy kept to herself and to her obsessive behaviour, but she couldn’t imagine staying on her own, without Paul in the next room.

  The research efforts on the two murders continued fruitlessly. Justice was seeked for Ruby, who had already been buried, and for the Italian tourist, whose body had been sent to her hometown, Florence. The people of Dingle was still scared, and agent Samuel Mhic, who kept constant communication with Paul, was getting desperate.

  “It’s like those rapes and murderers occurred on their own, Paul. It’s frustrating...” explained Samuel, in Murphy’s. Paul kept staring at the chair were Ruby had sat the last time he spoke to her. He regretted having ignored her, distracted by Amy’s drunkenness.

  “Are there no leads? No clues? Something?” asked Paul, taking a sip from his beer.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all, Paul. And worse of all, we feel he will act again. It’s been two weeks and we must be prepared... I think he’s waiting for us to get distracted,” said Samuel, downhearted.

  “That’s tough, Samuel, I can only imagine how you must feel.”

  “Completely frustrated, Paul. I’m used to giving parking or speeding tickets... helping old ladies carry their groceries home, or crossing a street and suddenly, this... two murders. And Ruby... we loved her so much.”

  “She was an amazing girl,” smiled Tom, thoughtful.

  “What about Amy? Are you still sleeping in her house every night?”

  “Yeah...”

  “Is there something going on between you too...?”

  “No, nothing at all. She’s kinda weird, you know? I sleep in the guest’s room and, before going to sleep, she does weird stuff. For example, she spends an awful lot of time in the bathroom, with the water in the sink running. And before going to sleep, she turns the lights on and off nine times. I counted the other night. She has a past, just like everybody... rough. I don’t want to force anything,” said Paul honestly.

  “Well, but if it happens... she’s good looking.”

  “Yeah, she is. But I don’t think she’s attracted to me.”

  “Give it a shot, you have nothing to lose... you have always been such a heartthrob,” laughed Samuel, who wanted to speak of something other than dead and tragic incidents.

  Paul didn’t laugh. Lost in thought, he wondered about a way to approach Amy without scaring her. A way to let her choose. To be honest, he had been developing some feelings towards her without noticing it, feelings he had not experienced since Abbey’s passing. But Abbey was dead, and even though he had moved on long ago, it was time for him to let her go completely.

  Countless women had been in his bed during those long years. But none had lasted. He couldn’t even remember the name of most of them. Amy was different and, as he had told her before, he didn’t plan on adding her to his collection.

  Back home, Amy was finishing the sixth chapter of her novel, and she was about to begin writing another article for the newspaper when she heard the noise of steps coming from her kitchen. She lit up a cigarette and, quietly, walked out of her study, looking with attention at every corner of her house.

  “Paul? Paul, is that you?” she asked.

  Her legs were shaking. A sudden chill overcame her, and in her mind resounded, like a gravely echo, Tom’s words... “Before going in, make sure you know the way out” ... She walked to the kitchen, were she had heard the steps, but there was no one inside. She climbed upstairs and found every room empty. She kept hearing steps, but she was completely alone in her house. Was she losing her mind? Someone touched her shoulder. Amy turned around, but she still saw nothing. She took a deep breath, and with a knot in her throat, the stepped out to the porch, to take a breath of fresh air.

  She contemplated the scenery and kept smoking, refusing to go back inside. She wouldn’t do it until Paul arrived. She closed her eyes and saw Tom... looking at her. Smiling. Waiting for her in some white and luminous place, a place where he didn’t experience the terrible visions that haunted his life.

  “Tom... Tom, are you here?” asked Amy.

  Tom didn’t speak, but he shook his head and warned her to remain silent.

  Amy opened her eyes once more and decided to go to the beach to take a walk. The sea, rebellious as usual, wet Amy’s naked feet, who decided to sit down to contemplate the sunset.

  It was very cold, and the clouds barely let the magical colors of the sunset show. The sun, hidden in the gray sky, would soon make way for a mysterious moon that, with a little bit of luck, would be reflected in the bold sea.

  Amy looked at the ruins, which she had not yet visited because of the murders in Dingle. Afterwards, she looked at the cave. A faraway cave that kept drawing her attention. Her eyes must have been playing tricks on her, when she suddenly saw a bright light inside of the cave. Again, a chill. Again, the ghosts in her mind, preventing her from leading a normal life.

  “Hi, Amy,” greeted Paul, sitting next to her. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked, surrounding her with his arms. Amy cuddled against him, making him feel indescribably happy.

  “I didn’t want to be home,” said Amy, trembling.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I am, now that you’re here,” said Amy, looking at him sweetly.

  Was this the right time? Paul pictured himself caressing with tenderness Amy’s face. He would then pull her close to kiss her. A pair of lips that had been lonely for twelve years, bitter without the warmth of a kiss... was Amy ready for that? But the painter didn’t dare.

  When Amy stared once more at the sea, Paul looked at the sky and pressed his body against hers.

  “Paul...” began Amy from the kitchen, while washing a lettuce.

  “Yes?”

  “Is it a bother for you to sleep here every night?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “I’m just saying... I don’t know...”

  “What don’t you know?” asked Paul amused, getting closer to Amy.

  “I mean... well...” stammered Amy, thoughtful. “Perhaps there’s a woman in Dingle, who...”

  “There’s no one, Amy,” said Paul, interrupting her.

  “But, isn’t it a little bit weird?”

  “Amy... we’re just getting to know each other. What is it? Do you want me to leave?”

  “No, I don’t... I don’t want to be alone. I really don’t,” just a month before, Amy would have been unable to say something like that. Now, she couldn’t conceive the idea of being home without Paul. Without company... his company.

  “It’s Friday tomorrow. Do you want to go out? We could go to Murphy’s. Or somewhere else, if you’d prefer it.”

  Amy thought of Ruby. Of her bright smile and youthful eyes. She thought of the last time she saw her in Murphy’s, speaking joyfully with Paul. She didn’t get to know her very well, but she could picture her, telling her something like: “Hey, Amy! Go out! Have fun! That’s what life is for, to have a good time. Enjoy every second of it, you will never know when will be the last. Look at me...”

  “Yeah, let’s go out,” answered Amy with a wide smile.

  The nine clicks were heard from the switch in Amy’s room, as they were every night. Paul, who had trouble falling asleep, count
ed them again, wondering why Amy did that before going to bed.

  Amy, in her room, had also trouble falling asleep and she could hear them again... steps. Slow, but confident steps. She shivered. A knot formed in her throat, making it difficult for her to breath. Scared, she rose from her bed. She could still hear the steps... getting closer. Coming to her room. The door opened a little. But there was no one behind it.

  Suddenly, the curtain appeared to move, she suspected a draft but every window was closed.

  “Tom?” asked Amy, frightened.

  She felt a nonexistent stare. The sensation that someone she couldn’t see was touching her shoulder made her crawl out of her room and stand right in front of the guest’s room where Paul slept. She hesitated for a couple of seconds, wandering with unrest by the hall... until she decided to step in. Paul, who was still awake, stared at her with confusion.

  “Can I sleep with you tonight?” asked Amy shyly.

  “Of course. Come here,” answered Paul, moving on the bed to make room for her.

  Amy lied next to Paul. They stared at each other and couldn’t help but to laugh.

  “Nothing is going to happen,” said Amy.

  “Can I at least hold you?” dared Paul. Amy hesitated for a moment. It had been a long, long time since the last time she had slept with someone... a long time since she had been held by someone. But it was what she wanted the most right now.

  “Yes.”

  Paul held her with tenderness. She had a sweet and delicate smell. Amy felt good, comfortable and protected. The fear she had experienced in her room had vanished. Feeling Paul’s breath on her neck, she experienced an excitement she had long forgotten; it had been such a long time since another skin had touched hers. Just like Paul, she was making an effort not to turn around to kiss him. She would have made love to him. It would have been perfect. But she closed her eyes and saw Tom once more... she knew she had a date with the past, even in the arms of another man.

  “Finally, Amy” said Tom from the peak of a mountain. A new dream stage that Amy had never previously visited. Amy, from the bottom, could hear him as if he were talking right by her ear.

  “Is it okay for you?” asked Amy, confused.

  “It is. I want you to be happy. And he makes you happy. He makes you safe, Amy... He makes you safe, Amy... He makes you safe, Amy...”

  Amy had to cover her ears. The mountain crumbled and Tom fell once more into a loop.

  At eight in the morning, the restless raindrops awoke Amy and Paul, who had slept deeply in the same position the whole night. Very close together. Paul stretched and looked at Amy, who was standing up from the bed. She was gorgeous.

  “Did you sleep well?” asked Paul.

  “Yeah, just fine,” said Amy smiling and covering herself with the duvet, trying to forget Tom’s face from her dreams, to focus on the man before her.

  Surreptitiously, Amy contemplated Paul. His naked torso looked strong, well defined and intimidating. Contemplating him, she noticed he had a tattoo. An A. For Abbey. And under it, a date in Roman numbers.

  His disheveled brown hair looked charming, and she could have easily lost herself in his sleepy honey eyes... Paul’s tanned skin, his attractive expression lines, caused by the tears and laughter he had experienced during his thirty-eight years of life.

  “Is there something on my face?” asked Paul, laughing.

  “What? No, no...

  Amy stood up in a hurry and ran to her room to get changed. She could still remember the first time Tom kissed her. It had happened while they were sitting on the swings, in a park at sunset. Tom had suddenly stood up and, without warning, had kissed her deeply and passionately. They were nineteen. From then on, they’re relationship changed. And it was extraordinary. They were no longer just friends, there was something else between them. Love. Passion. Desire. Even among the problems Tom’s gift caused.

  It was always difficult with Tom. Bad times, so many bad times... but everything seemed easy... perhaps things only became complicated with time.

  Approaching forty, people often demand more of themselves, and of the person they’re with. Paul seemed to be the perfect man – who didn’t have visions or a gift that disrupted his life. Easy. Simple. Paul was also an extraordinary man, just like Tom... but in a different way. Amy liked the way he looked at her. The way he smiled at her... the dimples in his cheeks when he laughed. Paul had walked into her life unannounced, strong and unexpected like a hurricane. And she had allowed him in, after such a long time of feeling trapped in her fears and her doubts.

  Paul was already in the kitchen making coffee when Amy came down, wearing a faded pair of jeans and a wide blouse with blue stripes.

  “You can go to the porch to smoke, I’ll bring you your coffee,” said Paul kindly.

  “Thank you, Paul.”

  Soon after, Paul sat next to her and offered her a cup of coffee.

  “Coco Chanel used to say...” began Paul, taking a sip from his own cup. “Happiness is also about the things you let go, for your own good.”

  “Why are you telling me that, Paul?”

  “Nothing, I’m just rambling,” laughed Paul. But it made sense to him, who had decided to be happy by letting go of a painful part of his past. Letting go Abbey, finally, her ghost. Completely, without guilt.

  “You turned my life upside down, did you know?” Paul looked at her surprised. “I’m weird... I’m so weird... with so many obsessions, and a tight routine. That’s how I used to live in London. I knew my habits would change when I got here, but I can’t get used to that.

  “I’m not sure I follow you.”

  “In London, I used to go up and down the stairs so fast, to avoid seeing any of my neighbors. I never wanted to hear from anyone. I stayed out of touch... I even stopped talking to my own mother. My social life was non-existent, and I even tried to avoid the people from my work, who I still had to see because I couldn’t help it. And now...” Amy paused briefly and smiled. “I can’t get used to not being alone, Paul. But, at the same time, I can’t imagine being without you” said she, looking into his eyes.

  Paul nodded, smiling, but said nothing. He preferred to wait... wait for the right moment. That seemed to disappoint Amy, who discreetly took a sip of her coffee and a drag of her cigarette, contemplating the view.

  “So, should we go out tonight, then? Even if it rains...?” asked Paul, changing the subject.

  “Does it ever not rain?” asked Amy, laughing. “Are there any news of...?”

  “The murders?” interrupted Paul, knowingly. “No,” he denied.

  Amy and Paul walked together by Dingle’s streets. Everybody stared at them surprised, and right before they went into a seafood restaurant, Out of the Blue, right by the port, old Rowan Cárthaigh stopped the couple suddenly and violently. His small and wrinkly blue eyes seemed possessed.

  “You,” he said, pointing at Amy with rage. “It’s your fault. It’s you who have brought such disgrace to this town, you’re a witch!” he yelled before the attentive stare of other passerby’s.

  “Rowan, come on... go back home,” said Paul amiably.

  “No! Paul, stay away from her. She’s a witch, she is cursed. She is cursed!” kept screaming the enraged man, keeping his eyes on a very frightened Amy, who was about to burst into tears.

  “Dad!” yelled a middle aged woman, walking towards them in a hurry. “I’m very sorry... dad, what are you saying? Come on, let’s go back home. I’m truly sorry,” she apologized, taking with her old Rowan, who couldn’t walk properly without the aid of his cane.

  Amy, still paralyzed by what had happened, kept staring at the old man, who was walking away slowly, his daughter screaming and shaking her head. Crestfallen, she was unable to stop the tears and Paul, contemplating her evident displeasure, held her tight.

  “Don’t worry, Amy... Rowan is senile. He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” encouraged her Paul.

  “What if he’s right?”

&nb
sp; “What? How can he be right? Nothing is your fault. Come on, forget about it. Let’s have a good time, you will love the food in Out of the Blue.

  Amy nodded and walked with him into the restaurant to enjoy a lovely dinner, accompanied by an interesting conversation, which was already usual among them. When they got to Murphy’s, the stares renewed. Just like old Rowan, people seemed to mistrust Amy. It was as if she was somehow guilty of the murders that have disturbed the town’s peace. No one dared to go near her, and even though Paul didn’t want to acknowledge it, he had to eventually recognize that people’s behavior was not normal.

  “What’s wrong with you? She’s amazing,” said Paul, taking advantage of the fact that Amy had gone to the bar to order a beer.

  “Amazing? Don’t you mean odd?” said April, Samuel’s wife.

  “It’s strange, Paul. Nothing had ever happened in Dingle. Suddenly, she gets here and Ruby and that tourist show up dead in the river,” said Karl, the most solicited mechanic in town.

  “It was just a coincidence,” tried to defend her Paul. “A tragic coincidence. Treat her kindly, would you?

  Even though some of Paul’s friends nodded, they avoided speaking to Amy the whole night. Amy decided to step aside and took some distance from Paul to avoid causing him trouble with his friends. She drank and drank until she ended up once again on the dance floor, dancing, losing control of her own body. At midnight, Paul got close to her and, again, scared off a couple of men who were getting closer to the beautiful, drunk woman.

  “Let’s go back home,” said Paul, grabbing her by the waist as he had done the first night he slept in the Butterfly.

  Paul entered the house with Amy in his arms, deeply asleep. He put her on her bed and went to the guest’s room. But minutes later, Amy opened the door and lied next to him. Saying nothing. Paul held her. Amy, still troubled by the effects of alcohol, smiled and fell placidly asleep... that night, she dreamed of Paul. Of the kisses he still hadn’t given her. Of the hands she knew so well, and the embraces that comforted her.