ELEVEN

Mae

This new world is a strange, strange place.

It’s simply so much busier than the world I came from. There’s noise everywhere – from strange machines on the street, to the metal boxes that zoom above them and to the endless chatter from men, women, and children alike.

I stand on the corner of the street, watching as Toby rifles through some keys. I wrap my arms around myself – I’m still not accustomed to the ill-fitting clothing.

The door swings open, and Toby turns to me. “Sorry that you have to stick with me today. Hopefully, it won’t be too boring for you.”

I don’t say a word. I’m used to being chaperoned or confined. Another world, another prison – or so it seems.

Dani theorized that as we didn’t start to “disappear” until I crossed the bridge, that as long as we both stay inside the city, we should be fine.

So here I am, following Toby to his job in the city.

I follow Toby inside into an unlit room filled with rows of what look like shiny black squares.

Toby closes the door behind us and then wanders through the rows to a desk at the back, he presses something on the back of the wall, and the room is suddenly filled with light.

“Welcome to the music store.”

“I do not understand,” I say, picking up one of the cases and turning it over in my hands. “There are no instruments here.”

Toby smacks a hand against his forehead. “My god, I’m so dense, of course you won’t know what a CD is.”

He walks over to me and takes the case I’m holding from my hand and then pulls me to the back of the store where there sits a large metal box with lots of buttons running along it.

“This is a type of music box – you had music boxes back in your time, right?”

I nod. “None that look like this though.”

Toby grins. “So, this music box will play different music depending which one of these is inside it.” He holds up a silver disc and inserts it into the side of the player. “When I press play, the music will play through the speakers that are up in the corners of the room.” He presses the green button and immediately a strange strumming fills the room. I look up, trying to see what the speakers look like, when a man’s voice starts crooning.

I look at Toby, I can feel my mouth hanging open. “You can capture a person’s voice on that shiny circle?”

Toby grins. “Voices, drums, piano… lots of things. How does it sound?”

I pause, listening a little longer. I can’t fully understand what the singer is saying – but there’s a softness to his voice, and there’s a sorrow to the sound that aches through me.

“It sounds, sad.”

“That’s because it’s Elliot Smith, the man practically invented sad,” Toby says, ‘Do you like it?’

There is something haunting about the tune. The man’s voice is soft and breathy and… melancholic. Several instruments

‘It’s beautiful,’ I say finally. ‘Do you have any music sheets for it? It’s different to anything I have ever played before. I think I should like to try.’

Toby raises an eyebrow, ‘You play?’

I nod again, ‘Piano mostly, some violin…’

He grins, ‘Well, well. I’m impressed. Dani can’t hold a tune to save her life.’

I run a hand over some of the strange plastic cases. ‘Well there wasn’t much else to do in my –’ I clear my throat. ‘Where I’m from.’

‘Well, I’d love to hear you play some time,’ Toby says. ‘In the meantime, I am going to take upon the mammoth task of educating you in 21^st century music.’ Then without ceremony, he takes the CD out of the player and places another inside it. A different melody fills the room – faster paced and jumpier with a woman singing this time.

“Are you ready for the challenge?” Toby asks.

I grin, ‘I’ve never heard anything like it before.’

The rest of the morning passes in that manner – Toby picking out songs for me to listen to and then me describing the feeling that I get when listening to them. While he explains what type of music it is. He throws around loads of words like “genre” and “new age” and “grunge.” I hardly understand any of it, but I sit on a stool behind the counter and listen attentively as he organizes shelves and chats with customers. He seems to know so many people, and even the people he doesn’t know, he speaks to openly and with a smile.

I’ve never seen someone so at ease with themselves. His movements are languid and almost careless, his hair a complete mess, to the point where I wonder whether the mess is deliberate.

And then there are the people who visit the store – I see a woman with pink hair and a man with metal all through his nose.

If this does all end up being a dream, I think, it will be worth it for this image.

Because there’s something enchanting about this little world. Dark as the room is, it’s interesting to watch as all manner of people wander through it, browsing and buying the music discs.

When it reaches midday, Toby turns to look at me. “You must be hungry, outside there’s a hot dog stand, why don’t you go and buy one for us both?”

“I don’t think Dani would like that…”

Toby shrugs. “Who knows how long you’re going to be here. You need to be able to do some things for yourself.” He passes me some money. “Outside, to the right. It’s really not far. Come straight back, okay?”

I take the money and, without waiting another beat, leave the store.

Maybe, maybe this new world isn’t such a prison after all.

I follow Toby’s directions and the hot dog stand at the end of the street as he’d promised. An old man and a bright yellow truck cooking sausages and humming a tune. The smell from the stand sizzles through the air and I pick up my pace, money clutched in my hand.

As I approach, I notice a woman standing beside it.

And I know that she is waiting for me.

The woman walks to meet me - old and wrinkled and smiling. She holds a stained coffee cup in her hands and proffers it toward me as though offering it to drink. I regard the woman closely.

“I know who you are,’ I say, ‘You are Dani’s woman from the bridge.”

The old woman smiles. “I do not belong to Dani, and neither do you.”

I regard the cup before taking another step back. “I do not trust you,” I say carefully. “I

 do not understand why I am here.”

The old woman smiles broadly, revealing yellowed teeth and a gap-toothed smile. “Why is anyone anywhere?”

“That is not what I meant, you brought me here. I do not understand why.”

The old woman tilts her head to the side. “Reincarnation is a tricky business. The same soul can live a hundred different lives and be a hundred different people… who we are is so often shaped by the lives we lead. Do you not think?”

I think of Dani, I have not known her long, and I do not know her well – but already I can see some stark differences between the two of us. I can see how headstrong she is and how sad she seems. Briefly, I wonder how we compare.

“Yet in every life there is regret…” the old woman goes on. “And it can be carried from life to life… like a smudge on the soul.”

I try to picture it – a smudged soul.

“Yours and Dani’s regrets are very important to me,” the old woman says. “It is my belief that you can help one another. Do not let me down.”

“I still don’t understand,” I frown. “Why are we important to you?”

The old woman smiles once more, raises her stained mug of coffee and – at that moment – a couple walks in front of her. By the time they have passed by, she has disappeared completely.