Lost Images

I’d been in the house for a couple of weeks and needed to get out and get some fresh air. I decided to go for a walk. The brisk fall air would do me some good; hopefully improve this crappy mood I’d been in. I mean, I’d always kind of known we wouldn’t be together forever. Even though it wasn’t all bad, it’s not like we were the perfect couple. But now I’m lonely. I hate this feeling of longing; knowing there isn’t anything I can do about it; I miss us. Here I go, heading back down the rabbit hole. Anyway, it’s Saturday morning, and I’m going for a walk.

               I bundle up because I’ve never been a true fan of cold weather. I must admit, the leaves were lovely in their shades of burnt orange, brown, and green. I start slowly but pick up the pace when I realize it’s early enough that the little boutique stores along the Avenue will be nearly empty, which is rare. Having always been a fan of thrifting, I used to love browsing the aisles of the vintage shops there. And it’d been a while.

I step into a newer business I hadn’t seen before.  “Welcome. Please give a shout if you have any questions or need something in particular.”, says the woman behind the counter. “Sure will.”, I respond quietly. The air is fragrant with dragon’s blood incense, giving the place an old world feel. Rich tapestries drape the walls to my right, beneath which sit shelves of woven baskets filled with an assortment of colorful beads and yarn. Farther along the wall are more rugs and wall hangings. Everything looks exquisitely detailed, handmade.

As I run my hand along the seams of a block-printed piece of fabric, she says “Those are from Jaipur, from my last trip east. My friend Anika has owned a shop there for the last six years. I also have some larger area rugs from Bhadohi near the back of the store. Are you looking for a specific color?” “Not really. I’m just out and don’t remember seeing your place, so I figured I’d stop in.” “You just missed our Grand Opening by a week. I’m excited to be back in this neighborhood. I actually grew up not too far from here.”, she tells me. “Oh. I’ve lived here for a couple of months. I fell in love with the restaurants first”, we laugh together. “Yes, the food here has always been delicious, pretty much no matter which place you pick.”

Another person comes in and she greets them. I hear a man say he’s there to pick up something, so they walk further into the store, leaving me alone to explore. The place is really overstocked with décor of all types. I see some kitchen knickknacks, which I’m a sucker for. I pick up a hand-carved wooden spoon and fork set that’s embossed with sunflowers. It says Here, All are Welcome. There are trays of flatware, glasses, and bowls. There are spices and fragrant oils. Making a circle around the rear endcaps and heading back toward the front of the store, there are rows of handmade purses and light sweaters. Knowing that I don’t need any has never stopped me from buying more, so I walk a little quicker through that section. Up closer to the front are more tapestries hanging. The baskets below these hold crystals. The sunlight refracting through them form rainbows and shadows on the nearest walls. The placement is really very beautiful. Handheld mirrors help bounce the light around the area. There are compact mirrors and what appear to be older, antique bronzed pieces. Deep mahogany wooden handles, some intricately carved, some plain.

I think of the infamous mirror in Snow White, but none of these are quite large enough to hang. This one, with its golden hue of antique brass, ruby red, turquoise, and lemon stones laid along the handle, is stunning. The mirror itself was either very old or hadn’t been cared for. The edges appear tarnished with copper spots here and there. They give the piece a distinct feel of luxury. I turn it over and see the tag’s ink has been smeared. Looking around, the man has gone, and the lady is back at the counter.

“Hi. Can you tell me how much this is? The sticker is hard to read.”, I ask as I approach her. “Let me see.”, she reaches for the mirror, and for some reason I hesitate handing it over. All at once I feel like she’s violated me by asking for it. I pull it in towards my body without thinking. Once I realize what I’ve done, I chuckle self-consciously, and say “Absolutely. Sorry about that.” “She is a beaut. I can’t remember if she’s from Singapore or Bali. Doesn’t look quite like glass. Could be from the Anatolian Peninsula, made of polished obsidian. But this handle…hmm…”, she trails off into thought, looking enthralled, as if this were her first time seeing the mirror herself. She rotated the handle into the light coming from the nearest window.

“Ah.”, she says, deeply studying the details along the front and back of the handle. She’s staring for at least a minute before she says, “Oh. I’m sorry. Let me check.” and reaches for the computer, hitting a few keys. “Says here this mirror was cataloged at $55. Would you..?”, again she trails off as if she doesn’t want to finish her question. “Yes, please. I’ll take it.” “Let me just wrap it up for you.”, she responds, still a bit slowly, still staring at the carvings along the handle and the back. “Thank you.” I say, the words breaking her from her trance. After having paid and been handed the wrapped bundle, she says “Here’s a card for 20 percent off the next time you’re around.” “Thanks, again.”

I leave the boutique with my purchase, intending to grab a latte from the corner coffee shop. But next I look up I’m walking the path to the house. I truly love this little cottage. After leaving my corporate job as a marketing professional downtown, I wanted to live in an area that would allow me to breathe deeply without the bustling sounds that accompanied the city. I’d found the suburb by accident, really. Having missed my exit heading to a meeting, I ended up searching these blocks for a way to my location without having to get back on the busy freeway. The shops were quaint, houses well-kept of older architecture, enough parks to be family-friendly, and not a single high-rise building. To top it off, there was a forest preserve surrounding the area with a natural lake tucked away.

I came back with Travis a week later to get a better look around. Road trips had kinda been our thing. We stayed at the Holiday Inn Express, one of only two hotels in the area. We walked around the neighborhoods, holding hands, sharing laughs. That’s when we realized how good the food was. Over that weekend we’d managed to eat in nearly every restaurant around town. In truth, I’d already had one foot out the door as a marketer. With the advent of social media, the job description had shifted drastically, and I wasn’t at all excited about the direction my company was taking. I wanted to leverage email marketing and search engine optimization. But the old guard wasn’t ready to capitalize on that adventure. So, when I was offered an exclusively virtual automation specialist position with a short track to management, I jumped at the chance. It came with a hefty pay raise that would afford me the opportunity to finally stop renting and buy a home. Travis had said he wanted the same thing, but he wasn’t quite ready to limit his options of bars and nightclubs. He’d always been social one. It’s why we’d gotten along so well. I needed someone to be comfortable with outside.

The real estate agent was hosting a showing that weekend. We lucked up on it while walking off a late lunch, though it was still sunny out. The agent was happy to show us around even though we didn’t have an appointment. Everything about the house seemed made just for me. Facing east, the sun shone on the ample back yard, along the built-in deck. I thought then that I could see myself hosting a small gathering every now and again in the large kitchen. I put my bid in that weekend and we headed back to our apartments in the city. A month and a half later, he was gone, shot, dead. I closed on the home just about a month later.   

Walking into the kitchen, after unbundling my scarf, jacket, and boots, I realized how thirsty I was. Can’t believe I forgot to stop for that warm drink. It would have been nice. I made some tea instead. As I waited for the water to boil, I removed the mirror from its wrappings. The midday sun shone brightly and twinkled off the gems. I pulled the mirror toward my face, where it seemed to darken before catching the light. I looked tired; eyes drained. I just stared, running my finger along my cheekbone, my eyebrow, my lip. “You’ve definitely seen better days” I said to my reflection. A shadow passed across the reflection, and I turned to see who was at the window behind me. A neighbor out raking their leaves. I grabbed my favorite tea, leaving the mirror on the counter, while the tea steeped, and found a cloth to try and clean the glass a bit more if I could.

Sitting on the couch in the dining room, I had some jewelry cleaner I decided to use to try and brighten up the carvings inlaid across the handle. I rubbed and with a little pressure the golden hue brightened softly. I took a vinegar mixture to the dulled glass, dabbing gently, hoping not to make the spots any worse. The glass seemed to darken as I tilted the handle, but brightened again when I pulled it closer to inspect it. The red gem held my attention. There seemed to be a spec of something in the middle. I ran the dampened cloth across it, but it didn’t move. Looking closer at the other stones, there appeared to be a dark spot in each of them too, just directly in the middle. Turning the handle into and away from the light, the spot shifted, kind of morphed. I held the mirror straight and for just a second it was completely black. Frightening me, I turned my head quickly checking behind me. I looked back into the mirror, and it looked regular again. No amount of turning could make it black.

Being startled, only to realize it was my imagination, I lay the mirror down on the end table. Warmed from my tea, covered in my cozy throw with my warmest socks, I tucked in for a nap. As my eyes closed, my dream world unfolded in bright greens, oranges, yellows. In the distance a pyramid glowed translucent red from the sun just behind it. I walked along the golden path toward the pyramid, the lush trees swaying in the gentle breeze. I expected to hear birds, but there was only a soft chime, almost like a meditative flute accompanying me. There was no sign of activity anywhere, just large vibrant flowers, healthy trees, and smaller structures that could’ve been dwellings. My steps brought me to the pyramid quickly, though it at first appeared to be a great distance away. I looked back to see the bluest ocean I’d ever seen, vast, unending, no buildings, only rolling hills to either side, and a taupe sandy shoreline.  

There were steps, leading up the pyramid to a door, at just about the middle. I started up, each step glowing either yellow or turquoise as my foot landed on it and returning to the glowing red as my foot left it. Reaching the opening, I glanced inside to see Travis there, sitting at a mahogany bar all alone. The bar was a scene straight out of speakeasy, mellow jazz played, he turned and smiled at me. My heart lurched, ached, my feet carried me to him, my tongue heavy, stuck to the bottom of my mouth. He took my hand, pulling me in to him.

My eyes opened slowly, no more sun out. I rose, feeling heavy but not stiff. My tea was gone so I went to the kitchen for water. Coming back to the sofa I looked down at the mirror to see the edge of the bar, the soft lighting of the speakeasy, just a glimpse of his fingers.

I wondered what I’d dream about when next I slept.