My Little Cage

ONE

April 20, 2023

Thursday.

I don’t want you to think I’m crazy. But the truth is, I see dead people. Not in a Haley Joel Osment/Bruce Willis kind of way, exactly…

Thirty-year-old Sydney Shepheard walked out of her psychologist’s office into a sunny afternoon, having not said those words. Maybe her sessions with Doctor Sinclair were privileged, but that didn’t mean she wanted to give him a reason to recommend a stay at Crystal Waters, the mental institution two sleepy towns over.

Feeling unsettled, Sydney decided on a guaranteed pick-me-up. The business district was small and everything close, the bank only a 300-metre stroll down the main street. And the weather couldn’t have been more pleasant for a Tasmanian autumn day.

Kristelle was behind the counter, shielded from the outside world by a pane of Perspex. While Sydney waited her turn, she appreciated the twenty-nine-year-old’s je ne sais quoi. Krissy wore a crisp, powder-blue shirt, her long burgundy mane was tied in a charmingly messy knot, and the cobalt frames of her specs betrayed to Sydney a delightful spark of spirit.

As Kristelle snapped a rubber band around a wad of notes, she caught Sydney’s eye, and winked as she handed the cash to the gent she was serving.

Sydney’s heart fluttered.

The gent thanked Kristelle and departed, and Sydney fixed an imagined stray fringe as she stepped to the counter.

Kristelle beamed. “Good afternoon, Miss Shepheard.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Kent.”

“How does your day progress?”

“Great, actually. I made it through another appointment without being committed.”

Kristelle chuckled. “I knew you could do it.” They exchanged a smile, which left Sydney's synapses momentarily scrambled. Kristelle said, “Well, tell me, Miss Shepheard. What is it I can do for you today? Let me guess, you’ve got your eye on the new two dollar.”

“A roll of ones, if you would be so kind.”

“What is it you hope to get your hands on this time?”

“Two-thousand-twenty Donation coin. It has green on it, you know. I’m a sucker for green on gold.”

“Ah. Well, I’ll keep an eye out.” Kristelle opened the drawer with a wry smile on her lips. “Surely there’s an easier way to acquire these coins, dear Syd.”

“Easier maybe, but nowhere near as fun.”

“Like Charlie finding his golden ticket inside a Wonka bar?”

“Exactly.”

Kristelle pushed the roll through the slot. Sydney, on seeing Kristelle’s hand safely retrace, reached for the small, tightly packed cylinder… only to spot Kristelle’s hand returning and apparently reaching for Sydney’s own.

Sydney recoiled. Kristelle snapped her hand back, and the weightless smile vanished. In its place was pink-cheeked embarrassment. She smoothed her hands over the bodice of her shirt. “I’m… I’m sorry, Syd.”

Shamed, Sydney murmured, “No, Krissy, I’m sorry. It’s… it’s not…”

Kristelle peered over Sydney’s shoulder. “I… I need to keep serving. Don’t want to upset the boss.”

“Maybe… maybe I’ll see you tomorrow if… if I strike out with this lot.”

“I won’t be in. It’s my day off.”

“Oh.”

Before Sydney turned, Kristelle said, “I’ll be in Monday though, if you’re still chasing your green on gold.”

At least partially relieved, Sydney gave her a thin smile before shuffling to the exit.

TWO

Sunday afternoon relinquished the charm of its earlier hours, with a cloud cover that wasn’t quite a blanket, but thick enough to keep the temperature on the chillier side of agreeable.

Even so, Sydney ventured out to the park, and took a seat there with a book. She could have devoured its pages in the heated comfort of her flat, but it was too quiet there. Out here she had her green in the Blackwoods and Eucalypts, and the pink of galah’s fossicking in the grass. She had families walking dogs and pushing strollers, holding hands and stroking backs. Although Sydney wouldn’t allow herself to be touched, she still needed the presence of people: their easy laughter, their mundane chatter, their own physical connection that somehow appeased Sydney’s lack of it, even from a distance.

A burst of sunshine brightened the page, and then a shadow fell across it. Sydney looked up to find Kristelle smiling down at her. “Miss Shepheard. It’s… it’s nice to see you outside the confines of my little cage.”

Sydney was seized by a moment of dread, until she realised that after the episode at the bank, Kristelle would unlikely try to touch her again. She sucked in a calming breath, then offered a warm, “Hello, Miss Kent.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

The bench was a three-seater, and for that reason, Sydney nodded. Kristelle sat at the end. Sydney studied her with a smile. The hue of Krissy’s spectacles made her blue eyes all the more vibrant, and her voluminous hair fell freely over her shoulders.

Kristelle’s hands stayed in her pockets as she said, “Listen, about what happened—”

“I am… so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Kristelle gave a shallow nod. “I guess I… I guess I thought maybe you were coming to the bank to see me. It was presumptuous. I made you uncomfortable and I’m sorry.”

Sydney wanted to explain. So badly, she wanted to justify her behaviour. Kristelle removed a fist from her pocket. She unfurled it to reveal a pristine gold coin, with a sphere of green at its centre. “I… I found this just this morning. You wouldn’t believe, it came with the change from my coffee. I thought I’d give it to you Monday, but here we are.” She offered up the gift with an open palm.

There was no way Sydney could accept it without touching Kristelle’s pale skin. She looked into that questioning expression with profound regret, only to see those eyes fall with matching disappointment. Kristelle laid the coin on the seat between them, and then stood.

Sydney said, “Wait, Krissy. Don’t… don’t go. Please. Let me explain.” Kristelle’s tautness of jaw indicated to Sydney not annoyance, but concern. She sat, and Sydney checked over her shoulder for ears that might have been too close. Then she said, “I don’t want you to think I’m a complete nut job.”

Krissy nodded. “Okay. No assumptions about jobs - nutty or otherwise - will be made.” Kristelle raised a hand with three fingers pointing skyward, and thumb and pinkie crossing her palm. “Scout’s honour.”

Sydney grimaced for the thought of saying what she was about to say. “Sometimes… sometimes I see things.”

Kristelle gave her head a tweak. “See things? Syd, I don’t…”

“When I touch people.”

Kristelle’s lips parted, and her discerning eye burrowed. “Or when people touch you.”

Sydney nodded glumly. “Yes.”

“What kinds of things do you see?”

“Sickness. Disease. And sometimes… sometimes I see death.” Kristelle’s right eyebrow bounced like a diver from a springboard. Sydney groaned. “You think I’m crazy.”

“No.” Sydney cocked her head. Kristelle said, “Well, maybe I was getting there. But I’m not there yet.” Sydney sighed and tried to sink further into the seat. All she succeeded in doing was hurting her backbone. Kristelle said, “Explain it to me. What does sickness look like?”

“It’s… it’s hard to describe.”

“Take your time.”

The last time it had happened was after a contact between Sydney and a co-worker, who had patted her on the shoulder. The image was scorched into her brain like a brand. “Kind of… melty, I guess. Like wax under a flame.”

Kristelle asked solemnly, “They look like that all the time?”

“No. Just a… it’s just a moment. Then they appear normal again.”

“And what about death? What does death look like?”

The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and the temperature dropped so rapidly that Sydney shivered. She hugged herself and replied, “Grey. Dark. Empty.”

“How do you know it means what you think it means? Everybody gets sick eventually, Syd. Everybody dies.”

“Not like this. It doesn’t take long once I’ve seen it. A couple of months. Sometimes it’s only a matter of days.”

“So it doesn’t happen every time you touch someone?”

“I don’t know anymore. I haven’t touched anyone in a very long time.”

“How long?”

Sydney sat forward and clasped her hands. “That last time, I was leaving on a plane for Melbourne. My family – my parents and two sisters – dropped me off at the airport. As we were saying goodbye, I saw it in all their faces. This grey... nothing. I was… so scared. Before that day, I had only seen sickness. But I knew. Somehow, I knew something terrible was going to happen. All four of them died in a car accident three days later. That was eight years ago, and I haven’t touched anyone since.”

After a long, silent stare at the ground, Sydney sat back and looked over at her company. Kristelle’s lids were like overwrought dams, and they were buckling under the strain.

“Oh, Syd. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

With her own eyes watering, Sydney said, “I never gave a damn about coins until you started working at that bank. But I wanted an excuse to come and see you. And I thought it was safer that way because…”

“Because of the barrier.” Sydney nodded. Kristelle inched closer, triggering Sydney’s alarm. Kristelle stalled with palms raised. She said, “Well, maybe… maybe it’s not something to be afraid of. Maybe it’s a warning system. Maybe you can share with people what you see.”

“But I don’t know how it’s going to happen. There isn’t enough there to be useful.”

“Okay. Okay, let’s put it to the test.”

“What?” Kristelle offered a paw, and Sydney replied with a vigorous headshake. Kristelle said gently, “Come on.”

“No. I… I can’t.”

“Listen to me. You did not cause the death of your family. They are not gone because of anything you saw or did. And if you see that I’m sick, or that my own demise is near, maybe it’s something I can change.”

Sydney implored, “But I… I don’t want to see you that way. Ever.”

“Well, what I want is to touch you. I want to touch you, Syd Shepheard. And I’m sure as hell not going to let you go another eight years without you touching someone else.”

“I… Krissy, I can’t.”

Krissy slid her butt across the seat. She brought her lips so near to Sydney’s that Syd was sure she could feel the heat radiating from Kristelle’s flesh. Without touching, Krissy made a gesture of cupping Sydney’s jaw. Her fingers were so close that Sydney froze, for fear of inadvertently bumping into them. She was frightened, but also enthralled. She hadn’t seen eyes this close for so long, that the intricate patterns of Kristelle’s irises appeared as nothing short of a masterpiece.

Her heart jacked in her chest like billiard balls slamming the cushion, but she had no idea if it was fear, or excitement, or a rousing blend of both.

Kristelle murmured, “I’m going to kiss you now, Syd, just so you know.” The only way out was to fall off the edge of the seat. But Sydney didn’t want to fall off the edge.

Instead, she whispered, “I… I guess I can’t stop you.”

Kristelle flashed a smile, and Sydney closed her eyes. Kristelle’s fingertips – warm and gentle – stroked the underneath of Sydney’s jaw. And then those soft, full lips of carmine pressed against her mouth. At first, Sydney was just a tactile witness to the supple flesh that connected with her own. But then she was a willing participant, oblivious to anything that wasn’t Kristelle Kent. The warmth of her. The clean, coconut scent of her. The tenderness of each impeccably crafted caress.

When that magic kiss ended, and without opening her eyes, Sydney found Kristelle’s cheek.

Kristelle whispered, “Look at me, Syd. Don’t be afraid.”

Sydney sucked in a breath. Then she slowly peeled her eyes.

Kristelle was looking back at her, vibrant and whole. “Tell me, what do you see?”

Sydney could barely contain her joy. She pulled Kristelle into an ecstatic hug, and Kristelle returned it with laughing glee.

THREE

Two years later.

Sydney returned home at 18:38 Friday night, to the aroma of basil and garlic.

Kristelle was in the kitchen, hovering over the stove. Without turn of head, she said, “Honey, where on earth have you been? Gemma and Patty will be here any minute. Dinner is almost ready. I think it just needs a little more…” She doused the open pan with salt from the grinder.

Sydney stepped in close behind her. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Kristelle peered over her shoulder, and on detecting Sydney’s earnestness, switched off the stove. She turned and gently palmed Sydney’s cheek. “What is it? Did… has something happened? Oh, god, Syd. Did you see something? You haven’t seen anything this whole—"

Seeing the worry in those huge eyes, Sydney took the small velvet gift box from her pocket. “I did see something. I saw you. I didn’t want to see anybody. I didn’t want to feel this way. I was so scared of what it would mean. You saved me from that misery. I thought I was crazy, but you never treated me as anything other than unique. I can’t imagine where I’d be without you today, and I cannot imagine my life without you going forward. Kristelle Kent, will you do me the honour of accepting this very expensive ring?”

The misty-eyed Kristelle patted her chest, then removed the emerald-saddled diamond from its nest. She was beaming when she said, “Well now, that depends. Can you reschedule Gemma and Patty in the next five minutes? Because I have an urge to do very smutty things to you right now.”

“Oh, about that. Gemma called earlier. They can’t make it till eight.”

Kristelle slid the ring on her finger, then slipped her arms around Sydney’s neck. “Then it will be my privilege to accept this very expensive ring.” They shared a kiss. Slow. Deep. Then Krissy murmured, “Dear Syd, you are my green on gold, the love of my life. Please come with me to the bedroom where I will do very smutty things to you.”

Sydney reached for the pan, and put the lid on dinner.

ONE

April 20, 2023

Thursday

Sydney sat in the tidy, if not cosy, office of her psychologist, Peter Sinclair. Across from her was a grand landscape photo, perhaps as much as two metres wide, of a rocky beach, with a lone seagull at its centre.

The balding, business-shirt attired Peter said, “This is your safe place, Sydney. You know we can talk about anything. There is no right or wrong here.”

Sydney picked at her sleeve. So often she’d thought about telling him, and yet had chickened out every time. She knew how it sounded. It sounded insane. But he was a doctor. Surely, he’d fielded admissions way crazier.

She picked up the half empty glass in front of her and sipped. Then she took a deep breath, and expelled a confession. “I don’t want you to think I’m crazy. But the truth is, I… I see dead people. Not in a Haley Joel Osment/Bruce Willis kind of way, exactly…”

At the end of the session, Doctor Peter Sinclair would recommend Sydney voluntarily commit herself to a stint at Crystal Waters. After having not allowed herself the touch of another human being for the past eight years, her delusions were having a very real, very negative impact on her life.

Sydney would leave his office, and decide against visiting the bank. Clearly, she was ill and needed to get herself well, instead of fantasizing about Kristelle and the kind of relationship the two of them might have.

Sydney would spend six months at Crystal Waters. In that time, she would be medicated and counselled, and still fall into depression on leaving. She would not be cured, and Kristelle Kent would become nothing more than a dreamy respite from a foggy, drug-induced hell.

Sydney would live another eight years, and die alone of a prescription-drug overdose.

The only thing of value that will be retrieved from her residence will be an extensive coin collection, and with that, a photo of a smiling burgundy-haired woman, wearing blue-rimmed specs.