Art by Jen Watt
The Thin Wall Between Worlds
by Bhavin Siritanaratkul
E-sha jou-ri.
A simple saying with four Japanese characters. All who meet, must one day part.
I visited my wife Sayaka's favourite tree on the hill nearly every day after her passing. It was a modest plum tree in a small clearing, tucked away from the path’s view. On a gentle slope leading to Mount Takao on the outskirts of Tokyo, it bloomed faint pink petals which flew about in the breeze.
This tree was not an exceptional specimen in any way. Yet to me, it was one of the few places that still held meaning in this world.
Has it been a year already since the car accident?
I closed my eyes and lay back onto the picnic blanket beneath the plum tree. The sun was warm on my face, and I caught the faint, sweet fragrance of the blossoms. The voices of playing children drifted from afar, but otherwise the world was still. I tried to summon the memories of Sayaka in my mind.
I could picture her lying next to me, fitting snuggly into the crook of my arm. She would tell me a story about Mr Saitou and Mr Tanaka bickering again in the office, and we would laugh. She always tossed her head back when she laughed, and she never cared that people could hear her from across the park. Sometimes she would pout at something I’d said, looking so cute my heart nearly stopped. Some scenes like these stood out in my mind’s eye, but I could already sense other memories were blending together, and each day my Sayaka became a tiny bit blurrier around the edges.
I caught a whiff of something familiar. It was Sayaka’s shampoo, as vivid as if her head rested on my shoulder. The flowery scent was unmistakable; I’d breathed it in a thousand times. I sprang up, squinting in the sudden light.
‘Sayaka!’ I shouted before I could catch myself. The clearing was empty.
But she had been here.
The next day I returned to the tree, but nothing magical happened. Then the next day, and the next, until I convinced myself it had been a trick of the mind. Misfiring neurons. Hallucinations to be expected in the wake of such a loss.
It took me a few years to understand.
Some called it a power spot. A liminal space. A thin place. Where our world overlapped, fleetingly, with another world. And for our special spot, the barriers between worlds became permeable only on the anniversary of her passing.
The following year, I sat down again next to the plum tree and closed my eyes. No scents greeted me this time. Instead, an electric tingle passed through my body, and I shuddered. When I opened my eyes, I knew right away that I was in a different world. The air had a hazy quality, and the world became more washed-out the further I looked.
There she was.
No. There we were.
I saw Sayaka and myself, sitting on a picnic blanket, on the other side of the tree. I knew that bright blue sweater right away. And from my tense pose, I recognized it was our first date. She had joined my office floor, but it had taken me half a year to gather the courage to ask her out to the summer fireworks.
Beneath the plum tree, I tried to make conversation. ‘So do you, er, have any plans for later?’
She shot me a knowing look. ‘Bored of this date already?’
‘No no, that’s not what I meant…’
‘I can’t believe you only asked me out so you can take me home afterwards,’ she said, maintaining a pout until she couldn’t hold it. She burst out laughing at my shocked expression. ‘I’m kidding, you silly,’ she said. I nearly collapsed with relief. ‘You need to relax and be yourself. I like just sitting with you here.’
She grabbed my hand when one of the fireworks exploded right above us. She didn’t let go, so I took that as a sign to keep holding her hand.
The scene played out right in front of me, but when I tried to walk towards them, somehow the air felt more viscous, as if I were wading through mud. I was moving, but getting no closer. Seeing her again set my heart racing.
In a blink, I was back in my own world. I tried to hold on to the fresh scene, to sear all the little details into my mind. If only I could see her smile once more.
***
I no longer visited the plum tree as often as before, but I always made sure to be there on the day of her passing. One year, a large earthquake had struck just the day before, cancelling all the trains. I had to cycle for two hours to reach the hill.
Which Sayaka will I see today?
When I was taken through to the other world, I saw Sayaka alone, with a pensive look and sad eyes.
She’d never come here without me. This never happened.
This meant the place beyond the plum tree wasn’t just a single world. It could be any possible reality — from the past, the future, to realms where things had turned out differently.
The next year, I sat down at the plum tree again, going through the same ritual. This time Sayaka was there with a different man.
His face was unfamiliar, but the way they were sitting was just like how Sayaka and I used to be. A huge lump caught in my throat as I watched her smile and laugh with her usual abandon. After a brief period of torment, I managed to calm myself down. Even though she was with someone else, just seeing her happy made it all worthwhile.
***
My right knee ached as I trudged up the path to the hill, forcing me to pause and catch my breath more often than I wanted to admit.
The path up the hill was blocked off with bright yellow tape, saying “Construction Site”. Except on the special day, I never came up to this hill anymore, since I didn’t want to enjoy the tree with only sad memories for company. I slipped past the tape, but ahead steel fences and scaffolding encircled the small hill, blocking Sayaka’s plum tree from view.
In a blind panic, I went around the fence looking for any way in. There—A door! But it was locked. I bashed my fists against it, making the steel reverberate with jarring clangs.
A construction worker ran from around the corner. ‘Hey old man! Stop that!’
‘Who’re you calling old? And what’s happened to my plum tree?’
‘Didn’t you hear? They’re building a new shrine here. It should be finished next year.’
I sank to my knees. The worker approached me, but I waved him off.
‘Please, can you let me in? I need to see a tree. Just one more time.’
The worker frowned and tilted his head, but seemed to decide that it was less hassle to comply than to demand an explanation. He led me in through another door in the fence. I hurried to the clearing, but the plum tree was gone. The space was now a yard with piles of rock and sand.
I sat down as close as I could to where the tree once stood, and closed my eyes. The familiar feel of shifting worlds washed over me, but this time it felt different. Muffled. Weaker.
When I opened my eyes, Sayaka was sitting beside me. And for the first time, she looked straight at me.
‘Hey love, I can’t see you. But I know you’re there,’ she said. Her voice was faint, as if carried on the wind.
I reached out, but my fingers went through her arm with a slight shimmer. She didn’t seem to notice. She had some grey in her hair, and more laugh lines. Older than the Sayaka frozen in time in my memories, but still as beautiful.
She whispered, ‘I’ve missed you. But sometimes when I come here, I can feel you next to me again.’ In that world, it must have been me who had died in the car accident instead of her.
I tried to wipe the tears streaming from my face. When I opened my eyes again, she was gone. “E-sha jou-ri,” I told myself. I would not see her again. I had no way of knowing, but in my heart, I knew that in another world beyond the thin barrier, Sayaka was out there, thinking of me.
About the author:
Bhavin Siritanaratkul is an electrochemist and research coordinator at the University of Liverpool. He finds time to write fiction when not running experiments or fixing the gas chromatograph. His short stories have been published at Every Day Fiction and 365 Tomorrows.
