Call the City Home

Fiction by Aili Sanchez

Her apartment had never been very full, but today it was emptier than the day she moved in. The piles of detritus that had been there when she first arrived had long since been cleaned out, and only a day prior, those shelves had been full of keepsakes from her journey to the City. The shelves were bare now, the most important of those keepsakes packed into her worn traveling backpack. The bag was covered in patches and repaired seams, but it had seen her through many journeys and would serve her well for the next one. 

At the very bottom of the bag, packed away carefully beneath her more practical supplies, were her keepsakes. There were two identical wedding rings, strung together on a silver chain that she had found in a gutter about six stations out from the City; a travel guide from her hometown, now filled with margin notes from her own observations of the places she’d been; stubs of train tickets, now punched through, that had carried them up the winding mountain rail to the City; and a single photograph in black and white, depicting her alongside a smiling young man, both dressed for their wedding but still wearing their traveling boots. 

Lexi sat in the single remaining chair, pulling on her boots. She traced over the old scuff marks and dents as she laced them up, each one a story of its own. They served her well, those boots, over mountains and through bogs on her way to the City. 

As she stood and did one last sweep around her apartment, Lexi’s mind drifted to a year prior, when the City was only a distant spark of hope on the horizon, a last resort for those who knew they were dying. 

She lifted the bag onto her back, her keys in the palm of her hand. The hallway outside her door was dimly lit by the rising sun slanting through the window, just enough light to make out the staircase leading down. She locked the door behind her; she had paid the lease for the next two years, and she didn’t particularly feel like letting in squatters. 

A few moments later she was outside, one hand raised to ward off the sun reflecting off windows into the shadowed street. The City was just starting to wake up, with a few people walking down the narrow street while the nearby shops prepped to open. She could smell the bread baking just a block down, and in a moment of weakness, turned towards the bakery. Might as well buy breakfast here, rather than paying absurd prices at the train station. 

“Morning, Lexi!” Charles, the baker, shouted as soon as she came into view. The bakery had no front wall, just pillars and roll-down tarps for when the weather was bad. When she first arrived, Lexi thought this a glaring lack of security, but soon thereafter realized that the unsold bread was left out deliberately, and all the money moved to the back room each night. 

“Morning,” she said, fighting back a yawn. For all that she was an early riser, there was something about seeing Charles so chipper that made her want to crawl back into bed. “Today’s the day then?” He said conversationally, throwing another set of loaves in the oven. His wife, Amelia, was hard at work shaping loaves at the counter; she waved briefly and went back to work. 

Lexi nodded. “Got the tickets last night,” she said, patting her pocket where the two tickets rested. One for the train trip out of the city, the other for passage across the sea. “It’s too bad,” Charles said, handing her a sandwich which seemingly appeared out of thin air. Lexi had long since given up on questioning it. “I really thought you’d stay, call the City home. I know it’s not for everyone, though.” 

“It’s a nice place,” Lexi conceded, digging a few coins out of her purse. “But I’ve always been drawn to traveling, and there’s not much point in staying now, is there?”

“I wish I could have helped you,” Charles said apologetically. “My mother’s been looking for your guy—actually, Ma, have you heard anything yet?” 

He glanced upwards at the ceiling as he said this, seeming to talk to the open air. Lexi waited, having grown used to this, though she did try to piece together both sides of the conversation from context. Seeing someone interact with the ghosts of the City always seemed a bit strange to her. 

“Still nothing? Still nothing,” Charles said, turning back to Lexi. “I’m sorry, hon. It’s hard to tell who’s who when you don’t know them yet, y’know? Especially if they don’t have anyone living to latch onto.” 

“Thanks anyway,” she sighed. “You know, I think I’ll come back and visit. I still haven’t seen all the tourist destinations, after all.” 

Charles laughed. “You, a tourist? Doubt it. If you do go see the Hall, or the Old City, you’ll be working there.” 

“Maybe,” she conceded. “Oh, that reminds me—here.” She tossed over her keys. “Hold onto those for me, will you?” 

“Will do.” 

She left shortly after that, with a brief nod to Amelia on her way out. The closer she got to the station, the more crowded the streets grew, until it was about as busy as it could get back in her neighborhood. She wondered how many of these people were new to the City; here to sightsee, or desperate to save a loved one or themselves? How many were locals, watching the newcomers stream out of the station with wonder in their eyes?

Three months ago, she had walked down the same steps she was now climbing with her half-dead husband in tow, praying the City would give them a second chance. Then she had felt out of place, a spot of discord in the system that was the City. Now, looking at the outsiders, they felt as alien to her as this city once did. 

The two of them heard a lot of stories, on their way to the City. Every station they stopped at brought a new passenger to sit across from them and relay a tale. At first, they were fantastical, utterly unbelievable. They heard stories about fountains of gold, and grand processions, and technology beyond anything the rest of the world had to offer. These stories were secondhand at best, and easily brushed off. Lexi saw the City as her final option, chosen in desperation, and nothing more. 

As they grew closer to the City, the stories changed. A traveling jeweler told them of her time in the City, of people like any others, different only in that they sometimes seemed to talk to the air and held knowledge they couldn’t have possibly learned themselves. She told them of corner stores and the best bars, of open-air markets and back-alley deals. She told them of underwhelming tourist destinations, and the few places that were really worth visiting. 

By the time they walked down the steps of the final station, the City was a place, not a legend. A real place, with real people, where Lexi could see herself living with her husband, even if he was nothing but a voice. 

He died not long after, as expected, and she waited for the day she would be able to hear his voice. 

But the day never came. 

One of the stories she heard, only a few stops away from the City, came from a teenage boy who grew up here. He told her that the natives heard the voices of ghosts because the City recognised them as one of their own. He said, you only hear the dead when you can call the City home. 

As she sat waiting for the train to come, listening for the sound of whistling steam, Lexi looked across the tracks at the city spread out on all sides. She didn’t frequent this part of town much, but the buildings were familiar enough. Each street fit neatly into her mental map, shortcuts noted in the back of her mind. It had been a while since she stayed in one place for so long. Would the next town she stayed in stick so firmly in her mind? 

She glanced at the nearby map. She’d take the train to the sea, then keep heading west by ship. After that, who knows? She always wanted to see the north, or maybe she’d head south and travel through the desert. There were a few cities along the way that she hadn’t had time to stop at on her way over. Now she had all the time in the world, so she’d see all there was to see. 

Still though, she thought as the distant sound of the train reached her ears, this city would be nice to come home to. 

Lexi? 

She stopped dead in her tracks. The train ticket was crumpled in her hand as her senses suddenly swept outward. Now, of all times, it finally clicked. The City of Souls, home of the living and dead, was her home as well. The voices of ghosts slipped around her in a constant stream, from the ground beneath her feet and the wall to her back. They were easy to ignore, just voices in a crowd, but one soul latched onto her and wouldn’t let go. 

“...Leon?” she murmured. 

Lexi! Thank goodness, I was really worried you’d leave—not that I’d blame you, really, but please don’t go? I’m glad I can talk to you, I was kinda drifting there for a while, being a ghost is super trippy. 

Lexi let out a long, low breath. She smoothed out the ticket and turned away from the tracks, walking steadily back down the steps. A boy was looking longingly at the train, counting coins. She dropped both tickets in his hands and kept walking. 

Lexi? 

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said, and she was. A wave of relief swept through her, and a little while ago it would have brought her to her knees. As it was she barely stumbled, and kept walking home. 

She’d missed him. The way he never stopped talking, got her to chatter back and forth with him for hours on end. How they could bounce ideas off of each other to solve any problem, how they loved each other enough to get married the instant they were legally able. How they ran off to travel the world together 

But now they were both stuck here. 

Well, if there was anything she was good at, it was making the most out of any situation. She swung by Charles’ bakery to pick up her keys, no explanation required. Then she was stepping through the door to her apartment and locking the door out of habit, dropping the bag on the ground and sitting in the one chair left against the wall. 

You’ve been working in some office place, right? A bank or something? Maybe we can spruce this place up, really make it a home. 

She only nodded, suddenly tired. Slowly, she unlaced her boots and shucked them off. As she unpacked her carefully organized bag she slowly perked up, getting right back into the groove of chatting with Leon, laughing over old photos and discussing ideas for the future. His optimism was infectious, and by the end of the day she really could imagine herself living out the rest of her days in this city with him.

Night fell, and Leon slipped off; apparently ghosts had a whole nightlife he’d gotten involved in. Lexi found herself standing still, looking down at her traveling boots. When would she wear them again? They were too old and worn to wear out in the city, too hardy to relegate to work boots. They were perfect for long treks across the world, when she had no idea where she’d end up next. 

She put them in the closet and closed the door. The City was her home now. 

Still, her mind lingered on those boots in the closet, now left to do nothing but gather dust.