So grey – everything is grey. Chanel looked around morosely, sighing. Perhaps it is just the room, in this dingy flat. Speaking to the closed door Chanel flicked her hair. “This is what my dream has become – a nightmare! It was going to be so perfect – an adventure, a career (well maybe just a job), new friends, an apartment of my own…” It had seemed like a good idea to rediscover the home of her ancestors and visit and work in Ireland. Right – Chanel – a great Gaelic name.
Standing up Chanel tweaked the thin blanket on her narrow bed. A threadbare carpet covered the floor. It wasn’t a small flat – a kitchen, dining room, living room, washroom but three others shared the flat. Strangers, all, more or less. Chantal, feeling awkward, secluded herself in her room.
She had started looking at shared space after determining that apartments were scarce and expensive. The space had been advertised at the local convenience store and Chanel had interviewed with all three tenants. The rent for a room in the flat was cheap. Just as well as no job opportunity had materialized and her savings were disappearing quickly. Her roommates all had jobs so now, in the mid-afternoon, the flat was deathly quiet.
Chanel decided that she had to get out. The flat opened onto a narrow, dark hallway. Pot lights in the ceiling were caked with years of dust dimming the illumination. The stairs to the street were steep so the cold handrail was a necessity.
It was dreary grey outside too. Rain drizzled. Water streamed down the road. Close to the buildings there was a little protection from the cold wind. Probably a coat would have been a good idea but an umbrella would have been useless with the wind. Chanel sighed. “Where should I go? I don’t need to shop. I don’t know anyone I can go and see.” Looking up the road she realized she was near the town’s old fortification. “What a good idea to climb up and get a view of the centre of town.” Chanel murmured. A passer-by looked at her strangely. “I always talk to myself.” Chanel said to his back as he hurried on.
Chanel marvelled again at the history in this small Irish town. Coming from North America she had no experience of centuries-old buildings. The walls of the fort were smooth, wet and cold to touch. Chanel started up the slippery stairs, worn down from the many shoes that had trod them year on year. The staircase was circular, opening up onto a flat roof. A low wall guarded the edges. No-one else had braved the roof. Chanel wandered over to look over the side. Heights made her anxious but in her current frame of mind the risk of slipping or falling seemed irrelevant. Gingerly she stepped onto the wall and sat down, dangling her feet over the edge. She felt very alone, isolated, on this high perch.
The rain had let up but there was no break in the clouds. A grey mist settled over the road below. There were shoppers, tourists, children, dogs – small, like pieces in a game. No one appeared to notice her. It seemed unreal. Maybe she really was invisible, like she had come to feel since she arrived here.
She spoke to the emptiness. “They said experiencing the home of your ancestors grounded you and gave you roots. What is wrong with me? My ancestors haven’t reached out to me from the past. Grounded! I have never felt so rootless and alone.”