Keys Open Doors
A mysterious package; a chance meeting.
You receive a package with no sender address. Inside, you find a single, exquisitely crafted key and a note that simply reads: "This unlocks what you truly seek." What do you truly seek, and where does the key lead you?
She was gone for a week, and it showed.
But it shouldn’t have. She lived with two other girls and they could have brought in the mail, done the dishes and cleaned the bathrooms.
But they didn’t.
Exhausted after a long drive back from a solo camping trip, and frustrated at her roommates’ laziness, Erin dropped her damp, dirty backpack on the floor of her bedroom and got to work.
She grabbed a week’s worth of mail from the mailbox and dropped it on the dining room table without even looking at it. She went to the hall closet and grabbed the toilet cleaner and some gloves. Already aching and filthy from her camping trip, she knelt before the toilet bowl and scrubbed. And scrubbed, and scrubbed until the porcelain sparkled. She wiped the mirror and counter. She removed all her clothes, and tossed them into the over-full hamper. She climbed into the shower and scrubbed there too, finally cleaning herself as well.
As the hot water removed the caked-on dirt from he tired body, Erin thought about her week away. The aftermath of a messy breakup with her long-time boyfriend Matt left her utterly defeated and despondent. She’d talked about it with her roommates Jess and Alana, but it didn’t make her feel any better. In the following days, she got nothing but pity texts from friends and acquaintances.
She couldn’t take it anymore, everyone looking at her with sad eyes as though saying, “Oh honey, we’re so sorry.”
She was sad, but she wasn’t sorry. Matt had gradually become a dick over the past few months, as he slowly pulling away from her. He withheld even the simplest kindness. He hardened his heart against her.
Because he was a cheating, narcissistic prick, it turned out.
So she packed some clothes, her sleeping bag and tent, a camp stove and some freeze-dried meals, and her e-reader. Erin drove west four hours until she saw mountains. She rented a campsite and made it her home for a week. Although it rained almost the whole time, she was able to relax and unwind. She read a half-dozen books, wrote in a journal, and came to the realization that Matt could go fuck himself.
Knock, knock, knock, she heard at the door. “Erin, are you gonna be much longer? I really have to shit!” she heard her roommate Alana say through the door.
“Give me two minutes, Al!” she responded over the sound of rushing water.
She rinsed, toweled off and thought to herself that a three-bedroom house with a single shower was not enough for three women.
She wrapped her hair in one towel, her body another. As she opened the door, Al blew past her.
“Sorry, I can’t hold it any longer!”
“It’s fine,” Erin muttered, closing the door as Al ruined the cleaning job Erin had just completed. It made her think of Matt. He was messy, and it was always Erin’s job to clean up after him.
Erin made her way to the kitchen, where she could hear some activity. Jess was there, doing the dishes.
“I’m really sorry, Er. We’d meant to clean everything up before you got home,” Jess said over her shoulder, her hands immersed in soapy water.
“It’s OK, Jess,” Erin lied, grateful that her friend at least acknowledged her part in creating the squalor Erin came home to. Erin wrapped her arms around Jess and squeezed her friend. “I’m glad to be home.”
Jess leaned her head back against Erin to return the hug.
“I’m gonna go for a walk and grab a coffee,” Erin said, leaving the kitchen to put on a t-shirt and jeans.
“Hey, before you go, I saw that there’s a small package for you on the dining room table,” Jess called back, rinsing one last dish, and pulling the sink’s plug. Jess wiped her hands on a towel, crossed the threshold into the dining room, and grabbed the package.
Jess handed Erin the small box when she came out of her bedroom and into the dining room.
“No return address or anything. Did you get something from Amazon? Ooh, or maybe it’s an ‘I’m sorry for being such a dick’ gift from Matt” Jess suggested.
Erin scoffed at the thought as she opened it. Matt hadn’t given her a gift in almost five years, not since they first started dating. He wouldn’t dream of doing something so contrite.
Packing peanuts fell to the ground and as dug her fingers into them. She felt a small piece of metal. She pulled out a key. It was unlike any key she’d seen before. Ornate, silver, and heavy for its size. It looked like something from a hundred years ago.
A small tag was attached to the head of the key with a piece of burlap string. In hand-written block letters, it said, “This unlocks what you truly seek.”
Erin felt weird. Was this a prank?
She stared at the tag as Jess hovered over her shoulder.
“Oh dang, I thought it would be make-up or something. Oh well,” she said and wandered back into the kitchen.
Erin pocketed the key and grabbed her purse.
“OK, I’m heading out!” she called back to the house as she walked out the front door and closed it behind her.
The air outside was heavy with morning rain. The sun peeked out of the clouds, gradually breaking and giving way to blue sky. Erin took a deep breath and stepped onto the sidewalk, in the direction of her favourite café.
It was a Saturday afternoon, but few people were out and about. Only a couple of joggers and dog-walkers. Normally joggers and dogs would make her think of Matt—he had a golden retriever named Casey, and the three of them would often go for runs together—but she her thoughts had shifted to the key in her pocket. Who could have sent it to her? And what did it open?
Erin found herself walking through the door of the café, the familiar bustle rousing her from her reverie. She stood in line, glancing at the menu. She would get her usual vanilla latté. She was digging through her purse for her phone when an unfamiliar voice said, “Oh hey!”
She looked up at a handsome brown man with thick, dark, wavy hair, bright hazel eyes, and a five-o’clock shadow standing at the till. He was tall, at least a foot taller than Erin. His nametag said “Ahmed.” She could see the graphic of a band t-shirt peeking out from behind his black apron.
“Uh, hi,” Erin responded uncertainly as she gazed into his bright green eyes.
“You’re Erin, right? We were in that French New Wave film class together with Dr Alexander,” he said, beaming at Erin.
“Oh right!” Erin lied, charmed by Ahmed’s breezy disposition. “I LOVED Breathless,” she recalled the movie in which Michel’s partner Patricia turns Michel into the police, resulting in his death. She pictured Matt as Michel and giggled to herself.
Ahmed smiled at and asked her for her order.
Erin sat at a table for two and pulled the key out of her pocket. She ran her finger along its handle and teeth imagining what it might open. She gazed through the seat in front of her as she absent-mindedly played with the key, pinching the string and touching the tag with the mysterious message on it.
“Here’s your vanilla latté,” Ahmed said, depositing the drink in front of her. “And I thought you’d want to try this almond croissant. Call it an homage to French New Wave cinema,” he grinned.
“Oh thanks,” Erin replied, looking up at Ahmed.
“Listen, I’m off in a few minutes. Would you like some company?” he asked.
“Oh,” she hesitated, gripping the key reflexively in her hand. “Uh, sure. Yeah, why not?”
“Don’t sound too excited,” Ahmed smiled. “I’ll be right back.”
Erin nodded at no one in particular, as Ahmed went behind the counter and through a door to the back. She sipped her coffee gingerly, as the cool foam gave way to hot liquid. Still too hot to drink.
She put the key on the table and pushed it with her finger. She remembered Ahmed from her class now. He sat a few rows in front of her, and would often crack jokes with the professor. She recalled now that every time he did, he’d look back at her with a wry smile. How had she not noticed him before? He was one of the most attractive men she’d ever met. Not just handsome—he comported himself with an effortless confidence. Not full of himself, just sure of himself.
Huh, she thought, looking down at the key again.
A few minutes passed, and Ahmed sat down in the chair across from her, putting down his own coffee—drip, taken black, he told her—and frowned at the uneaten croissant.
“You don’t like almonds or something?” He asked her.
“Oh no, that’s not it. I was waiting for you,” she smiled warmly at him.
“Ah, well, but these are amazing. Enough waiting,” he said as broke off two pieces of croissant and popped one in his mouth.
He closed his eyes as he chewed, the edges of his mouth curling into a smile.
“Mmmmm,” he moaned. “The French can do amazing things with a shit-ton of butter.”
Erin laughed as she tasted her croissant. A buttery burst of almond exploded as she bit into it. He wasn’t wrong. This might be the best croissant she’d ever tasted.
Ahmed looked down at the table, at the key Erin was poking at with her finger.
“‘This unlocks what you truly seek,’” reading the tag to himself. He frowned again in puzzlement. “What does that mean?”
“I’m not really sure,” Erin said, looking up directly into Ahmed’s eyes.
She smiled and added, “But I think I’m figuring it out.”