‘Okay no problem,’ he says easily, warmth flooding through him.
He lifts the bags from the boot, and closes it more carefully than he had with the doors. The exit door opens, a heavy fire door that slams and reverberates through the space. High heels walk across the concrete, the car beside them lights up and beeps. Laura mimics it, stepping away from the car. The woman looks at her as she climbs into her car, a scowl on her face, as though Laura’s sound has insulted her. She starts up the engine and Solomon moves Laura away quickly.
‘Okay. Let’s get you inside,’ he says, lifting the bags and leading her to the exit.
Bo is standing at the front door of the apartment. Solomon and Laura should be arriving soon. She feels nervous and she’s not sure why. That’s a lie. She’s pretty sure why, but she’s trying to pretend that Solomon and Laura being together alone for two days without her is not a cause for concern. She wants to be the kind of girlfriend who doesn’t worry about things like that. Jealousy is a killer, a destroyer. She was never a jealous person – not in relationships, she never felt threatened that way. Work is another matter; if someone makes a better documentary, if someone is doing better than her, she’ll admit she feels the jealousy then. She uses that feeling to drive her to do better. But she’s not sure what this feeling can do for a relationship. She doesn’t know how to be better than Laura, nor does she want to be.
And she isn’t feeling this way because of what Jack said to her last night. It wasn’t him that triggered alarm bells about her and Solomon, planting seeds of doubt, whispers in her ear and then disappearing into the night. The feeling was already inside her. Laura has insisted on being with Solomon at every single turn. What girlfriend would allow it to happen? Not just allow it, encourage it. She’s pushing Solomon towards Laura. And that’s what has brought on this anxiety, this twisted feeling in her stomach: the fact that she knows that she’s letting it happen. She’s pretending she’s not, because to admit otherwise would be callous, weird, unfeeling. She’s seeing what’s between them right in front of her and she’s encouraging it, for the sake of her documentary. There. She’s admitted it.
The lift moves into action, ascends to her floor. They won’t be expecting her to be ready for them, at the door. She wants to see their faces, not the ones they prepare before walking into the apartment. She’ll know if something’s happened by looking at them. The doors open. Her stomach twists, cramps. Solomon steps out. He’s alone. He gives her a wide warning look with his eyes, then turns back towards the lift.
‘Come on, Laura, we’re here.’
Bo moves to the left and peers in. Laura is huddled in the corner of the lift with her hands over her ears. She rises, one of her bags in her hand, looking as timid as a mouse. The knot in Bo’s stomach clears immediately. She’s ashamed by her relief, she’s ashamed by the pleasure that seeing Laura in this state brings to her.
‘She doesn’t like lifts,’ Solomon says, a little nervously.
‘Hi, Laura,’ she says gently. ‘Welcome.’
Laura’s thanks is barely a whisper as she steps into the flat.
‘How was your trip?’ she asks tentatively, as Laura looks around.
Solomon shakes his head for her not to ask, but it’s too late.
Laura opens her mouth and a flow of sounds surges out, merged and meshed together, one running into another, like a badly mixed song.
Bo’s eyes widen, not quite sure how to deal with the cacophony of noise. It’s negative noise, something happened, something that has upset her. Stunned, she watches as Solomon leads Laura to the small spare room, as though she’s a fragile broken bird. And all the while Bo tries to decipher one sound from another but can’t. Did she hear a gunshot?
Solomon, however, understands them all, he identifies each and every single one of them as she repeats them over and over, an insight into her confused mind, her hurt heart. Mossie’s whimpers. An angry Joe. The fallen hare, the gunshot, a door banging, high heels on concrete, the beep of a car alarm, the sound of the exit door, the whoosh of the lift when he pressed the button. A police siren.
And in there, hidden amongst them, was the sound of Bo making love to Solomon.
Telltale sounds. A medley of all the sounds Laura doesn’t like.