‘The bird thinks they’re having a chat,’ she says easily, picking up her phone to check her emails again.
‘Well I don’t know what the bird thinks. I only understand humans.’ And not so heavily disguised in that statement is the accusation that she doesn’t understand humans.
‘Fine, Solomon, she’s not having a conversation with the bird.’ Bo laughs. ‘You tell me what’s going on. You seem to have so much more understanding of her than I do.’
She’s not being sarcastic, or cynical, there’s no judgement in her tone.
‘Okay, we’re going to have a “conversation” like the one they’re having now. Right now. Starting now.’
‘You want me to whistle?’ she giggles.
‘You want me to whistle?’ he repeats and giggles too, as much like her as he can.
She laughs.
He imitates her.
‘Maybe I should chirp.’
‘Maybe I should chirp.’
Her smile starts to fade. ‘Okay, Sol, I get the idea.’
‘Okay, Sol, I get the idea.’
‘She’s not having a conversation with the bird.’
‘She’s not having a conversation with the bird.’
‘She’s mimicking the bird.’
‘She’s mimicking the bird.’
She stops talking altogether.
Outside on the balcony, though neither of them can see her, Laura smiles into her mug of tea.
Solomon stares at Bo, waiting for her to speak again, feeling like a child deliberately annoying his brothers.
‘My girlfriend Bo,’ she begins slowly, thoughtfully, ‘Is the hottest producer in the world.’
He repeats it, moving his chair closer to hers, drawing her closer, eyeball to eyeball. ‘With the hottest tits.’
She laughs. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
Happy, fun. Them at their best. And then Bo ruins it.
‘I’m going to marry my girlfriend, Bo.’
He pauses. Stares at her, pulls away a little from her face to see her properly, to get the whole picture, to see if she’s joking. Her smile is gone, as is his. The tension between them is heavy. Why did she have to say that? Ruin what was a good moment, make it so intense?
‘Is that what you want?’ he asks.
She studies his face, it’s obviously not what he wants, he couldn’t even say it, not even as part of a dumb game. It’s actually not something she wanted. It wasn’t theobjective of this relationship. It had been once, with Jack, but she was younger and liked a project, and that man was a project. The ironic thing is she probably could have walked down the aisle quicker with Jack than she ever could with Solomon. It’s upsetting, not because she especially wanted it, but because it’s clear that he doesn’t. She’s not sure if being with someone who doesn’t want to marry her is an insult even if it’s not what she wants. Double standards. She has a few more of them.
She can hear Solomon’s argument without him saying a word, merely looking at her in a panic, skin shiny as though he’s broken out in a nervous sweat. She can hear his argument loud and clear; in fact, she is using it against herself, but she’d said the sentence for him to repeat nonetheless, to test him, which was unfair really.
‘Now, that’s a conversation,’ she says, standing up. ‘You should go, you’ll be late for work.’
On the balcony, Laura exhales slowly, overhearing the tail end of their conversation.
The bird in the cage on the balcony next to her chirps noisily, rattling around his cage, leaping from a swing to the floor, pecking at his food, pecking at the bars. A little boy sits on the balcony beside it, crashing red cars into each other, making sound effects of the cars and the crashes. Laura mimics his childish sounds.
The past two mornings she has enjoyed sitting on this balcony and thinking. At least she has all the noise with fresh air. It makes it easier to handle, it seems to blow the headache away.
Bo joins her on the balcony. Laura gives her a quick glance. Everything about Bo is precise, neat, tidy, perfect. Not a wrinkle or crinkle on her clothes, her skin is smooth and flawless, her eyes a chocolate brown, her olive skin blemish-free. Her short chestnut hair is always tied up in a high ponytail, though there’s barely enough hair to form it, two front pieces of hair fall down and are tucked behind her ears. Her hair is always glossy. When she smiles and forms certain words, two deep dimples appear in her cheeks. She wears tightly cropped jeans and loafers, a polo T-shirt with the neck pulled up. The fabrics look expensive, everything is well made. A pearl necklace sits on her collarbone. She looks like she should be in a photoshoot for a yachting magazine. She never seems to fumble, be flustered or out of control. She always seems to Laura to know exactly where she’s going. She feels to Laura to be the exact opposite of her.
‘Making friends out here?’ Bo asks.