Richard House - The Kills

‘Why?’

‘I’m just asking. I’m making conversation.’

‘He can be funny. He notices things. He has a good eye. He’s sympathetic. He isn’t like most men, he doesn’t have an instant opinion on everything.’

‘So he isn’t shy?’

‘Not especially, after three lessons he seems very confident. And he talks with his neighbours.’

Isa nods. ‘But he’s been here for a month already so maybe he feels they are familiar.’

‘Are you going to tell me he’s crazy and that I shouldn’t be alone with him?’

‘No. I don’t understand really why he’s here? You said he works for the UN?’

Now Rike has doubts. ‘He said he isn’t sure he wants to do this kind of work now.’

‘Maybe it isn’t stress per se, maybe it’s anxiety, and maybe he wants to work on this. People tend to develop coping mechanisms for anxiety. With stress people shut down. Perhaps this is why he’s having lessons, so that for at least part of the day he’s forced to socialize.’ Isa looks out across the road, caught on a thought.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You’re frowning. Why?’

‘It’s nothing.’

‘But nothing about what?’

‘Seriously, nothing. I’m just wondering how you got him to talk so much?’

‘It’s a language lesson. You talk. ’

‘But yesterday I asked about the lesson and how he was and you knew nothing. Today you know everything. Why is he talking so much about this? In one day?’

‘I asked him why he was learning English and it all came out.’ Rike is suddenly upset. Frustrated, she leans forward and covers her face. She shakes her head, a little surprised at her reaction. ‘I don’t know why it’s so complicated. I don’t understand why anyone would learn a language they are already fluent in, and I don’t understand why they would stay only in one room. And I feel stupid because I should know what to do.’ Rike wipes her eyes and sits back in her chair. ‘That’s it,’ she says, sweeping her hands out. ‘I will never make a good teacher.’

‘I don’t understand why you’re upset. It sounds like you’re helping him. It’s not going to help if you’re getting upset.’

‘Because it shouldn’t be so difficult. It should be easy. And straight-forward. And simple.’

‘But you’re the best person he could be working with.’ Isa says this as an inarguable fact. ‘I’m serious. He needs to talk with someone he can trust. You did a good thing challenging him today. Now he has to consider the next step. Isn’t this more interesting than a boring language lesson? Anyway.’ Isa pushes forward her glass. ‘You can probably really help him. You know what’s good for anxiety? Sex.’

Isa laughs and Rike laughs with her.

‘I gave him an assignment. He said he would go out if I gave him a reason.’

‘I’m serious. Tell him you’re going to teach him something French. You both need it. See. You can help each other.’

Rike draws her hands in a line and closes the subject. She asks Isa if she is going to eat.

‘I was sick this morning. Twice. I told you this? Then yoghurt, then I ate those oranges. So now I have an acid stomach.’

In front of the café runs a low and cropped hibiscus bush behind which a photographer poses a young couple. The woman straddles a parked motorbike, the man stands beside her with an idiot grin, like a man who can’t believe his luck. The photographer arranges the woman’s hair over her shoulder. The pictures are for an album that will show how and where the couple met, a picture book of recreated memories.

Isa scowls at the couple. ‘She’s so out of his league. Look at that hair.’

* * *

They return to the apartment by taxi. Isa sober, Rike a little woozy on beer. Rike drops her purse getting out of the cab, then her keys in the lobby and laughs as she tries to pick them up.

‘Are you expecting a delivery or something?’

Isa says no and asks her to hurry.

‘There’s something in the hallway.’ Rike finds the key and manages to open the door with Isa giggling beside her telling her to hurry. ‘It’s Henning.’

Isa rushes through as soon as the door is open. ‘Henning? Henning!’ She hurries to the front room in quick short steps. ‘Oh, oh, oh. Rike, go see where he is.’ Then slips into the bathroom without closing the door.

Rike comes slowly into the apartment, feeling happy — because she likes Henning, and because her sister has missed her husband so much — but also a little excluded, because this is not her reunion, and her time with her sister is now effectively over.

‘Where is he?’ Isa calls from the bathroom. ‘Henning?’

Rike walks through the apartment but can’t find him. His bags are in the hallway, but the man is not in the apartment. And now, confusingly, she feels disappointed at having to explain this to Isa. On the table, in a large vase, stands a bouquet of roses. Small pink heads. The colour and the quantity are extravagant. The pink buzzes against the white walls.

The situation resolves quickly. As Isa comes out of the bathroom, adjusting her clothes, Henning comes to the front door, a shopping bag in one hand, hooked on one finger. Isa is upon him before he can close the door. Arms up then locked about his neck.

Henning stoops to receive his wife’s embrace. They rock together, eyes, at first, closed. And then, because this is looking to become drawn out, he opens his eyes, sees Rike and offers her the shopping bag — the same finger that is holding the bag wiggles to call her forward. As Rike takes the bag Henning gives her a smile, a wink, then wraps both arms about his wife.

Rike doesn’t know what to do with herself. It’s awkward, the two of them in the hallway holding tight, so she walks into the garden and startles the black cat. While she dearly loves her brother-in-law, his return, unannounced, points out that she has no one who will return to her.

If Henning is here, then so is the man from the desert. Mr Crispy. Sutler Number Three.

The cat scampers then freezes at the wall, mid-stride, ready to disappear. Rike holds herself still, and the woman and cat eye each other, the cat won’t look her in the eyes, and then suddenly, after a moment shoots up the wall, its tail flicks as it disappears.

4.4

Gibson waits in the lobby of Laura’s hotel on via Miano, opposite the Parco di Capodimonte. The walk has left him hot, and he is sweating through his shirt. While it is a bright day, the sun holds little heat.

Instead of Laura another woman comes down the stairs, and explains, with an apology, that Laura is sleeping. She introduces herself as Sarah. ‘I know everything,’ she says. ‘I can answer any questions you might have.’ Gibson doesn’t catch if she is a friend or someone from the family. She asks if Gibson would prefer to walk or find somewhere else to go. Gibson looks about the lobby. He has no idea where they should go. Hasn’t considered the mechanics of the day in any way.

Sarah walks ahead to the door, then pauses. The papers Gibson asked for, she’s left them in the room.

‘The day he left,’ she explains, ‘Laura moved hotels. They agreed to stay near the park.’ She points to the city to their right. ‘There’s an observatory. He liked the view. You can see the Albergo di Poveri, the Duomo, Vesuvius. Capri, I think. When she arrived he brought her here. Made the taxi drive by and wait.’ Sarah steers Gibson across the road. ‘The park,’ she says.