Aria Remains

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During the quiet, sultry week that followed Robert’s murder, Aria’s thoughts turned to him many times, to the cruelty, the unfairness of the fate he met. If he hadn’t been invited for dinner at Ruby’s house that night, would his life have continued in such a way that he would not have needed to venture out for some unsatisfying, ready-made food the following night? If she had replied to his message the moment it arrived, or at least that same day, would that have meant things could have turned out differently?

She began to feel that she had formed a connection to him, even if its inception had been of the briefest, most delicate kind. She had found something and had experienced something she had not even realised she had been missing. It had been such a long time since she last felt that way, since she had allowed herself to realise the mystical and thrilling sensations of hope and exhilaration and craving. She contemplated the innumerable weavings of fate that had brought them together, and of the rarified air that had cocooned them that night, how it had contained something intangible, almost transcendental, and she understood that it had signified something far greater than the sum of its parts.

Of all the places he might have chosen to make his new home, the places he may have searched for employment, the friends he could have made, it was the particular set of circumstances and a million other tangled lines of destiny that had conspired to bring him to rest upon Ruby’s sofa, that had placed the same glint of ardour and desire in his eyes as that which had illuminated her own.

He had been there for a reason, even if that reason was not now something for him to own but was to bring Aria back to life again. She did not realise it yet, but the effect he had would be substantial.

We meet one another, she considered, sedentary beneath the winding sheet of lethargy at the foot of her bed, the week faltering to its end while a determined shaft of sunlight found ingress through the gap in her curtains, and however fleeting or unimportant it might seem at the time, it still it leaves its mark on us in some way. She knew she would always remember Robert, that he would be a part of her as her life moved forward in whichever direction it might. Regardless, he would be inside her somewhere, his death bringing him a kind of immortality.

The sadness she felt for his premature passing lay so deeply within her, she decided with a heavy heart, partly because it had forced her to consider the end of her own life. At some point she would have to say goodbye, to relinquish all that she loved, all she had gathered around her and valued so highly. Every thing, every action, every word would ultimately be useless, futile. Her work, her designs, the acquaintances she had made, the people so special to her; it would all, in the end, come to naught. Was that really the best we could hope for? she wondered. To be able to prepare for death rather than have it arrive suddenly and without warning, to be conscious of what was about to happen so as to be able to say goodbye to these people, to have the opportunity of reflection? After all she had already done, all she had experienced despite still being only twenty-five years old, surely being robbed of that final latitude would be the cruelest ending of all.

There had been no further developments regarding Robert’s terrible, unforeseen end, no advances made or conclusions drawn by investigators. It had been as though, they told Josh when he had telephoned them earlier in the week, that Robert had been assailed by a phantom, such was the dearth of evidence they had found. Viciously attacked by a person or persons unknown, apparently educated to a high level in the art of committing unspeakable crimes and then being careful to take all their DNA away with them as they made their spineless escape.

Eventually succumbing to Ruby’s requests, weary from mournfulness and from being trapped inside the stockade of her own mind, Aria had agreed to accompany her for a couple of drinks in the town centre. Ruby, too, had found the event more troubling than she had expected and had fallen into a similar disquiet, but was determined to break free from it and to do all she could to assist Aria escape its domineering possession. It was time for them to live their lives, she had told her. Eventually Aria relented, finding her own truth, the truth she needed, in Ruby’s postulation that they, like Robert, may have no warning that their own time was to be abridged and that, in his honour, they should make of their lives as much as they could, that it was an obligation they must fulfil.

‘Do you want to eat, or shall we just get straight into the wine?’ Ruby asked as they slid from their taxi.

Aria considered the option, but only briefly.

‘Wine,’ she said, smiling unconvincingly.

They had both made more of an effort with their hair, make up and clothes than they would usually bother to, and as a consequence they both looked very glamorous and beautiful. Before they had even entered the bar a young man with an extremely short haircut and conversely lengthy ambition approached them and asked if they would like him to buy them a drink.

‘Sorry,’ Ruby said, taking hold of Aria’s hand, slightly lowering her head and resting it on her shoulder. ‘You’re just not our type.’ It was their usual avoidance tactic and, as Aria nodded politely to another man as he held the heavy glass doors open for them, she wondered how many drinks it might take before they needed to employ Plan B. The tribade kiss.

The bar was very busy and very loud, filled with people dressed in their pastel summer shirts and light, floral dresses. Not upmarket, but a little more classy than the kind of places they usually preferred, they had decided to come to this particular hostelry as something of an indulgence. They had resolved to dress up, to look as good as they could so they would feel as good as they were able. At Ruby’s insistent and numerous suggestions, Aria finally agreed to wear the transpicuous black dress, while Ruby had squeezed herself into one of shiny light purple, so tight that Aria asked more than once if she were able to breathe. Her hair was a silken array of spiral curls, Ruby’s natural weave long and full-bodied. If they had been at all interested in scrutinising the clientele they would have found themselves to be the most arresting women in the place but, since such shallow reasonings did not matter, nor ever occur to them, it was not something they even considered.

‘What’ll it be?’ the cheerful bartender asked, a roguish man in his mid-thirties who had apparently recently forsaken his razor yet had still showered in aftershave.

‘Sauvignon?’ Ruby asked and, when Aria nodded her agreement, biting her lower lip as she was prone to do when nervous or thoughtful, she repeated it more firmly to the man behind the bar, adding, ‘Large ones.’

‘Coming up,’ he said, already holding a pair of glasses.

The music that blared across the large room was at such a volume that everyone needed to talk more loudly than usual conversation should require. Neither Aria nor Ruby liked the songs, the repetitive, electronic thuds, the banal lyrics so, once they received their wine, they pushed through the room and decamped to the garden beyond. There were several wooden tables and benches arranged on its patio, with tall brick walls all around and a number of potted plants that looked in dire need of nourishment. It was less busy and they were able to find an unoccupied table, just far enough from the sound of the music and just within the warm reach of the sun before it would eventually be impeded by the trees to their right.

‘Well, this is nice,’ Ruby said, sipping from her glass and looking around the garden.

‘It is,’ Aria replied, doing the same.

The majority of the people around them were couples, enjoying the August sun, putting another week of work behind them. At the far end of the space a group of younger men, probably no older then nineteen or twenty, were engaged in a competition to see who could finish their pint of lager with the most alacrity, cheering loudly when the last of them was done.

‘Oh, to be young again,’ Ruby mused with a smile. ‘How wild we were.’

She tossed her hair back with exaggerated drama. Aria nodded, smiling slightly at the notion since they hadn’t been particularly ‘wild’ at all, then looked into her glass again.

‘What did you say Josh was doing tonight?’ she asked, when she became aware Ruby was watching her with concern and felt that she should contribute something to the conversation, despite not yet feeling entirely congenial.

‘He’s been trying to write a book,’ Ruby said.

Aria was surprised.

‘I didn’t know he could write.’

She had never known him to have any interest in literature, once even asking her what she was doing as she sat with a novel open in front of her. ‘I’m reading,’ she had said, trying not to sound sarcastic. ‘Why?’ he’d asked.

’Well, I don’t know that you could say he can write,’ Ruby said, smiling, ’but he just got the idea in his head a month or two ago, read a few books by Dickens and Chekhov and decided he had something worth saying about the world. I’ve been leaving him to it, to be honest. I love him dearly, but I think it’ll probably turn out to be as successful as if I watched ‘Match of the Day’ a couple of times and then went for a trial with Manchester United.’

She laughed and, with gratification and reassurance, saw that Aria was laughing, too. Indeed, such was the relief and release it brought them, the laughter grew and brought them such a feeling of liberation it even caused those contestants in the lager-drinking competition to turn and look in their direction.

The lightness felt good, refreshing. Despite a wave of guilt briefly washing through her, Aria breathed in the deliverance as if gasping air after having been trapped beneath the surface of a frozen lake. As they drank their second glasses, becoming unbound from the preceding caliginous days, catching sight of their old selves emerging through the haze, and chatted about Aria’s designs and Ruby’s work as receptionist in the local hospital, all thoughts of Robert left their minds as shade departs a forgotten room at the opening of its curtain.

‘And, in the end, I had to tell him to soak it in water for a while and to make sure he kept it away from the vacuum cleaner from now on. I don’t think the Nurse Practitioner had either the time or the inclination to see him, to be honest.’

As Aria laughed again there fell across their table the shadow of two men, waiting to be seen, queued with ambition for evaluation. These two were older, in their late-twenties perhaps, and both were handsome and tanned. They were not, they hoped would be immediately perceptible, the types to trawl bars in search of women to ensnare in their nets of loveless anti-romance. They had been watching Aria and Ruby from their table at the other end of the patio for a long period, nervously trying to hearten their valour, discussing how best to approach the two beauties who were, most likely, out of their league, beyond their reach, without appearing that they had set a course for nothing more than cheap promises and nugatory subjugation.

The women studied them as they hovered, then Ruby looked to Aria to gauge her opinion.

‘Are you two alone?’ the one in the blue shirt asked, a slim, dark haired man who, Aria noted with some interest, bore callouses at the tips of the fingers of his left hand, suggesting at least a passing acquaintance with a guitar or a violin, or some other stringed instrument.

‘No, I’m with her,’ Aria replied, nodding towards Ruby.

’With her?’

Aria looked him up and down, glanced at Ruby and then, flushed with the return of lightness to her spirit, buttressed by the wine, said, ‘Well, we’re always open to new adventures.’

Ruby stifled a giggle as the men smiled at each other and then, not requiring any further invitation, joined them on the bench, blue shirt sliding next to Aria and telling her his name was Sam while the other, the one in the white shirt who was even more tanned than his companion and had the sun-bleached look of a Californian surfer, sat next to Ruby.

‘I’m Joe,’ he said. ‘Would you like another drink?’

‘Yes, that would be very pleasant, thank you,’ Ruby replied. ‘I’ll have a brandy, please.’

Aria looked at her quickly. There was a devilish expression on Ruby’s face.

‘Can I get you something, too? Brandy?’ asked Sam.

‘Why not? Thank you,’ Aria said, still half-watching her friend’s mischievous expression.

As the two men walked away, talking quietly to one another, Ruby leant across the table.

‘Interested?’ she asked conspiratorially.

‘I can’t believe we’re having brandy. We’re going to regret it, you know that, don’t you?’

‘You’re only young once or twice,’ Ruby replied with a laugh. ‘So, interested?’

Aria turned to look behind her, seeing the men disappear into the darkened crowd inside the bar. She bit her lip, trying to decide for herself before discussing it with her friend.

‘They are very nice looking,’ she said as she turned back. ‘Do you think it would be disrespectful? To Robert, I mean.’

Ruby gave it some serious thought, then said, ‘We came out to have a bit of fun, and even though it was an awful, awful thing that happened, and he did seem like a lovely guy, it’s not as though you were going to marry him or anything. I don’t want to sound mean but we’ve done our week of mourning, we’ve been through the shock and the bargaining. Maybe it’s time we moved on to acceptance, you know? Maybe it’s time for the living.’

Aria chewed the inside of her mouth, then finished her wine.

‘What’s the worst thing that could happen?’ she asked, shrugging slightly, her contrition now somewhat subdued by the grape. ‘A little bit of harmless flirting never hurt anybody.’

After two glasses of brandy, Aria and Ruby accepted the men’s invitation to move on to a nightclub. Sam and Joe were friendly and upbeat, with no hint of anything lecherous or unpleasant about them. They just seemed to be two nice guys, wanting to share a few drinks with a couple of nice girls. Despite rarely going to clubs, intolerant of the music and the patrons they had experienced during their rare incursions of the past, the wine and brandy was urging them on, assuring them that they would have fun, that it would be an adventure. Ruby sent Josh a message as they walked through the town centre, telling him they would be late so not to wait up for her.

‘No problem,’ he wrote in reply. ‘Have a good time.’

‘I do love him,’ Ruby whispered into Aria’s ear as they turned towards the club. ‘I hope you’ll buy his book.’

‘Of course,’ Aria told her, holding her arm, now regretting her decision to wear heels, finding them cumbersome without the added coercion of alcohol. ‘As long as he signs it.’

The nightclub was dark and cavernous, with a large and full dance floor lit by vigorously flashing lights, various levels of seating and tables scattered around its edges. The music was louder but no more sophisticated than it had been at the bar, but the four managed to secure themselves a booth upstairs, where it was slightly quieter, even darker and far less busy. A fraudulent candle moulded from frosted plastic sat at the centre of the small table, providing no more light than a struck match.

‘I’m not a fan of this kind of thing,’ Sam told Aria, his face close to hers. ‘Or nightclubs in general, really.’

‘So why did you want to come?’ Aria asked.

‘To spend a bit more time with you. Why did you want to come?’

Aria looked down, hooking long, errant strands of hair behind her ear.

‘I suppose I wanted to spend a bit more time with you, too,’ she admitted, thankful for the tenebrosity that concealed her reddening cheeks.

Ruby and Joe sat opposite them. Their conversation was more formal; she had told him about Josh and he had replied that he would have been surprised had she not been attached.

‘I just think you’re nice,’ he said, and it sounded as though he actually meant it. ‘It’s a little-known fact, and don’t share it with anybody you don’t trust completely, but…’ He paused, looking around conspiratorially. ’Men and women can just be friends without suddenly collapsing and bursting into flames.’

Ruby raised her glass - another brandy - and toasted him with a laugh.

‘Then, here’s to friends who don’t spontaneously combust,’ she said,

’Here’s to ‘em’, Joe agreed.

Smiling across at them, Aria then turned her wrist to check the time, her watch lighting up and flashing its glow into her face.

‘It’s getting late,’ she said, surprised at how quickly the hours had passed. She was beginning to feel tired and had already stifled a yawn. Sam nodded and suggested they share a taxi together. She bit her lip, then leaned over to Ruby.

‘Want to share a cab back?’ she asked.

‘I think I’ll stay, if that’s cool with you. Not feeling tired yet, and it’s not often I’m let off the leash. But only if you don’t mind.’

‘No, that’s fine,’ Aria told her, waving her hand in a moderately uncontrolled manner. ‘I’m just tired, and Sam will see me home.’

As she stood and waited for him to slide out of the booth so she, too, could squeeze between the thickly padded seats and the table, Ruby asked her to text when she was home, just so she knew she was safe.

‘And you do the same,’ Joe instructed Sam. The men laughed and shook hands, Sam saying goodbye to Ruby as they went.

The cool air greeted Aria with a blanketing embrace as they left the building, and it was only then she realised how hot she had been inside the club. It was situated only a few hundred yards from the town’s railway station and as they walked towards it, crossing the small, arching bridge that allowed a shallow river to pass beneath, they could see several taxi cabs parked by the station’s main entrance.

‘It’s been fun,’ Sam said as they crossed the brow of the bridge.

‘It has,’ Aria said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Maybe… Maybe you’d like to do it again?’

‘Yes,’ Aria replied, looking at him with a smile. ‘Maybe I would.’

She paused and leant against the rough stone wall of the bridge, looking down at the dark water. It moved steadily against the angled brickwork on either side of the channel, heading out to the docks on the other side, on its way to the ocean a few miles further on. She wondered if it had completed a circle, travelling across the globe and returning to this point, ready to begin its journey once more. She knew that wasn’t the way it worked, but as the wine and brandy swam through her system she wanted to believe that it was true, that she was like the water and would journey everywhere, would see fishermen on the banks of the Nile and wave to the middle-aged women who liked to soak their feet at the shores of the Karachay Lake, unconcerned by the pollution since the rusting waters eased their callouses, always certain that she would return here once more. She would catch the sun as it set, would reflect the shine of the moon and be kissed by the stars.

For the first time she could remember she wanted more, much more than she was likely to receive. A small ache began to dig into her chest, a memory of something she was yet to experience, a life she perceived was close to her, a part of her, but had not yet started to live. It was out there, just waiting for her, almost within her reach. She was certain of it, felt its inevitability as clearly as she felt the stone wall she rested against.

As she sat in the back of the taxi she allowed Sam to take hold of her hand. It was a short journey and, although there wasn’t time to talk very much, she was unable to find any words she wanted to express. Their driver was particularly voluble, asking if they’d had a nice time, where they’d been and whether the town centre had been busy, so they wouldn’t have been able to say very much, anyway. They needed to ask him to repeat himself more than once, so thick was his accent and with such haste did his words arrive, but Aria didn’t mind. She had already revealed enough of herself for one night.

Soon the car pulled up outside her house and Sam leaned across to give her a kiss. She pursed her lips as though about to peck the withered cheek of an elderly aunt, quickly touched them to his and then opened the car door.

’So, can I give you a ring?’ he asked, as she turned and slid out of the cab, dropping her shoes onto the pavement.

‘If my friend gave your friend her number, then you can ask him to get it from her.’

She frowned for a moment, wondering if she had made any sense at all, then smiled and closed the door. Sam watched her through the window and a bemused expression.

As she stood outside her house, fumbling in her bag for the keys, she asked herself if her instruction had been a little too obtuse but then shrugged, unsure whether it would be a good or bad thing if Sam did manage to obtain her number. She slipped the key into the lock at her second attempt, tripping on the step as she opened the door.