Page 5 of Because of Her

“Don’t make it obvious,” I hiss. “Go make coffee or something so it looks like we’re just two women enjoying the midday sun.”

She laughs at me but walks over to the kitchen and flicks the machine on. While she grabs our favourite mugs from the drying rack next to the sink, I lean over the rusted railing a fraction to see if I can spot the new resident of apartment thirty-two.

The unit across from ours has been empty for more than a few months. We suspect the owners were trying to charge too much rent, because despite hundreds of people walking through during the openings, no one came to stay. Until now. The big “FOR RENT” sign in front of the block was taken down last weekend.

Amira comes out with two mugs of her perfectly brewed coffee. I grab one from her as she leans on the railing with me.

“See anyone yet?”

Before I can answer her, the driver’s side to the rental truck opens and a man with dark scruffy hair steps out. It’s not until he is standing on the footpath, I realise how ridiculously tall he is, and I wonder if he would have to stoop to avoid the low ceilings in the communal hallways of our building. He calls out to someone in the car in front, and soon a whole family is on the sidewalk. Two young kids start to play on the retaining wall, while five adults gather and, I assume, form a plan.

“Mum, Dad, grown-up kids, grandkids?” I look to Amira.

“Or is one of them an in-law? They all have really dark hair except that guy.”

She raises a finger off her bright green mug to point. We’re too far away to see them clearly, but I can tell she isreferring to the man wrangling the children off the wall. His dark auburn hair stands out in the sea of deep browns.

I laugh. “I wonder who’s moving in.”

Together, we watch as the tall one opens the tailgate of the vehicle and starts lowering the ramp. His shirt is tight against his broad shoulders and muscular back. A sleeve of tattoos spirals around his right arm. His hair has a slight wave to it, sitting messily on the nape of his neck. A glimpse of the side of his face reveals a short beard, long enough to be on purpose, but trimmed and tidy in a way the rest of his hair isn’t. I can’t explain why, but there is something familiar about him.

“I feel like a creep,” I whisper, turning to walk back inside.

Amira follows. “We can find out who has moved in later, but if it’s the guy with the tatt, I call dibs.”

“What happened to you swearing off men?”

She cocks her eyebrow at me. “Like you weren’t checking him out, too.”

She’s right, but it’s more than his muscular frame that has me intrigued. Maybe it’s something about the dragon tail wrapping around his forearm. Or how the thought of him having to stoop in the hallway feels oddly nostalgic, bringing back memories of hiding in the storage room during my teenage job as a supermarket cashier. Whatever it is, I’m determined to work out why I can’t shake the nervous tingles spreading from my fingers.

CASSIDY

The cockatoos are swarming, and as afternoon turns into evening, I’m well and truly out of ideas to fill the time, and my stomach is rumbling.

Amira and I had been hanging around the apartment for most of the afternoon, torn between wanting to sneak a better glance at the new neighbours, and not wanting to appear nosey. In my indecisiveness, I’d rearranged our bookshelves, emptied out the cupboard under the bathroom sink, and tidied my room. A box of books and two garbage bags of old clothes sit in the hallway, ready to be donated.

Amira spent the afternoon in the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked treats fills the apartment, and the contents of the pantry are mostly back in place after her decision to deep clean the cupboards.

“Unless you’re cooking, let’s go get dinner,” I say to Amira.

She peels herself off the couch. “You can eat macarons for dinner. Pretty sure I made enough to last months.”

I grab one off the bench. “As tempting as that is,” I say, taking a bite. I savour the sweet strawberry flavour before adding through chews, “I don’t think it will fill me up.”

My stomach growls again. This time, the sound escapes the confines of my body, travelling across the room like the rumble of a train. I probably shouldn’t have skipped lunch during my hyper fixation on decluttering the house.

“Geez lady, I heard that from here.” Amira feigns concernas she pulls on her sneakers. “Let’s go, I want to try out the new Italian place on the corner.”

I pull my boots back on and grab a jacket from the hooks at the entrance. Despite the sun this afternoon, Melbourne’s weather is forever unpredictable and I suspect I’ll need it by the time dinner’s done.

“Truck’s gone,” Amira states from the window. “We might not even see them.”

“Shame, that was my plan all along.”

I sigh in jest. It would be nice to see who it is we’ll be sharing a hallway with, but after a day of lugging belongings up three flights of stairs, I imagine whoever it is will have retreated to their couch by now. Maybe even their bed.

Stepping into the hallway, I find my assumptions were wrong.

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