“You sure?”
“Of course.”
Sophia was on her feet, shaking Jarrah’s hand. “I am very pleased that you like our orchestra,” she said.
“You were brilliant, Sophia.”
“It’s not me, it was the soul in the music.”
Then she turned to me. “Was it good for you?”
“Yes it was, Sophia, quite amazing.”
“It was the first time you’ve heard this symphony, yes?”
“Pretty much.”
“I could feel it. Goodnight.”
Her handshake was firm and cool and strangely reassuring, as if I was being congratulated on passing an audition. Then they were walking away. My last sight of them was the back of Sophia’s head above the crowd, with Joe at her right shoulder. Even though he was much shorter, he seemed more substantial, while Sophia’s body language was hesitant and vulnerable, as if the human mass might swallow her whole.
“Wow,” said Jarrah. “Talk about the speed of light.”
“Do you think we upset her?”
“How would I know, I don’t know who she is.”
“So what did you think?”
“Is she always like that?”
“I’ve only met her a few times, and she’s certainly emphatic.”
“And abrupt.”
“So?”
“You want a professional analysis?” Jarrah asked.
“No, of course not, I’m just curious.”
“Well, she seems to be hanging on very tight.”
“Meaning?”
“She doesn’t seem all that stable.”
“As in slightly crazy?”
“No, not necessarily. Some people when you meet them are open, some are closed. The ones who are shut usually fear some sort of threat.”
“I wouldn’t describe her as threatened,” I said.
“But what do you know about her? As far as I can tell, you know that she babysits a couple of schnauzers and plays in an orchestra. Has she ever told you anything else?”
“Not really, but why should she?”
“No reason at all, but do you remember when you met me and the rest of the family?”
“Vividly.”
“So do I. We downloaded practically everything about ourselves and we haven’t stopped downloading since. There’s nothing shut about the Frankensteins; but with this woman you barely see a chink of light.”
“That’s not what Joe says.”
“I’m sure. But, like I said, Joe leaves a lot of reality to his imagination.”
“Are you worried about him?”
“Worried? No I’m not worried.”
“But you think it might end badly?”
“God, Tim, as far as I can tell it hasn’t even started.”
At the time I didn’t want to argue, not with Joe’s twin sister the psychiatrist, but she was wrong.
12
If you’ve ever been in a busy veterinary surgery, you’ll know that bleeding gums and roundworms rarely stimulate talk of romance. I was naturally curious the next morning about what happened after Sophia and Joe disappeared into the crowd, but there was no time to launch an inquisition. As we cared for our four-footed friends, or friends with no feet at all, Joe and I managed a passing “great concert” and an “amazing night”, but that was all. It was only at the end of the day, when we’d both been wrestling a panicked ringtailed possum, that we turned to thoughts of love.
The animal had jumped onto a woman’s bed in search of the fruit she usually left on her windowsill and she’d bundled it in a large pink doona. It was still thrashing and hissing when she got to the surgery, and I can tell you unwrapping an alarmed adult possum is not light entertainment. They have powerful claws and needlesharp teeth, and by the time Joe and I had it in a cage we were grateful to have escaped without losing flesh or blood.
“I need a beer,” I said.
“Amen to that.”
We sat in my office and after a day of speculation I got straight to the point.
“So how did it go with Sophia?”
“Good, but let’s talk about it when I’ve got a bit more time.”
“Why what’s up?”
“I’ve got to get down to the concert hall.”
“But she won’t be finished for a couple of hours, surely.”
“No I’m going to the concert.”
“Again?”
He looked sheepish, or perhaps like a blushing sheep. “I’ll probably go every night.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Isn’t that a little obsessive?”
“Sure it is, and what better thing is there to obsess about?”
“So you got on okay?”
He paused for a while, taking a sip of beer and obviously considering how far he was prepared to go in the time available. Finally he leaned forward, blinking through his heavy spectacles, reminding me of the possum in its cage.
“Tim, Sophia Luca is the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met, or person actually. She’s not just about love and desire or any of those ordinary things, she’s about the spirit of creation itself.”
“Good heavens.”
“Yeah yeah, I know it sounds like bullshit, but I’m serious. She channels something elemental. You saw what she did at the concert.”
“No argument from me.”
“And it’s not just that, she’s kind and funny, and incredibly forward thinking. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such an open mind. Nothing shocks her and everything is there to be understood.”
“Really? I thought we pissed her off at dinner.”
“No, not at all, and that’s the thing. When we left I expected we’d be talking about souls and all the rest, but it was like that conversation never happened. It just evaporated and we almost fell over ourselves talking about music and art and poetry and politics and science, for a while we even got onto economics.”
“All in the cab on the way home?”
“Hardly. She invited me in and we just kept talking almost till dawn, then she went to bed.”
“And what did you do?”
“I went too.”
There was a disconcerted pause.
“And of course that was amazing,” Joe said finally, “but only because of the mental exchange.”
“So it’s love?”
Once again the blushing sheep in spectacles sat on the other side of my desk. “Definitely.”
“And this is mutual?”
Now he was offended. “What do you