Tahlia rushes out of her bedroom and into her office while trying to place a shoe on each foot. She’s bent over sideways reaching down with a leg in the air so she can attach the shoe and has to grab the wall to stop from falling over. She’s looking every bit the professional with her business attire and polished make-up and hair, not her usual working-from-home outfit but she’s on her way to a meeting with a publisher and needs to put forward her best. She had already had to postpone it due to the reporters camping inside her building. From her desk she grabs a thin black leather folder which zips closed to keep its contents inside. She moves into the hallway - an expert in moving quickly while wearing heels - and to the lounge where she collects her bag then heads out the door without pausing.
She almost collects her neighbour as she clips along the vinyl hallway with her eyes on the lift. She apologises. Both have a quick and awkward laugh but Tahlia keeps moving. One of the four lifts is closing, heading down so she calls with no time for dignity. “Hold the lift, please!”
The hide of some people - the lift closes without response.
Tahlia slams the call button being careful not to break the newly painted nail at the end of her finger. She scans each lift while bouncing on her toes and muttering under her breath something about the rude people who live in her building and don’t hold lifts for each other.
Ping!
She jumps into the lift without waiting to see if someone was getting out. Thankfully it’s empty. She taps the button for the ground floor continuing to mutter under her breath about ‘rude neighbours’ for not holding lift doors for each other out.
Ping!
Tahlia’s tiny stride in her tight business skirt creates a rapid fire clipping from the sharp heels of her shoes as she moves as fast as she can through the tiled foyer floor. She sound projects off the solid walls but she’s out the secure entry point in no time and laughs again as she almost collects a maintenance worker who’s kneeling beside the door looking through his tool bag. She calls back an apology as she runs on. He waves without looking up. His face is mostly hidden by long brown hair and bushy beard but Tahlia has no time for politeness. She’s running late.
When she’s a short distance away the maintenance worker who she almost tripped over turns and watches her jump on the first tram that stops. When she’s aboard and out of sight the long haired, bushy bearded worker picks up his bag and scans the card reader at the secure entry point. The door unlocks and he enters. Whatever he scanned at the door isn’t a standard electronic key for this building but he scans it again when inside a lift.
Tapping the button for the tenth floor he places his heavy bag on the floor and leans against the rear wall. The hum and rattle of the ride up ten floors is set to a gentle piano accompaniment. It’s a song easy to drown out if you had to experience it multiple times a day but it helps the awkwardness of a silent lift packed with neighbours who have no desire to converse.
Ping!
Picking up his heavy bag the worker trudges along the hall that Tahlia had been running down not two minutes ago. The difference is not just his direction but his large frame taking up most of the width of the space which he navigates at a slow saunter as though slightly hesitant to reach his goal; like a job applicant about to enter his interview. So much has built to this point.
The hairy maintenance worker stands at the door to Max and Tahlia’s apartment and runs a gentle finger over the gold tinted numbers screwed onto it. From his pocket he pulls a key. It slides into the lock and turns it with soundless ease. He steps inside and breaths in the view down the short hall ending at the lounge with the kitchen and small dining room to the left. A simple but appealing open plan apartment. Definitely a place Max would have chosen.
The gas hinge closes the door with a click.
The place is quiet - peaceful - and Heath holds his place at the door just bathing his senses in the atmosphere.
A few steps along the hall places him at the kitchen. White door and bench tops. Hasn’t been cleaned since they ate breakfast but still looks tidy due to the bowls and cutlery being stacked beside the sink; ready. Heath places his heavy tool bag on the dining table and moves into the lounge room. The bag contains tools but its only job is to compliment his disguise.
Heath’s body is shot with adrenaline when he hears a rattle at the front door. A key entering the lock. He looks back then around for a place to hide.
Moments earlier Tahlia exited the lift on her floor almost without waiting for them to open. She searching her bag for her keys while cursing her own stupidity for forgetting her phone. Having made it onto the tram she was one stop away when she realised she didn’t have it. She considered continuing without it seeing as she was already late but it had an email with details of her meeting and she made a choice not to memorise the email because she was going to have her phone anyway. She had to return for it and call the person she’s meeting with to make sure it’s OK. She’s barely holding back her tears.
Her key hits the lock and she’s in her apartment making a line straight for her office. Her phone sits on the desk and was underneath the black leather zip-up folder when she missed it. She heads back down the hall and walks straight past the tool bag sitting on her dining table. She’s back out the door and starts dialling her phone.
She not only missed the bag on the dining table but also her brother in-law standing on the balcony having barely gotten the glass sliding door closed before Tahlia was walking into the lounge.
Now she’s gone and Heath makes his way back inside and over to a row of photos sitting on a shelf hanging from the back wall of the lounge, behind the couch. He can still smell her perfume lingering in the air. Of the photo frames on the shelf the centre one is the largest and depicts Max and Tahlia’s wedding day. The photo is of the happy couple surrounded by their glowing bridal party. Heath stares at his brother. Short hair, clean shaven face, massive smile. Heath hates what he sees but imagines it’s him not Max; not hard considering they look exactly the same.
But Tahlia. She looks amazing and he stares into her eyes as though they were face to face. He remembers watching her skating as a teenager, floating along the ground like an angel. He smiles at the memory and allows a tear to find his cheek.
He recognises two of the three groomsmen from school. They teased him but both had been the victims of his covert missions to impersonate Max to his friends. They weren’t mean to him when they thought he was Max.
The other photos are of their parents, sister, Tahlia’s family and a few babies. He moves onto scanning the small collection of books. Nothing of note. A couple of ‘life on the force’ biographies but not much else. Max was never much of a reader and most likely hadn’t even read these ones. They were probably gifts from well-meaning but ignorant in-laws.
Next to the large TV was another wedding photo. Smaller than the one on the shelf, only Max and Tahlia feature in this frame. A pretty photo but possibly one that would be easy to forget existed, at least for a few days, if one day it just wasn’t there.
A Blu-ray player sits beside the TV with one old DVD of ‘Hot Fuzz’ sitting atop it. Max was never one for movies either. He didn’t have the attention span. Nor the intelligence.
Heath takes a seat on the couch and places his nose against the fabric. That is the smell of Tahlia that stayed in his memory for all these years. He leans back into the cushions and makes himself as comfortable as he can.
Heath lost track of time while sitting on the couch as he closed his eyes and tried to imagine what it was like for Max sitting there. Tahlia beside him. It was a dream that made Heath smile but anger welled up inside him as he thought over everything Max had. No matter for now.
Heath makes a move toward the bedrooms. The first on the left is a home office. Tahlia’s work space. He stands in the doorway and pictures Tahlia in his mind sitting at her desk and working away not knowing he’s watching her.
The master bedroom. Heath sits
on the bed and opens the drawer of Max’s bedside table. He retrieves the mobile he sent Max in the mail then lies back with his head on his brother’s pillow.
Tahlia has a seat to herself in a near empty tram. The polished make-up and hair with the perfect business suit are no longer as neat as they were when she left her apartment. Her mascara is a little smudged after cleaning tear stains from her eyes with a tissue from her purse. Her hair is still in a ponytail at the back and kept in place but her head doesn’t hold it as high.
She had made her call when she finally collected her phone and the voice on the other end was prepared to give her an extra half an hour from their original appointment start time to arrive but he was too busy to cancel anything else to give her something beyond that. She never made it. She gave it her best and didn’t give up till she was outside ‘Kidslife Publishing’ at which point she saw the time. The face of her watch may as well have jumped off her wrist and smacked her. Her heart broke.
She fought the tears and only let a few fall as she made her way back to the tram stop for the trip home.
She’s glad the tram is all but empty because she’s not in the mood for people. She wants to go home and be alone. She considers calling Max to let him know how her meeting went but remembered he hadn’t been listening when she told him in the first place.
The piano soundtrack accompanying the lift ride up to the tenth wouldn’t have been as bad if she didn’t look at her watch again and realise she had just done an hour and a half round trip for nothing. She leans against the wall in resignation and just wants to dump her black leather folder down the garbage chute.
She pushes her key into the lock and it may as well have been linked to her eyes because the moment she felt the safety of her home the pent up tears were released. She steps inside and lets the door shut behind her. She dumps her bag and leather folder on the couch as she makes her way to the bedroom where she wants to lie down and forget the day.
She stops at the door to her office and looks in. Phone still in hand she throws it at the wall as hard as she can. It shatters and drops to the floor. She looks at the mess and doesn’t care. Turning away she kicks off her heels and they hit the closed bedroom door. Opening the door to the bedroom is one more thing to annoy her. She can’t imagine the day getting much worse.
Throwing the door open she enters the empty room and barely notices that the sheets are ruffled on Max’s side even though it was perfectly made when she left. It’s not important enough though and she flops on the bed with no plans for getting up any time soon.
Ten floors below where Tahlia is lying in bed the hairy maintenance worker stands street side and looks up at the building.