It Never Rains in Colombia (7 page)

             
On Sunday, in the deepest darkest part of night not a single soul stirred in the Rain household, Harlow's bedroom was pitch black. The curtains obscured the light that emanated from the street lamps and the odd passing car. The soft sound of her breathing filled the room coming back and forth like the gentle sigh of the ocean. All of a sudden her desk began to shake. A bright white light broke through the darkness, disturbing the peaceful gloom. In her sleep, she heard a strange song being played. It seemed so familiar. The song ceased sharply. The sound of inconsistent tapping began at her window, breaking the silence. It went on for sometime before she finally woke up. She appeared in the window, letting in the light from the street. There was no one there. A few small stones and pebbles had made a home on her windowsill, but the pavement was empty. The desk rattled again and she went over to her phone; private number.

             
“Hello,” she answered curtly.

  
              “You sound tired. Sorry to wake you.”

  
              “Sophia? What's up?”

  
              “I'm outside, can you come down?”

 
              “Okay, hold on.”

  
              Harlow peeked in the window after hanging up and realised there was a red sports car outside that she had never seen before. It seemed out of place.

  
              She brushed her teeth quickly, splashing her face with water, then washing it, before rushing down the stairs in her cow pyjamas, unable to brush down the bed hair.

  
              “Hey,” she opened the door for her friend with her brightest smile. “Are you okay?” she asked.

 
              Sophia smiled that easy smile, “Not really. Are you up for an outing?”

             
Harlow hesitated.

             
“It's important. I was going to tell you before, but I didn't realise you'd be gone for so long.”

             
“One week isn't long,” Harlow said defensively. “What is it?”

              “I'll explain on the way.”

 
              “All right, I have to get dressed. I won't be long.”

 
              “Yeah right, I'll wait in the car.”

             
“No, come in. I promise I won't take long.”

 
              “Um,” she hesitated. “I don't know if that's a good idea. Your parents will probably have a heart attack if they see me lurking around the place.”

 
              “No, it's fine, my parents must like you, otherwise they wouldn't have given you the number.”

  
              She pulled Sophia's hand, intending to take her to the sitting room.

 
              “Your hands are cold. How long have you been outside?”

 
                She stopped walking in the middle of the hallway.

 
              “Sssh,” Sophia said, looking jumpy, “not long.”

   
              “Liar,” she whispered. Sophia laughed.

   
              “What time is it?” Harlow asked, feeling completely disoriented.

   
              “Five-thirty. Come on, get dressed or we'll be late.”

   
              “Fine, you might as well wait here.”

    
              She left her in the sitting room and went back upstairs.

   
              Then, running back down the stairs as quietly as possible, Harlow crept into the dark room.

  
              “Sophia?”

   
              She could make out her outline on the sofa.

   
              “Yes.”

    
              “I have a better idea. At least this way you won't surprise anyone,” she whispered as they ascended the stairs.

     
              Collecting her clothes, she rushed to the bathroom, leaving Sophia in front of the TV in her room.

     
              The car was moving incredibly slowly. 

     
              “There's no traffic,” Harlow said pointedly. “I thought we were late?”  

      
              Sophia didn't look at her, she just smiled and said, “Yeah, kind of,” and sped up.

    
              “That's more like it. Gosh, you were driving like my grandma.”

     
              “Better safe than sorry, right?”

     
              “So where are we going?”

     
              “It's a surprise.”

     
              “I love surprises. So,” she asked, “where are we going?”

 
              Sophia laughed, “We're almost there.”

 
              The car stopped on a back road next to a cluster of worn-out-looking flats.

              They got out, passing a bearded homeless man sitting cross-legged on the pavement, his legs covered with a thick worn out looking blanket.

  
              “I can't see it,” Sophia said, marching forward.

  
              “Whoa, this place is really dodgy,” Harlow commented, shifting her eyes over the dirty pavement and the rubbish piled up outside the Londis. The orange background of the Londis shop sign, with the lettering in green, was now a faded brown colour. Groups of people flocked past them carrying bouquets of flowers in white and brown wrapping. They passed an ice-cream van and she almost tripped over a homeless woman sitting near the low wall of a park. She apologised ruefully and moved slowly with her crutch to the other side of the pavement to let a large bulky man pass by; he took up the whole of the pavement struggling under the weight of a small tree sleeping in a large pot. The homeless woman moved her polystyrene cup out of the way of the man's approaching feet, making it jingle. 

   
              The street ahead was bustling, the air icy cold.

   
              “So how are you feeling?” Sophia asked tentatively.

   
              Harlow tensed up, “I'm fine, now it's just—I had to have a few days off, you know, because of my ankle,” she trailed off.

  
              “Well, I hope it heals quickly.” Sophia said thoughtfully, “Don't feel too bad. Worse things have happened.”

    
              She was quiet as they came upon the flower market. The breaths of the market folk formed small icy clouds around them as they shouted.

   
              “This one's a bargain,” a male voice called. “A dozen chrysanthemums for a fiver. Come on; get it now before it goes.”

   
              The early rising stall holders at Columbia Road Flower Market had filled the road with pots of beautiful multicoloured flowers for sale. Plants and trees of different varieties were placed on and around the stalls. The road was crowded. People were milling from stall to stall, selecting pots of flowers.

   
              “This is cool,” Harlow remarked.

   
              Sophia spoke as if she hadn't heard Harlow. “When you fall down, the best thing to do is to get back up again and brush yourself off. Don't give people power over you. Honestly, Harlow, you told me yourself if you pay attention to what everyone else thinks you won't even drink water.”

    
              She nodded, taken aback by Sophia's seriousness.

             
The street was filled with trendy types all dressed in black, wearing Ray-Bans even though there was no sun. People brushed past her and she grabbed onto Sophia's arm as she threatened to disappear into the crowd. The heavy weight of someone's leaden foot held her shoe down as her feet went forward. The shoe almost slipped off and Harlow whipped her head around in annoyance.

  
              “Sorry,” the girl muttered as Harlow apologised simultaneously. The girl carried on her conversation in rapid French and Harlow followed her friend through the crowd. She released her arm.

   
              The air was full of shouts. “A palm for a pound. It's a bargain.”

   
              The mixed conversations of German, English, and possibly Japanese, then the English with an American twang filled her ears as people pushed past, and they squeezed through the crowd.

              “It's just, it was so embarrassing,” she whispered as Sophia led the way through the crowd to one of the stalls.

             
“You're the new girl. It takes some time to adjust,” Sophia said.              

             
Tourists with their faces crammed against the glass of a small tea shop were visible behind the stall owner’s lithe body as he gesticulated wildly to sell the palm. The tables on the pavement outside the shop were full despite the awful weather and the heavy grey, overcast sky. Sophia shivered holding onto Harlow's arm.              

             
“It's fricking cold.”

             
“Where are your gloves?” Harlow asked.

             
“I forgot them.”

             
The aroma from the bouquets lined up in front of her was delicious. She leaned into some magnolias and sniffed them, then leaned back, quickly sneezing.

             
Sophia was silent for a while and then said, “It wasn't that bad.” Harlow took a pack of tissues from her bag.

             
“You didn't see it,” she said wiping her nose delicately with the tissues. 
He completely humiliated me,
she thought.
How could I ever have liked someone like that, someone so thoughtless and cruel?

             
“Actually, I did see, but only the end part,” Sophia admitted quickly.

             
“That's even worse,” Harlow said, her eyes hardening with anger. “I worked so hard to get into this school and now I wish I'd never come.”

             
“So what?” Sophia asked, “what's the big deal? You made an effort for someone you like.”

             
“Liked,” she added bitterly. “He's a complete—” She couldn't find the expletives to finish the sentence as a wave of resentment washed over her like newly fallen rain.

             
“Idiot,” Sophia offered. She reached for a bunch of daisies. “I think you caught him on a bad day.” She gave Harlow a quick probing glance to see if she was pushing her too far.

             
“I have bad days, but you don't see me going around,” she gave up, lost for words. “I could have drowned.”

             
All I ever did was show him that I care. What's so bad about that? Am I so revolting?
She thought of the look of distaste Amy had given her before shoving her into the water, like she was a bag of festering garbage that was burning everyone's noses. Like she didn't belong there.

             
“That was Amy,” Sophia interrupted reading Harlow's face.

             
“It had nothing to do with her!” Harlow said. “She shouldn't have involved herself.”

             
Sophia shrugged, “It was a bit uncalled for.”

             
“A bit!”

             
“But then, he is my brother, so I'm always going to be biased. He's always had girls swarming after him. I'm just surprised that they've started fighting over him.”

              Harlow put the daisies back down, “Your brother?”

             
“Yes,” Sophia admitted uneasily.

             
“Oh my God. No! How?” Harlow exclaimed.

             
“He's my younger brother. Only a year younger, though; we're practically the same age.”

             
“Why didn't you say so before?”

             
Sophia walked away, moving toward the other stalls. “What difference would it have made?” She asked, studying Harlow's face.

             
“Yes, but—” Harlow paused. “You could have told me that he wasn't interested.”

             
“I really had no idea. We're not very close. Besides, I didn't know you liked him. You never said,” Sophia explained. “To be honest, when it comes to what Roberto thinks or does or is going to do, your guess is as good as mine,” she replied finally.

             
They walked on to the other stalls and Sophia disappeared, swallowed up into the crowd around the stall. A few seconds later, she returned with a lemon tree.