Balconies in Quarantine

She heard the first few claps outside, signalling the arrival of 8pm. She hadn’t even glanced at the time since morning, lost in the monotony of these endless days locked inside. “Raquel!” she heard her name being called, Sarah’s voice carrying through the doorway into her art studio in their small, 3^rd floor apartment. Raquel was painting, dressed in her lab coat covered in smudges, Tamara, their rat, perched on her shoulder. They were both staring at the large canvas leaning up against the wall. Sarah peered inside.

“It’s terrible,” Raquel said, “I hate it.” Sarah looked at the painting, a reassurance ready on the tip of her tongue. She sighed. “You’re right. What were you thinking?” “I don’t know,” mumbled Raquel. They both looked at the canvas, black ink dripping off the bottom, neon splatter covering a mutated drawing of her mother. “My therapist suggested I try and paint my feelings as I’m not capable of actually talking about them.” Raquel shrugged. “Ahh, I see,” Sarah chuckled. “Well, maybe a break will help? Do you want to come and clap with me?” “Fine,” Raquel grumbled, putting Tamara back in her cage, “do you think that guy will be there again? He’s a nightmare.” Sarah scrunched up her face. “I hope not, but if he is, we’re going to be strong, alright? Stick up for ourselves!” She took Raquel’s hand and pulled her through to the tiny balcony that overlooked the narrow, cobbled street below.

Raquel and Sarah lived near the city centre of Seville, the spires of the Cathedral peering over the surrounding roofs. Their building was yellow with blue tiles lining the doorway and balconies. The building next to them was a faded green and the building after that, blue. All the balconies housed various species of plant, bush and leaves spilling out over the sides, cacti spines glinting in the sun, splashes of colour on petals. The smell of flowers mixed with the city pollution and hung in the air, caught in the humidity. Raquel and Sarah had spent the last year nurturing a variety of different herbs and chillies, using them in various cooking experiments. Last week they made a rosemary, honey, and olive oil ice cream and for breakfast this morning they ate Spanish tomatoes on toast with fresh basil leaves and mint tea.

The claps had turned into a full applause as the balconies filled with their neighbours paying tribute to the health workers who were on the front line, battling the virus that had spread across most of the world. They leaned out over the railing joining in the chorus, glancing up and down the street. It was music. Each person creating their own rhythm and timbre fusing to create a song that spoke of strength and unity.

Raquel turned to Sarah, a grimace on her face. “He’s there,” she said, hunching her shoulders up near her ears and tapping her fingers against her leg. “Look,” said Sarah, “he crossed the line yesterday, again, we have every right to be angry. If he says anything like that to us today, we’ll just calmly and politely reply that we don’t like how he speaks to us and could he please refrain from doing so. If we respect him, he’ll respect us.” Raquel looked dubiously down at Sarah who was over a foot shorter than her and nodded. “Okay,” she conceded. Raquel tucked her hand around Sarah’s thick waist, hugging her tight as Sarah glanced up at her, grinning, then continued to applaud. Slowly but defiantly, her claps reflecting her personality, Raquel thought.

Raquel loved the folds of fat on Sarah’s body, the softness underneath her hands and often between her teeth, even though she knew how much Sarah hated it when she bit her. She just couldn’t help herself. Sarah was so delicious.

A shout from the balcony opposite pulled Raquel abruptly from her memories. She glowered, fixing her eyes on the face she had been dreaming about punching the night before. “Oh, hi Juan,” she heard Sarah say, offering a half-smile in his direction. “I’m surprised you girls made it out today!” he replied, spit bubbling in the corner of his mouth, grey hair receding to reveal an uneven scalp. “What do you mean?” Sarah asked, reluctantly.

“Well, if I were going out with one of you, I don’t think I’d ever leave the bedroom! I keep hoping that one day you’ll invite me in.” Juan chuckled, winking at them both.

Raquel’s skin crawled, he was so disgusting. She could feel Sarah’s body expand beside her as she drew breath, getting ready to stand up to Juan. He had been making comments like that for ages and Raquel and Sarah had tried being polite and avoiding him, but it had not worked. “Look Juan, I would appreciate it if you don’t say things like that to us anymore. I understand that you think that you’re complementing us and being friendly, but it makes us feel uncomfortable. We’re in a loving, monogamous relationship just like any other couple. That fact doesn’t change just because we’re two women.” Sarah said, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. Raquel squeezed her hand. “That was amazing,” she muttered in her ear. “Thanks, but I’m terrified,” Sarah whispered back.

Juan stared at them, nonplussed. “Oh, don’t think I’m disrespecting you because you’re lesbians,” he explained, “I think it’s really brave of you both to choose women, although I’m sure if you do ever choose to go back to men, you’d have us lining up round the block.” Chuckle, chuckle. “But I get it, the whole girl on girl thing, even though I don’t really understand how you can actually, you know, do it, but I get it. You’re both just so sexy together.” He finished, palms facing upwards in a gesture of concession, grinning. Raquel’s mouth fell open, shock rippling up her body stealing her breath and her thoughts. Had nobody else heard that? She looked around but the balconies had emptied, windows closed, blinds drawn. Sarah’s body was stiff beside her.

“So, what do you say? Make an exception. Invite me in?” he continued.

Raquel bristled, fists clenching, stomach in knots. Anger rose in waves of heat through her body, the rush in her ears reaching a crescendo of screaming voices. She knew that Sarah had been right about respect, that it was important not to judge other people and to act with kindness and empathy. She knew that it was better to educate, rather than condemn, to forgive rather than hate. She knew that engaging in conversation and attempting to understand the other persons point of view was better than arguing. She also had a deep fear of confrontation, extending way back into her childhood where she learnt to soothe the angry voices of her parents, be submissive to avoid the line of fire herself.

But how, fucking, dare he?

She placed both hands on the railing of the balcony, looked at Juan squarely in the eyes, and said, “If you don’t fuck off and leave us alone, I will call the police and report you for sexual harassment. Do you understand? I have written down everything you have ever said to us, I have recordings of you on my phone making sexist and homophobic comments. I’m recording this very conversation. You wouldn’t stand a chance.” Raquel pulled her phone out of her pocket and angled it towards Juan, showing him sound waves and a red dot flashing in the middle of the black screen, signalling ‘on’.

His wild eyes, furious and pleading, blinked frantically. Raquel thought how vulnerable he looked. She pitied him really, but not enough to back down. She watched him look from the phone to Sarah, the softer of the two of them, then back to her, tilting his head slightly, not understanding. She narrowed her gaze and held her phone steady, feeling her own strength ripple outwards.

His lips quivered as he muttered to himself, then he shook his head and with one last glance their way, slipped inside his apartment.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Sarah turned round and gazed up at Raquel who gazed back, her beautiful, amazing wife. “You’re incredible,” Sarah said. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” replied Raquel, kissing Sarah’s forehead and pulling her close.