The Investigation and the Incident
1279 Words
Noah was working on something.
I knew this because the signs were becoming familiar — the particular quality of his focused silence when we were both in the hallway at the same time, the way he checked his phone with the specific expression of someone expecting something and not getting it yet, the occasional sound of typing at odd hours that came through the wall we shared and that I had told myself I was not listening for.
Investigative journalists working on things were, I was learning, a particular category of neighbor.
Not disruptive. Not loud. Just — present in a way that had a texture to it. The texture of something building toward something else.
I mentioned this to Bimpe on Thursday.
"You can hear him typing through the wall," she said.
"I'm not— it's not something I seek out."
"But you notice it."
"The walls are thin."
"Zara."
"The walls are genuinely thin, Bimpe. Felix filed a noise complaint last year about the couple on two being able to hear each other's alarm clocks."
"Did Felix file the noise complaint about the alarm clocks or did Felix notice the alarm clocks because he was listening and then file a noise complaint as cover?"
I stopped.
"That's a very good question," I said.
"I know." I could hear her eating. "What are you going to do about Noah."
"Nothing. There's nothing to do. He's my neighbor."
"Who helped you bake for three hours."
"As a friendly gesture—"
"Who told you he's an investigative journalist that people leave buildings to avoid."
"As an honest disclosure—"
"Who looked at you and said 'I know' like it was the most important two words he'd said all week."
I looked at the wall.
"The walls are thin," I said again, with somewhat less conviction.
"Zara," Bimpe said. "What are you afraid of."
I thought about this honestly.
"That I'm one of the ones who leaves," I said.
Silence.
"You said you were staying," Bimpe said.
"I said it to him. I meant it when I said it." I sat on my floor — the floor of a flat that had started to feel, in two weeks, more like mine than any place I'd lived before. "But meaning it and being certain of it aren't the same thing. And he's already had four people leave."
"So you're protecting him from a version of you that might not exist."
"I'm being realistic about—"
"You moved into a building," Bimpe said, "where the landlord gives motivational speeches to elevators and your neighbor has a conspiracy theory about pigeons and a seventy-eight-year-old woman left you tea labeled clarity and you stayed. You didn't even consider leaving." A pause. "The version of you that leaves doesn't live there."
I sat on my floor and thought about this.
The peace lily on the windowsill had grown a new leaf in two weeks. I had noticed this and found it unreasonably encouraging.
"I'm not going to tell you that," I said.
"Tell him."
"Tell him what — hi Noah I've decided I'm not going to leave so you can stop hedging?"
"Yes," Bimpe said immediately. "Exactly that."
"That's insane."
"You live in an insane building. Calibrate."
The incident happened on Friday.
I want to be clear that I did not start it. The incident started because the group chat started it, which means Felix technically started it, which means when the history of this building is written Felix will be noted as the proximate cause of events.
FelixM: URGENT. South ledge pigeon has been joined by a second pigeon. They are facing the same direction. This is new behavior. Monitoring.
MrsP: Good morning Felix. Would you like some tea?
FelixM: Not now Mrs Patterson I am monitoring.
Noah_5B: Both pigeons facing the same direction could indicate literally anything including that there's something interesting to look at in that direction.
FelixM: What is interesting in that direction Noah.
Noah_5B: ...a wall.
FelixM: Exactly.
NewResident_Zara: I can see them from my window. They do look very coordinated.
FelixM: ZARA.
Noah_5B: Don't encourage him.
NewResident_Zara: I'm not encouraging I'm observing.
FelixM: Zara has good observational instincts. Unlike SOME people.
Noah_5B: I observe things for a living Felix.
FelixM: And yet.
I put my phone down, went to my window, and looked at the two pigeons.
They were facing the same direction.
I was looking at them for approximately thirty seconds when Noah knocked on my door.
He was holding two coffees and wearing the expression of someone who had come over for a reason and had constructed a plausible cover story in the form of coffee.
"I made too much," he said.
I looked at the coffees. They were in separate mugs. His coffee maker did not, to my knowledge, produce two mugs simultaneously.
"You made too much," I said.
"The settings are unpredictable."
"Noah."
"The group chat has started something and I need to not be alone in my flat while Felix escalates." He held out the second mug. "Please."
I took the mug. "Come in."
He came in.
We stood at my window and looked at the two pigeons together.
"They are very coordinated," Noah said.
"Don't tell Felix."
"I would never." He drank his coffee. "What do you think they're looking at?"
"The wall, presumably."
"Or there's something on the wall we can't see from this angle."
I looked at him.
He looked back.
"Don't," I said.
"I'm just—"
"You're doing the thing where you can't stop finding patterns even when you're supposed to be relaxing."
He was quiet for a moment. "Occupational hazard."
"I know." I turned back to the window. "Bimpe says I seek stimulation I can complain about. I think you find patterns in things that are trying to have a quiet morning."
Something shifted in his expression. Not defensive — more the recognition of a true thing. "My grandmother used to say I needed to learn to let things be unexplained."
"Did you ever manage it?"
"I'm working on it." The corner of his mouth. "The pigeons aren't a conspiracy."
"Probably not."
"Definitely not."
"Tell Felix."
"Felix is on a journey that I respect and will not interrupt."
I laughed.
It came out genuine and slightly surprised — the way laughs do when something catches you off guard — and when I looked at Noah he was watching me with the expression I had been storing in the folder and was running out of room for.
"I'm staying," I said.
He blinked. "I know you—"
"I know you know," I said. "I'm saying it again." I held his gaze. "Not because I think you doubted it. Because I wanted to say it without it being part of another conversation." I paused. "Just on its own."
The morning light was doing something very unfair to the kitchen and Noah was standing in it and the pigeons were being coordinated on the ledge outside and none of this was the quiet life I'd moved here for.
"Okay," he said. Quietly. Steadily. Like a person who has heard something they were waiting for and doesn't need to make a large event of it.
The group chat notification went off.
FelixM: UPDATE. Third pigeon has arrived. FORMING A PATTERN.
MrsP: Felix come and have some tea.
FelixM: MRS PATTERSON THIS IS NOT THE TIME.
Noah_5B: I'll come for tea Mrs P.
MrsP: Lovely. Bring Zara.
FelixM: I NEED BACKUP NOT TEA.
Noah looked at me.
I looked at Noah.
"Mrs. Patterson's tea is genuinely excellent," I said.
"It is," he agreed.
We went for tea.
To be continued...
- Writer
