Make the Jukebox Play

For the two-hundredth time that day, his fingers brushed the small blue box that nestled in his pocket. Paul was going to ask his girl to marry him and he was sure she would say yes. They had talked of it in general terms on a rainy day, and then she had enthusiastically pointed out the ring in the window of an antique shop that they were strolling past one chilly, indolent Sunday. It was perfect for Sal, not too flashy – instead classy and vintage – in keeping with her style. The ring would sit well on her finger for years to come, he smiled as he realised, the glow of it creeping across his face, as he imagined telling their children about how he had dashed back to that shop a few days later after work to buy it and surprise her. He had already stunned one woman, his best friend Laura, to gauge the effect, seeking a female perspective. She had gasped, hands going quickly to her mouth in shock and gentle tears in the corners of her eyes, as she eventually breathed out, ‘it’s beautiful’. That was exactly the reaction he wanted.

This was going to make up for all the ones that had got away, the romances that had stalled and the relationships he had walked away from or messed up. The love shone out from him as he caught sight of Sal at the other end of the corridor, talking on her phone, smiling as their eyes met and he waved, thinking about hearing her say that breathy, stunned, yes. She was going to be his and everything would be all right. His heart had found its home next to hers. He loved the sense of calm she gave him when she was near or whenever he thought about their future together, all his fears allayed. He wanted to hold her forever, make her laugh away her troubles and always hear the crazy things she whispered into his ears as they both got there. She was the only one he wanted or would ever want. So he had decided he would wait until right after Sal’s closest friend Lou had dimmed the lights and produced the birthday cupcakes she was spending all day icing according to the recipe from the latest perfect bakery’s glossy cookbook. When everyone was gathered around, with the candles still lit in the darkened room, then he would ask her.

Party noise swirled around Laura’s ears as she saw Paul look down the hall and give a smile and a wave. Her friend for decades, their fates had been sealed together by having surnames two letters apart. Shared tables in Junior School for artwork, adjacent desks at big school and exam tables usually next to each other. Born fifteen days earlier, she felt she had been looking after him for longer than seemed strictly fair, given that they weren’t actually relatives. First it was scrapes in the playground, bullies picking on his uselessness with a football and preference for talking to girls about reading. Later it was providing her unique wisdom on the latest injury to his heart, whether self-inflicted or caused by another’s claws. Often accused of fancying each other, they had both laughed off the idea of them getting together so many times that no-one bothered to tease them about it anymore. They were a pair, but taken for granted by those around them as a platonic one. Anyway, she knew he was as useless in love as he was at football. Too intense too soon, swearing devotion after days then spending weeks trying to work out how to tactfully back away once he realised the object of his adoration wasn’t quite the goddess he had her painted as.

Dividing her attention between reminisces of her and Paul’s twenty-year friendship and the conversation she was dutifully nodding along to, Laura didn't see Sal on the phone at the end of the corridor behind her wave back then duck out of sight to continue her conversation, so that when Laura looked over her shoulder to check, it seemed as if Paul’s gestures could only have been meant for her. She tried to give her cheekiest grin in return but inside her heart was breaking. He was going to ask Sal to marry him and a ring that should have been on Laura’s hand until her death would be installed on the wrong finger. She couldn’t imagine where on earth had he found it, it was so perfect. Beautifully cut, unique in its style and setting, they really don’t make them like that anymore, she mused sadly, still trying to follow what the acquaintances grouped around her were saying. She wondered if she had managed to cover the shock and upset she had felt when he had waved it under her nose a couple of weeks ago. There was no way Sal deserved to have that ring. It was exactly as Laura remembered from seeing it so often on her grandmother’s hands before the break-in a couple of years ago. Not that she could prove it, of course. Perhaps from an old photograph at her Mum’s house or via the hallmark, if the thieves hadn’t filed it off. She needed to think bloody hard if she was going to find a way get it back before it got installed as another girl’s engagement ring.

Trying to hear the voice at the other end of the line over everything going around her was driving Sal to distraction. She had walked to this part of the flat hoping it would be quieter but as the drinks were being necked the volume was only going in one direction. She wondered why people felt it so necessary to shriek at each other when they were standing a few feet apart. Then realised it was a slightly ill-natured thought given that it was her birthday they were here to celebrate. She used the reflection in the darkened window beside her to check her hair and the blouse she had bought in the boutique that afternoon, she was looking hot, she knew. She really hoped someone would take some good photographs of her tonight, as she could do with updating her profile picture, she was starting to get a bit bored of the one of her and Paul. Again, she jammed the phone as close as she could to her ear, trying to make out what was being said. She shouldn’t even be on the phone, she thought, Paul should be doing this, but no, once again she had to do everything. She had been on it all evening, answering the same questions about how to get to their apartment block from the tube again and again, even to people she knew had been there before. And the ones who didn’t have iPhones so she couldn’t send them a pin to the location were really pissing her off, so that she had to actually give directions like this was the 16th fucking century or something. She moved into a room, not closing the door but seeking a couple of spare decibels to allow her to make out the voice at the other end.

‘…think I should come down there and give you that birthday snog in person. What do you reckon?’ She squealed, as she was meant to do.

‘Are you crazy? He’s here, all our friends are here. You’re completely nuts.’

She walked back into the corridor, suddenly afraid of being overheard and as she did her eyes met her boyfriend’s and he waved at her. Reassured, she waved back then slipped into the room to continue her conversation.

‘Anyway, don’t you think a birthday snog’s a bit tame? The week I’ve had I could do with being licked from head to toe.’ There was a bellow of laughter from the other end of the phone and suddenly she didn’t need to push the phone in anymore to hear.

‘Sal, you bad girl, I’d love to, you know I would. Nothing I like more than when you’re screaming with your legs wrapped round my ears, but I think your friends might feel it lowers the tone of your birthday party.’

‘Idiot! Not here. Not tonight. But soon, ok? Can’t believe you’re making me wait this long.’