Page 14 of Two Chances With You

I slap my forehead. “That’s right, in New York. And I had the time of my life.”

“I bet you did. You were right to get away. It’s all been so difficult here.” The Buds arrive. We raise them in a toast. We know what we’re about to drink to.

“Here’s to him…” I say it in a low voice.

And she nods. Her eyes are glistening with love, memories, the past. But here she is present. And the Buds slam into each other violently.

Then I chug that Bud down, ice cold, just fantastic. I want to keep drinking and never let go, but halfway through the bottle, I put on the brakes and catch my breath. I set the Bud down on the table. “Good.”

I look in my jacket. Pallina beats me to it. She pulls out a pack of Marlboro Lights from her light green shirt with military shoulder straps and zip-up pockets. She extracts a cigarette for herself and hands me the pack. I pull out one for me and notice that there is no “lucky cigarette” in this pack. The one you turn upside down before smoking any others. Does that mean she thinks her luck is finished? Her dreams have ended? A wave of sadness washes over me.

I shut the lid of the pack and hand it back to her. I put the cigarette in my mouth. Then she extends a lighter, no, wait, she insists on lighting mine. Her hands are cold but she smiles. “You know, since then, I haven’t even been with another man.”

I take a drag and swallow it, heavy and full. “Man? Boy!” I say, trying to deflect.

“Okay, whatever, you know what I mean.” Maybe it’s the Bud, or the cigarette, or the noise and the mess, all the filth around us. We laugh. And everything goes back to the way it once was, easy, no problems. We tell each other all sorts of things, memories, our news, the news about other people. All the usual bullshit. But we’re happy. She tells me all the latest Roman news. “Hey, come on. You know who I mean. You remember her, don’t you? You can’t imagine what she’s turned into!”

“Hot?”

“A knockout.” Laughter.

“You know what, though, Frullino is back behind bars.”

“No, not seriously!”

“Yes, he got in a brawl with Papero because he got together with his girlfriend and so Papero turned him in to the cops.”

“I can’t believe it. Doesn’t anybody believe in Jesus anymore?”

“I’m telling you, it’s the solemn truth.”

We both laugh.

“The Bostini brothers opened a pizzeria.”

“Where?”

“Flaminio.”

“And how is it?”

“It’s great. You can run into just about everyone, but also lots of new people. The food is really fantastic, and it’s not expensive. So Giovanni Smanella still hasn’t graduated from high school.”

“No, I can’t believe it. What’s wrong with his brain?”

“Well, just think, this last winter he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Get out of here. What a piece of shit!”

The good old days come back to the surface. Pallina looks at me, worried now. “Hey, no, he was just being nice. We’d become friends, and he was keeping me company. He’d talk about Pollo all the time.”

“No kidding!” I say. Then we sit in silence.

“Fuck, Step”—Pallina takes a long slug of beer—“you haven’t changed a bit!”

I’m still tense, but I let it drop. Oh, well, what the hell. He didn’t really do anything wrong. After all, life goes on.

“I’ve changed.” I smile.

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