Page 74 of Two Chances With You

“Oh, no, you went and checked to see whether the duplicates were still there, so that means you thought about it. OnlyIcould have stolen your car.”

A moment’s silence.

“Well, yes, I did think it, just for a moment. But I would have been happy to find out, I mean, you know, it would have beenbetterif it was you.”

My brother. “Pa, just shut up. You’re not doing yourself any favors.”

“Why?”

Right, “Why?” he has to ask me. And I’m stupid enough to try to get him to understand.

“Nothing, Pa. Don’t think about it. It’s fine.”

“I just had a question, Step. I mean, as long as you don’t take offense, okay?”

“What? Go ahead.”

“I mean, I’m just saying that, for better or worse, you must know a bunch of people in those networks. Well, you see, if it’s no problem for you…if you could put your ear to the ground and find out if anyone took it.”

“Hey, but those people are going to want money, you know? You’re not going to ask me to go duke it out with people at that level just for any old car.”

“Any old car? It’s an Audi A4!”

“Sure, right, for an Audi A4.”

“No, no, not that, absolutely not…Sure, I’d already thought that through. I’m willing to shell out as much as forty-three hundred euros.”

“And why that exact sum?”

“I just figured that with the deductible and all the rest of it…”

My brother, the great accountant. The very best.

“Okay, Pa, if I can, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Step. I knew I could count on you.”

My brother who thinks he can count on me, that really takes the cake.

Two curves and I’m downstairs from her apartment. I go to the intercom, and as I’m about to ring her apartment, I remember that she has a cell phone. I call and let it ring twice to let her know I’m here. Did she understand? In my doubt, I decide to wait a minute. Sooner or later, she’ll come down.

Maybe it would be better if I ring the doorbell. Another minute. I give myself another minute of waiting for her. I light a cigarette. There, I’ll finish smoking this cigarette, and then I’ll go over to the intercom.

The street is quiet. I look around. A few cars go by in the distance. One screeches to a halt because another decided to act tough and cut the first one off. But then the first car takes off, too, and life goes on, quietly and calmly, in this small patch of a much larger city.

What deeply stupid thoughts I’m having. Where am I going to take her this evening? How strange, I’ve thought about everythingbutthat. That was something I ought to have been pondering. I get an idea but then I start to worry. I start to worry about what I’m considering. The idea of me worrying about where to take her to eat? Could I be worrying entirely too much? When you go out with a woman, if you start outlining the evening in advance, that’s when things start to go sideways.

And I mean violently, disastrously sideways! No, that won’t do. This demands nonchalance, improvisation, whatever happens, happens. Then, suddenly, I have an idea. Fuck though, I like this idea of mine.

One more drag and then I’ll press the button on the intercom. But at that very moment, the front door clicks open. Light filters out of the lobby, a faintly orange hue. It lights up the leaves all around in the garden, the distant steps, the parked scooters.

Then an old lady comes out through the door. She is walking slowly, smiling, her legs slightly bent under the weight of the years.

Then, immediately behind the old lady, Gin. Gin let the old lady go first. She’s still holding the door open for her, and she’s helping her out. She’s speaking to her with a smile, nodding in response to some chance question. She’s courteous, she’s pretty, and she’s smiling.

The old lady goes by me, and even though I don’t know her, I can’t help but say, “Buonasera.”

She smiles at me as if she’d known me all her life. “Good evening to you,” and she walks off, leaving me alone with Gin.

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