Page 145 of Two Marlboros

“It wouldn’t work, really.”

What would I have given to have a pinch of Alan’s affection? What would I have given for those eyes to never stop looking at me that way? Once we got home, everyone would go back to their own lives and my problems, for him, would be only a distant memory. The truth was that no one could take charge of what I was carrying, even if they wanted to.

Alan’s hand began to caress my arm, as a sign of comfort. To look at it, one would have said it was an intimate gesture; however, there was a barrier between me and the world, a bubble of icy loneliness that only I would be able to break.

“Nathan, don’t beat yourself up. She’s your mother, she can’t send you away like this.”

“My father did.”

I felt like a worm for freezing him out like that, for letting him know that his comfort wouldn’t change a damn thing. He seemed hurt and bitter that he couldn’t help me, he who was trying so hard.

“Thank you for being my superhero,” I tried to make up for it, “but there are some things you can’t fix. I still thank you for trying, though.”

He chuckled at my joke, and I longed to have him beside me more than anything else. His gaze got lost inside the glass as that smile continued to linger on his face.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked.

Alan crossed his hands again, but this time he was looking at the sky, hunting for some memory.

“It’s the same thing my mother used to say to me as a kid, ‘You can’t think about fixing everything’.”

Thinking of Alan as a child softened me so much that I burst out laughing, and he did that with me too. It was a sweet image, reminding me of my own childhood, happy times and all the kisses and hugs my parents had given me that would never come back.

“Even as a child you wanted to bring order in people’s lives, in short.”

“Yes, but, as you say, I lack superpowers.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

I fiddled with a corner of the napkin, tore off part of it and crushed it into a ball.

“You know, sometimes I wish I had a magic wand to pause all my problems,” I added, only to realize the next moment that I had said something similar to Harvey. I crushed the little ball between my thumb and forefinger, exerting some force.

“Wouldn’t that be what California would do for you?”

“Yes, well...” and I slid the paper ball from one hand to the other, “then I’d drop everything.”

Alan furrowed his brow. “Everything?”

I shrugged. “Yes, everything. The university, this city, my father. I only enrolled in architecture because he went there too and I wanted to impress him, but it’s not like I have all that muchpassion for the subject. I know, it’s silly, you don’t need to look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you ‘like that’. I partly imagined that.”

“Yeah, right. I should have known.”

I gave him a complicit look, and he reciprocated. In that moment, I thought he liked me, if only a little.

“Anyway,” I continued, “a few days ago I got confirmation from the ranch, so I’m leaving in early October.”

“And how long do you think your stay in California will last?”

“Actually...” I began, realizing moment by moment what I was about to tell him, “...I don’t know if I’ll be back. I haven’t really thought about it yet.”

Alan’s face betrayed no emotion, none that I would have expected. On the contrary, my stomach reacted with a painful grip.

“Oh. Well, that’s a very different matter then.”

He stared down at his glass, and he felt distant again. He pulled out the straw and sucked it from the bottom, then put it back in.

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