Page 159 of Two Marlboros

“Crime doesn’t go on vacation, you know.”

Although we were talking like two old friends, I had the feeling that we had nothing more to discuss than his concerns about me or the investigation. In fact, we had never really talked about anything in particular, but there had always been a skin-deep connection between us. So why did I feel lonely again, just like the old Nathan?

Losing Alan was the last thing I wanted, but maybe things between us had evolved at a pace we couldn’t sustain, so muchthat he would never admit to being in love with me and I, on that premise, didn’t really feel like taking a step.

“Then I’ll see you soon,” he finally said. “I’ll let you rest for tonight.”

“Alright, good night.”

“To you too.”

I hung up and set my phone down on the cabinet next to my bed. I tried to settle under the blankets being careful not to touch the sore spots, a mission I accomplished successfully. I realized that I must have been under the influence of painkillers, and I suddenly understood why I was feeling so groggy.

For a moment, I thought that the day had been just a figment of my imagination. It had all seemed so surreal - my father, the phone call with Alan, the distance between us. I fell asleep convinced I was right; in hindsight, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad.

28

Through my fingers

(?Joni Mitchell - I don’t know where I stand)

As I stepped into the hospital room, I felt a strange feeling invade my stomach. Maybe it was the specter of that new awareness about Nathan still hovering in my head, maybe it was the idea of going back to him after what it had (or hadn’t) happened between us. And in seeing him there, lying on that hospital bed, I wondered how on earth he had all that power over me.

We took our places in front of his bed, Ash ready to ask questions, me with notebook in hand. I sniffed the air, looking for that tobacco aroma Nathan left behind every time, but I couldn’t. How long had it been since he had smoked? With some bitterness, I thought that I would never again see scenes like the ones I had witnessed the night we were to travel to Webster Hall. That impatience, that frenzy of his that had thrown off his rationality...

Our gazes met for a moment: his eyes were narrowed and, as if afraid they might communicate something to me, he shifted them swiftly to Ash, to whom he turned a knowing smile. No curled lips, just a little tugged at the sides. Perhaps he, too, felt uncomfortable about the situation between us or perhaps something else. I had not forgotten his reaction on the phone when I had asked him how he was doing, and I feared that the attack had dug a deeper furrow in him than he gave it away.

“How are you feeling? Are you better today?” my colleague asked.

He slid his head back on the pillow to nod.

“Yes, I can cough without breaking my ribs.”

The two of them emitted a giggle as I watched, outside the window, the leafy trees move in the breeze. The foliage waved slowly, in a sinuous, steady motion that reminded me very much of the waves I used to watch on Brighton beach. So many times, at the seashore, I had sunk my fingers into the gravel to place it on my palm, but just as many times it had slipped through my fingers to be swallowed up by the shore, dispersed in that endless blue whose end I could see no end.

Nathan was my gravel. I had taken it in my hand and observed it, studied it with the necessary peace and perhaps loved it a little, but it had not been enough to keep it from slipping away and mingling with the waves, away from me.

“We came here to ask you some questions about the attack, as you may know,” my colleague continued, and I returned to reality.

Nathan nodded again, and Ash turned to me to point to the notebook, on which I was ready to write.

“Yes, I remember. I’m ready.”

“Alright, let’s get started. Could you tell us what happened on the evening of August the 31st?”

Nathan began to narrate. He talked about the fact that we were together, the places we had been, and the route we had taken. He paused to talk about the six attackers - and I was especially amazed that he remembered the number of them, only to hesitate the next moment. His gaze was lost in a point beyond reality, in his memories, and he blinked a handful of times, as if to protect himself.

I thought back to that evening. He and I were not in an intimate stance, and there was no sign of any romantic relationship between us. The homophobic trail was to be ruled out, unless those boys knew Nathan, but he had already ruled that out.

He went on and talked about the visit he had made to the McDonald’s on 34th Street, where he had found Ryan Goldwin and a guy he had called “a tank.” The threats the two had made to him had led him to think that the attack might be retaliation on their part.

I finished writing and let my eyes run over Nathan’s hands and his milky skin. He had begun to tease the area at the base of his thumb with the fingernails of his index and middle fingers; one of them must have found a tenacious husk, because he rubbed with a more forceful, until he had carried out his work of removal.

“We’ll transcribe everything to the computer and bring you the statement to sign, okay?” Ash asked with a satisfied look.

“Sure, no problem.”

He gave him a knowing smile and followed my colleague’s movements as he stood up, then our eyes met. I quickly lowered mine, stowed my notebook in my briefcase, stood up and grabbed my chair to put it back.

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