Page 196 of Two Marlboros

The tightness that had seized me just before became clear, and guilt consumed me. I was going to leave my mother, but mostly my brother. It might have been the last time we bothered the ants together, because he would grow up and I would not be able to turn back the hands of time. Likely, I would return sooner or later, but would he be there waiting for me?

I was reminded of Ryan, of what I had done with him - and what I was doing, unwillingly, even at that moment. And in seeing my mother and brother together, I realized that it wasn’t just that, no; they would really become the family of three that I had always seen, and this time because of me.

“When will we do it again, Naty?”

His big eyes stared at me, with a smile on his lips that I feared would fade before long. And so, I lied.

“Soon, Jimmy, soon.”

I tousled his hair and he squinted, pleased; I felt like a worm in knowing I was telling him a lie, for that moment would not come.

I had let my mother drive Jimmy home without saying more than necessary. As soon as the Ford Focus restarted, I tried to resist the urge to look at the time. I attempted to take two steps, but the truth was that I could not take my eyes off those ants. In looking at them I imagined Jimmy still there, beside me; and when I couldn’t take it any longer and looked at the time, I told myself that I could stay with him a little longer, because it was just after five o’clock, and what could I possibly have to do that was so important that I wouldn’t still be with him?

But I knew it was unfair to think that way, unfair to myself. I had an opportunity to start over and put the pieces of my life back together, for once to fit them together as I said. I could not pass up such an opportunity, and I repeated this to myself for another five minutes before I found some sort of balance that would not cause me to recoil in guilt.

Predictably, my thoughts flew to Alan, and I wondered what he was doing at that moment. For the past few days, I had wanted to spend time together before the official party, but I was not sure if he wanted as much, consequently I had not even asked him. So, I found myself wandering around the city, passing by people and shop windows, looking at everything and nothing.

I arrived at the Royale, the place I had chosen to have an aperitif, around six o’clock, half an hour before my official appointment with the others. I didn’t know why I had arrived so early, or maybe I did; underneath I hoped to find Alan waiting for me, perhaps because he was sorry I was leaving and eager at all costs to spend more time with me than planned.

Perhaps for that reason I had chosen an outfit that I would not have called “date” attire but was a tad above what I would wear for a casual appointment among friends. So, I had pulled out of the closet a light white pullover, which I put on over a T-shirt, and tight pants, the kind that had earned me a peek at my bottom from Alan one time. I hoped it would not be too noticeable that I had, so to speak, bundled up more than usual, although likely no one would have paid too much attention to it.

I looked around and cast a glance across the street, but nothing: I was alone. Out of meticulousness I checked again, left and right; and since the club was on the corner of Tenth Street, I looked out to see if by any chance Alan was about to arrive from the other street. A disappointed sigh drained me of all expectations, so I turned back and stopped in front of a liquor store window next to the diner. I took a peek at the guy behind the counter, and he didn’t inspire much confidence, so I stuffed my hands in my jacket pockets and thought that pacing up and down in front of the place was the best way to beguile the wait.

With every step I puffed and with every turn I looked at the time; then I began to do this every time I passed by the liquor store, to resist the temptation that looking inside that every window arouses. After I had gone back and forth at least twenty times, I stuck my hand in my pants pocket and slipped out a Marlboro. As soon as I lit it and inhaled, I suddenly stopped and was invaded by a feeling of inner peace and hoped that the next ten minutes would be better than the ones that had just passed.

In the meantime, I kept peeking, sometimes tiptoeing and with my head stretched, but there was no sign, yet, of the four guests. I took another puff and blew out the smoke, after which I watched the street for a familiar car or license plate, but all I could see was the shapeless cluster of people coming and going to the tune of “Excuse me” and “Pardon”.

I sucked in my cigarette again, already half-consumed - another five minutes had passed - and meanwhile sprung impatiently on one leg. Catastrophic thoughts darted through my mind: perhaps they had forgotten? Had they gotten the day wrong? Wrong time?

I lifted my chin to the sky and sighed, because I knew that at least Alan would remember. Right? Unless he had been caught in a moment of despondency and decided not to show up, perhaps to avoid the heartbreak of saying goodbye before I left.

Yeah.

In fact, it was a hypothesis that had its point. And without Alan perhaps Ash would not have come either; just Nelly and Molly because there was a different bond with them, without those stupid unspoken sentences and feelings left unsaid.

Another puff of my cigarette and another minute passed, and all the hope I had pinned on an early meeting with Alan began to dissolve faster than the smoke in the air, along with a series of fantasies about him being more relaxed and spontaneous because of the end of the investigation.

At that point I gave in to anxiety and took another puff; I exhaled sharply as I once again stretched my neck in search of someone and-

“Peekaboo.”

I gasped and turned around sharply. I almost screamed, but, luckily, I restrained myself. There, in front of me was the last person from whom I would have expected such a sympathetic joke.

“Idiot! You scared the hell out of me.”

Alan. Still with his shirt in his pants and his cuffs buttoned, with that touch of formality that he always carried with him, yet he exuded an odd aura, starting with that little joke that was so unlike him, at least to the Alan I had known up to that point. I took the last puff on the now-worn cigarette, but as soon as Imet his gaze he immediately withdrew and moved it elsewhere. I crushed the cigarette on the ashtray next to the club, then returned to him, who followed me with his eyes until I was right in front of him.

There was something different in his gaze, a kind of relaxation I had never seen in him, caught up as he was always by Oliver or the investigation or whatever. He looked serene, and that impression was confirmed when his lips curved into a hinted smile.

“Sorry, I would have liked to arrive a little earlier, but...” and out of the corner of my eye I saw him playing with his fingers, “...I was late. I’m sorry.”

Was it embarrassment that I discerned in his eyes and in his fiddling? And not the embarrassment of someone who doesn’t know what to say, but that of someone who would like to say too much but holds back. It was strange to see him without his professional mask, perhaps the only thing that had helped him, in those two months, to maintain a certain distance with me. And at that moment there was something that made him nervous, and I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that I was about to leave.

Maybe he just wanted to break the ice, and he didn’t know how to do that, so I tried my own way to resolve the situation. I leaned toward him and put my arms around his neck, a hug that he immediately reciprocated by wrapping my whole body with his arms and pulling me to him, barely squeezing.

It was not the first time we hugged, but it was not so often that his body felt so tight against mine, and my head resting between his neck and shoulder made me sense that his heart was beating at an irregular and rapid pace. No doubt that was not the embrace between two friends, not when he just bent his head to brush my cheek with his nose, which he moved lightly as if to caress me. I felt his hint of beard on my skin and his breathbrushed my neck; before I went breathless, I was in time to catch in the smell of...

...cologne?

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