Page 214 of Two Marlboros

To Ash, however, I had said nothing about my purchase. I wasn’t so sure he didn’t know how to reach Alan by phone, and I was afraid it might ruin the surprise for him. On second thought, however, perhaps his interrogation might also have had an affectionate purpose, as if to make sure that his friend and colleague was not in danger of having his heart broken again.In that light, his mistrust and his wanting to give me the long way around made sense, perhaps just to see if I cared, and how much. Well, if he thought he was screwing me over, he would soon be disappointed, because I really cared about Alan and had been willing to lay out a good part of my savings to get him back as soon as possible. Of course, I could have waited for him to come back, but it would not have been the same. A middle finger went up in my mind and a satisfied grin plastered on my face - one point for me.

As I enjoyed my moment of satisfaction from that rematch against Ash, I was reminded of Jimmy. I had come back for him, too, after all, and I was sorry I couldn’t spend Christmas together or even try. I told myself I could take advantage of the trip to England to get him something typical - maybe a model of the London Eye or a bright red phone box. Maybe there was something else I could do, though, like call him to see how he was doing.

As I held the cigarette with one hand, I pulled the phone out of my pocket with the other. I took a nice thick puff and felt the smoke enter me; meanwhile I looked up the home number and initiated the call. It was free. I blew the smoke away by barely parting my lips so that it flowed away slowly and remained in that same position when someone picked up the handset.

“Yes?”

It had been two and a half months since I had heard that voice. I could have said I hadn’t missed it at all, but I would have been lying.

“Hi, Dad.”

Every single time it was the same story: I would get emotional, and my voice would shake. We could have been apart even ten years, but I knew it would always have that effect on me.

“Nathan?”

His voice had changed from when he had answered. It had become colder and guarded, more rigid. I wanted to answer sarcastically, because how many people did he know who would have called him “Dad” and were more than five years old? But he might have mistaken it for snootiness, and I didn’t want to complicate an already delicate situation.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m back. Although I’m leaving for England soon, but I’m not staying there long.”

Why had I added that detail? Oh, I knew why: I wanted him to ask me how it had been in California, or how long I was staying in England, if I was planning to spend any holidays with them. Yes, I knew why. And I also knew that I hadn’t learned anything, and that maybe I never would.

“England? What are you going there for?”

But here it was, maybe it wasn’t an entirely illusory hope, because that seemed like a conversation. The first with my father in... centuries? I had lost count. But my heart clenched, because I couldn’t tell him what I was really going to do over there.

“Just... a trip.”

He was silent for a moment.

“A trip,” he repeated in a suspended tone, as if he was evaluating that statement. Whatever, he wasn’t buying it. I didn’t care. I replied with a kind of bellow as if to reiterate my point.

Silence fell between us and yet to me it seemed all but that. Even being silent was a great achievement with him, especially since I did not feel uncomfortable. The fact that he stayed on the line, even though he didn’t say anything, made me feel a kind of closeness, which if he had been there could have been translated into an arm on my shoulder or any other protective gesture.

“Do you want to talk to your mother?”

“No,” I answered without thinking.

“No?” he asked, in a surprised tone.

The truth was that I wanted to be with him, to make up for lost time and those moments together that we had not been allowed to spend. I adored my father, that’s what it was. He was an asshole, and our relationship was as unhealthy as it could be, but I adored him, despite what he had done to me, and I had never given up hope that between us everything could go back to the way it used to be. Because he had adored me, too; for many, many years, I had been his pride, his favorite son, and it was not the kind of love that could vanish just like that, in the blink of an eye. Maybe we had just lost the way of communication, maybe we would just have to wipe the slate clean, start over.

The cigarette was burning between my fingers, so I took a quick puff.

“Nathan?”

I also loved the way he said my name, in that vaguely pissed-off tone I had grown fond of, though.

“No, I don’t feel like talking to her right now. Is Jimmy here?”

“He’s been in bed for half an hour. Should I wake him up?”

“No, no,” I hastened to answer. “Never mind. Just tell him...” and I thought I wanted to tell not only Jimmy, but also him, “that I’m staying in England for a few days, but that right after Christmas I’m coming to say hello and that I’ll have a little present for him.”

My father made a sound of assent and paused, as if he was again studying the situation. I couldn’t even hear him breathing, while I was sure he could hear quite well that I was having a cigarette.

“Whatever, I’m off, I’d hate to miss my plane. Bye, Dad.”

And Merry Christmas, I would have liked to add, but he would never reciprocate.

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