Page 107 of Two Marlboros

I watched as he let the cigarette burn between his fingers. The cigarette-meter struck again: Nathan was worried. He would never have done this in normal situations, given the sanctity that those three inches represented to him.

Ash, I realized, would never have been able to understand Nathan’s concern the way I did, and perhaps no one else in the world would have been able to. I glimpsed a small, invisible thread that started from his heart and reached mine: it was transparent and pulsed, for all his emotions, which only I could see, passed through that thread; looking a little closer, however, there were two threads, and the second, as transparent as the first, started from my heart and reached his. I did not know who had tied it, but I knew how much it would reveal the moment Nathan turned toward me. He didn’t have a cigarette-meter, maybe he didn’t have anything, but he managed to make me feel naked once again in the exact instant his eyes rested on mine.

I went inside and received my drink card, plus an elbow in the side that remained anonymous. As we made our way to the private room, I intercepted a glance from Ash that suggested I distract Nathan in some way. The idea was to ask around for any information about Michael, but the problem was locating someone who might know something, even though we had tried to speculate that the reason for his disappearance might be money related.

The private room was like another world. I could hear Ash’s words and not be blinded by the psychedelic lights on the dance floor. It was a very restrained room, decorated all in an icy hue,with glitters cascading down the walls and reflecting the lights of the dance floor. We walked down the aisle that divided the two areas with tables and made our way to the one they had reserved for us; a waiter arrived shortly thereafter to take our orders, but only Nathan went for something alcoholic.

“So, Ash, are you hoping to find her?”

My colleague was taken aback, and I didn’t have time to suggest an answer.

“Who?”

Only later did he look at me and I gave him a look of understanding.

“I’m talking about your tall, blond chick.”

Ash burst out laughing and nodded. “Not only do I hope it’s her, but we have a date.”

Nathan let out a little cry, and I wondered how true that statement was.

“Which is why I’m leaving you in a very short time.”

I cast a glance at his drink: he had just tasted it. I was sure he was quivering with desire to go around asking questions about Michael.

“We want to hear all about it later, remember that.”

Ash got up from the settee, glanced around, and waved us off. Nathan followed him with his eyes until he was gone.

We remained alone. I laid my head on the small sofa and let myself be dazed by the music in the distance. The volume was acceptable, but the beat was terrible. I turned my head toward Nathan, who now looked lost. I didn’t know if he was racking his brain with some thought or waiting for a good moment to look for his friend, but I realized that I had to break the deadlock. It was strange to see him so different than usual.

“Shall we go?”

He turned toward me as if he had barely heard me.

“Where?”

I detached my back from the settee. “Didn’t we come for Ryan?”

As he heard that name, his gaze froze. He did not let go of any kind of reaction except for a nod that came after a while. I understood that he was frightened by the idea of what he might discover, but he said nothing about it. He had locked himself in his muteness and seemed happy to stay there, perhaps because his stillness prevented events from advancing.

I would have liked to reassure him somehow, but I did not know how to do so without being inappropriate. His gaze remained vacant, and he let the storm rage inside him; I thought back to the thread I had glimpsed on the way in, but I realized it had broken. It did not glow or pulse: it was simply gone. Nathan wanted to keep me out of what was troubling him in that moment, and I had the impression that it was not just to me, but that he did that with everyone. I moved a little toward him, until my hip almost brushed against him. Only then he did look up and seemed surprised, but mute.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked.

He licked his lips and tried to say something, to no avail. He planted his eyes in mine, as if he could speak to me in telepathy, but it didn’t work. As he noticed, he went back to looking at his feet. I thought of a way to get him to snap out of it, and it didn’t take me long to come up with an idea.

“Shall we go for a smoke?”

It was the only genuine smile I saw from him that evening. He understood that I was doing it for him.

Nathan, however, shook his head. “Thanks, but I don’t feel like it, sorry.”

I thought he must have been really sick and, at the same time, realized that I couldn’t make him smile. I felt helpless in front of that boy, so gripped by his problems that he didn’t even have the strength to talk about them. At that moment Iwished I had Nathan’s Handbook, chapter one: “How to cheer him up when even cigarettes don’t work.” Would Harvey have succeeded? Would he have known which side of him to leverage to get that sad look off his face?

There was someone on this earth who had that power; but, I realized, that someone was not me. I stood up, ready to do my own thing.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

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