Page 115 of Two Marlboros

“But pretending doesn’t do any good. Because in the end, by necessity, I always come up against reality, and often it’s not pleasant. In fact, it never is.”

Alan had a beautiful face. He was not a beauty in the ordinary sense, but as you looked at him, you felt safe.

“I know it won’t work with Harvey,” I continued. “I know that my father will never forgive me and that I won’t go back to live with my family. I know that, but I try to pretend it’s not true, because I don’t think I could handle it.”

Alan set the can down on the bench.

“That’s what friends are for. They’re there in your time of need, so that they can carry some of your weight on their shoulders.”

“But I have no friends.”

“It doesn’t sound to me like you’re talking to yourself right now.”

I observed him. He kept his arms folded, revealing his bare forearms.

“Are you and I friends?”

“If you want to.”

That sounded good to me. A cool breeze caressed my skin, but I thought of Alan, the friend who sat next to me, always with an answer for everything.

“And who’s to say we’ll be friend for long?”

“No one. You just have to have faith.”

I looked at him again. He had lied to me that night, but it was an excuse, and I knew better. I knew - like I knew so many other things - that his interest in me was genuine, that his apprehension had nothing to do with his investigation. He worried if he saw me down, and that was the truth, no matter how much I kept denying it.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“That’s okay too.”

I sipped some more beer. In the distance, I thought I saw a couple walking by. I also thought I saw the silhouette of a couple of small birds planting their little legs on the edge of the fountain, getting a little drink. I wasn’t sure, but it gave me peace of mind.

Alan was also looking at the fountain; he seemed relaxed. He did not seem frightened at the idea of carrying the weight of some of my problems, in addition to his own, which certainly were not few.

At that moment, however, I realized that Alan was right: he was not “everyone.”

He was Alan.

We remained silent on the walk home as well, but it was a different silence. My shell was beginning to become full again. I wasn’t going to be a ripe nut anytime soon, but I wasn’t an empty shell either. I was a doll that could blink, a good step forward.

I had to put the keys in the lock again, but I didn’t feel like it. For that night, I never wanted to leave that man with his sleeves rolled up and his shirt untucked.

“Good night, Nathan; call if you need me. I’m always there, understand?”

“Always? So, you assure me you’re not one of those guys who disappears if he gets engaged?”

He laughed and made me laugh, too.

“I don’t think I’m in an engagement mood, but you never know. Anyway, no, I’m not one to disappear, don’t worry.”

“Thanks.”

He gave me a little pat. “You’re welcome. Anytime, take care.”

We said goodbye, brightened by the light of the streetlamp. Only when the door closed behind me did I wonder how he would get home. Perhaps I could have invited him to my place, but neither my bed nor the sofa seemed inviting. In fact, it had been for the best.

I climbed the stairs and entered my apartment. I threw my keys in the ashtray on the nightstand at the entrance, fumbled in my pocket again, and my fingers brushed against a long, narrow piece of paper. I pulled it out, and it was enough to read “California” to remind me of the ranch where I was going to start working in October.

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