Page 19 of Two Marlboros

I didn’t have time to answer that he was already gone.

Maybe I was in trouble. Alright, I was in a lot of trouble. I had just brought up a semi-stranger for a party that I didn’t even know if he was going to attend, however, after all, he had just asked me out, which implied that he had some interest in me. Sure, maybe he would have judged the situation childish - he seemed so mature - but maybe he wouldn’t have handed me an outright rejection. I would have gone out with Alan and tried to get closer to him, and then invited him to an innocent party.

Simple as that. Clear.

... Failure.

I took a drag on my midday cigarette, inhaling like I never did before, as excitement and adrenaline began to flow throughout my body. But how had it occurred to me to say his name?

Another of my light bulbs went on. Was I sure, in fact, that there were no other people to ask? Or someone who could have pretended to be Alan? I thought of all the gay guys I knew who were not part of the university. I couldn’t even fill one hand.

I uncrossed my fingers, circled around, and took a deep breath. I had to calm down.

Calm down.

Calm down.

Calm down…

I closed my eyes and tried to think.

I had a party I had to take my fake boyfriend Alan to; I couldn’t miss it, nor, much less, go alone, otherwise Steve would latch onto me like a leech. Alan had asked me out and seemed interested in me. All I had to do was put two and two together.

Elementary!

Some flattery, a few compliments to hurry things a bit, and he certainly wouldn’t turn me down. It was a perfect plan, there was nothing wrong with it.

Why had I gotten so worked up?

I had no reason to! I really didn’t. No reason at all. There was no need to bring in someone else and pass him off as Alan; things were going to run smoothly, and if any problems really arose, I would take care of them in the moment.

Everything was alright. It was all taken care of.

I took another drag on the midday cigarette, but this time I was more relaxed, although my heart was still pounding. Iwaited a while before throwing out the smoke and let it caress my palate with its soothing warmth. I looked up and exhaled.

Everything was going in the right direction.

I walked down the driveway that bordered the university building, a quiet, paved street that overlooked a small, always deserted courtyard and led to the building’s secondary entrance. The only noise that filled the air was the sound of my footsteps on the cobblestones and the occasional pebble that rolled pushed by the tip of my foot.

I was about to turn the corner, but suddenly I stopped. There was someone crying. They were sniffing, but it was a discreet weeping, no sobs. I stretched my neck to peek at who was around the corner and was surprised to catch sight of a familiar back and a blond mop that had kept me company since we were kids.

Kneeling in front of a small wall, Ryan sniffed more time, moving his head from right to left. He turned his head and inhaled vigorously, after which he rubbed a hand over his nose, accompanying the gesture with more loud breaths. He alternated his gaze from side to side, turned to do the same, and I managed just in time to retreat behind the wall before he could see me. I waited a few seconds and peeped back, but he had already started off again toward the side entrance, casting glances behind him as a precaution.

I came out of my hiding place and approached the small wall where Ryan had been until then. It wasn’t much different from the pile of stone I observed every day, and while I strained to notice something strange, I had to admit there was nothing special up there except the usual cracks and traces of moss. Maybe it had just been suggestion, or maybe he really was ... sniffing drugs?

I moved my last few steps up the driveway until I reached the entrance. Ryan had already entered the building and I was late for class, but I promised myself to talk to him as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

I walked briskly into the classroom with these thoughts and nodded to Ryan and Laura, who sat next to each other in the back row, then took a seat in the first free chair, hoping to have been as unobtrusive as possible. I let the properties of polyethylene enter my head and, slowly, the professor’s voice made me put aside my torments about the scene I had seen just before.

In retrospect, though, I had to admit one thing: Ryan didn’t exactly look like someone who had just cried.

When class ended, I sprinted out of the classroom. Ryan and Laura came out into the hall shortly after and sat down on a bench set against the wall. I tried to walk toward them, but my legs were stuck.

He was laughing and joking with her as if nothing was wrong. He was not elated, nor did he seem out of this world. I took small steps toward them, and her face lit up when she saw me. She got up from the bench and walked over to me, patting me on the back.

“How soporific did you find it from one to ten?” she asked.

“Twenty?”

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