Page 202 of Two Marlboros

He lowered his gaze and said nothing more. All the halo of levity he had had up to that moment disappeared in the blink of an eye, and it took only a moment for me to realize the rubbish I had said. For while it was true that I was there with him because of the robbery, the post office and so on, he was there with me because Oliver was dead. For if he had been alive, Ash would never have arranged that sort of date for him for the Wit Matrix concert, and I would have remained nothing more than an overly brazen witness. I wondered how he felt at that moment, about Oliver’s death, but the next moment I scolded myself for thinking such a thing, perhaps because I had hoped that he would consider me at least as important as the love of his life had been.

I felt insignificant all at once and even a little ridiculous for that speech I had made, as if for him to meet me had been the event of the century and the universe had devised everything to make it happen. Instead, likely it would have taken him only a couple of weeks to forget me after I left, more like a meeting of destiny.

I went back to watching the concert, with my elbows planted in my thighs and my chin resting on my palms, embarrassed and regretting having brought up that subject. I knew I was giving him my back, but I couldn’t come up with an intelligent expression to make or anything meaningful to say. I had killed all that chemistry between us with one sentence. What a record.

The song ended and I wondered if that date hadn’t ended as well. Any minute now I was expecting a sentence from Alan announcing an unlikely 9:30 p.m. engagement, and in my head, I was counting the seconds until that fateful moment. I counted and counted, but Alan said nothing. Perhaps he really felt sorry for me or perhaps he was sorry to see that it would be yet another date between us that ended abnormally.

The singer drank some water, then returned to the microphone. It only took me a few notes to recognizeKiss meby Sixpence None The Richer.

A hand brushed my head with a caress to call my attention, so I turned around to find Alan’s smiling face and a barely whispered “Hey” from him; that word was enough to tell me that he wanted to know how I was doing even though I had fucked up, and I wondered again how anyone could not love him. I barely moved my head to give him tacit confirmation that I was fine, and the next instant he was back to focusing on the song. I did likewise with renewed enthusiasm - yes, I mean, he didn’t hate me for what I had said - happy that I had been forgiven for that levity of mine just before.

Kiss me made me imagine two lovers in the moonlight waiting for a kiss, which, not without a certain irony, was kind of what Alan and I were.

I sang the first verse and the images from the video clip came back to my mind: the boys sitting on the bench, the slight breeze to muss their hair, Leigh Nash’s dreamy look with that jaunty haircut, the clips from the movie to which that song had played in the background.

And then there it was, that refrain that had made me long for such a scenario more than once. I hummed it with ever-increasing transport, a dreamy smile spreading across my face word after word.

I felt myself being held by the waist and turned around.

Time for him to pull my body to himself, and Alan’s lips were on mine.

So, kiss me...

I lost a beat.

He had waited...

(and I savored his soft lips)

... the refrain of the song.

(And a slight tingling of his beard)

Alan was kissing me.

He had really made up his mind.

(And he had also made up his mind tocontaminate us)

He kissed well. But maybe I would have thought so anyway.

(And the smell of cologne was back, too)

So, he had given me a chance.

(He was leading)

(That washiskiss)

I was no longer just the nice guy to spend an evening with....

(It made my heartbeat quicken that he wanted me so badly)

... I was something more to him.

Had he fallen in love with me?

Withme?

---