Page 212 of Two Marlboros

It was now past seven o’clock when the first lights of New York City were glimpsed in the evening darkness. I barely restrained a smile that translated into a giggle of joy - I was back home.

I grew impatient at the idea of landing and almost wanted to scream when the wheels touched the tarmac of the runway, a sign that I would soon be able to return to my life. I watched from the window as the plane landed and my heart sank as my eyes filled with the buildings of JFK. I was really back.

The doors opened and I jumped up from my seat like a monkey. I made my way to retrieve the first part of my luggage - the rest would have to wait for the unloading of the bags - and lined up as neatly as I could, even if I occasionally craned my neck to see where they were at and to hope they would get a move on. The crisp December air eventually hit me, and it was colder than the Californian air, but my jacket withstood the blow, perhaps thanks in part to the exhilaration I was feeling. I made a jog to grab a seat in the sleeper and meanwhile looked at the time, as I thought that likely Alan had long since finished eating and was now enjoying the evening sitting full on the couch. I suddenly missed his closed cuffs and his shirt tugged in and wished I could teleport myself to his house with the blink of an eye, and then cursed the technology because it had not yet invented such a thing.

The doors of arrivals opened as did the smile on my face. My eyes sparkled and I might have even kissed the airport floor if it had not been unseemly and even a little gross. So, the floor had to settle for a virtual kiss, but given with all feelings,I swear and perjure.

I stood in the corner and pulled out my cell phone, which finally had reception. My hands were shaking a little as I lookedup Alan’s number and pressed the button to initiate the call - no, no, I was all a tingle. I almost cried with emotion, and when he hung up the line.

“The number you have called is currently unreachable. Please try again later.”

...the smile died on my face. Had he turned off the phone? Had he? The one who turned out to be reachable even at the most unlikely times in the night?

I redialed perhaps expecting a different result, but the outcome was the same. His phone was unreachable. It might as well have been dead, for goodness’ sake. And amid those thoughts some catastrophizing ones also intruded, and guilt began to rise up my throat. Maybe he had wanted to make me lose all trace of him and had changed his number because he hated me and no longer wanted me to reach him in any way. There could have been a billion possibilities, but did they have to occur right then? Couldn’t they wait, I don’t know, ten minutes?

There, I thought, that was a sign of fate. All the dreams I had made on the plane vanished in a flash, and I was left alone with my reality. To keep me company, however, a flash of genius also popped up and I hurried to look up another number in the phone book. The line rang.

“Nathan?”

Hell yes.

“Hey there, Ash.”

There was a moment of silence during which I thought of a clever thing to say.

“Don’t worry, I’m back, I’m not fleecing you with this call.”

I heard him sigh, although it was hard to say with all that noise.

“You came back? How long ago?”

I looked at my watch and made a quick calculation. “About twenty minutes.”

“Oh,” said only, in a surprised tone. “You came back for vacation?”

“Actually, I came back to stay.”

“Oh,” he said again, this time more astonished.

I took a deep breath and decided to drop the bombshell.

“Speaking of which, I wanted to ask you,”three, two, one,“do you happen to know where Alan is? I tried to call him, but his phone is off.”

Moments of silence followed, and I began to dislike Ash’s muteness. It was stupid to get upset before there was a reason like that, but - no, I didn’t like it at all.

“Ash?”

“Alan is fine,” he replied after an eternity. “He went to his folks to spend Christmas.”

What?! I wanted to shout, but I restrained myself. It was not possible. Surely, he hadn’t been gone long if he was back there for the holidays, and nine out of ten we had missed each other by the narrowest of margins. I tried to think.

“In Brighton, you mean?”

“Yes. I know he has another SIM card for when he’s over there, but I don’t have the number.”

A twinge of disappointment took hold of me. I rolled my eyes. How many days could he have been gone? One? Two? I cursed myself for delaying my departure, even if it had been for a just cause.

“But he didn’t leave you any contact information for emergencies? Not even a home number, anything?”

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