Page 38 of Two Marlboros

He rolled his eyes and puffed in response.

I inhaled my third cigarette of the day. A gentle breeze freed me from the oppression of that summer heat, which, though not stifling, was enough to make me sweat. I could have walked home, but the inner courtyard of the police station seemed a better place to regroup. I owed Alan an apology, and perhaps a little text might be a first step, but I didn’t know if he would listen; indeed, he might even take the opportunity to get rid of me forever and thus leave me with that burden in my heart that I wanted to get rid of as soon as possible.

I crushed the cigarette in the ashtray - this time I avoided throwing it on the floor - re-entered the building, passed under the metal detectors, and passed a group of laughing police officers; likely they were the evening shift officers, since it was already late afternoon.

After the last few metal detectors, I found myself in the heart of civilization. That was undoubtedly the main exit, but, on the right, I glimpsed an alley that led me to the employee and user parking lot, at least judging by the number of cars. Cars and cars followed one another for almost a block, separated from the outside world only by a high concrete wall, which isolated the perimeter of the parking lot from the chaos of the city.

I cast a quick glance at all the cars as I slowly made my way through the rows of cars, but no sign of Alan.

I stared dejectedly at that blanket of asphalt without a soul around. I caught my breath, after which I opened the shoulder strap and slipped my hand inside, looking for my phone. I tapped the notebook with my notes from Plastics and accidentally pulled up a packet of tissues that had stuck to my thumb. I threw it back in and continued searching, but was stung by the end of the front door key; I raked to the bottom of the bag and the corners as well. After convincing myself that thatbag needed washing, I realized both that the phone was not there and that I could not apologize to Alan as I had thought, since I did not have his private number. Or rather, it was in the call log of my phone, which, however, I realized at that moment, he still had.

A pronounced snort behind me made me turn sharply.

“Looking for this?”

Alan’s gaze collided with mine. His hand was outstretched toward me; in his palm, he held my cell phone. I wiped on my pants the crumbs that had settled on my fingertips and took the phone back, tossing it into my bag with the rest. Who knows if I would ever find it again.

“Thank you. I was beginning to think my shoulder strap had eaten it.”

He did not smile and shifted his eyes elsewhere, lost in some thought whose protagonist was not hard to imagine. He shrugged and turned around in the direction of the parking lot.

“Wait!”

He stopped and let out an annoyed sigh, then turned back to me. “Isn’t it time to go home? What are you still doing here?”

I tried to dampen the tension. “You know how it is. Guilt feelings.”

“Coming from you it is almost unbelievable. I’m sorry to tell you I’m in a hurry, though, so...”

He suddenly quickened his pace, but I managed to place myself in front of him and block his way.

“Wait! How about we take a walk? We can talk a little.”

“Nathan, I’m busy. You’re relieved of all your guilt, okay?”

I rolled my eyes and puffed out my cheeks. He was just die-hard! I joined him again, this time walking beside him.

“This will be quick, I promise.”

“I’ll tell you again: I’m busy.”

I huffed for the umpteenth time. “But what do you have to do that’s so important, may I ask?”

He clicked his tongue and paused. A small victory for me, I thought. He turned to me and planted his eyes in mine. Maybe he was trying to be convincing.

“I have to work, okay? Besides, I have to shop for groceries and prepare food. Food doesn’t cook itself, you know?”

He gave me a victorious smirk, but I didn’t let it scare me. I wasn’t going to give in for anything.

“You can always order a pizza with delivery, you know,” I echoed him, in that saccharine tone of someone who always has the truth in his pocket. Mine was undeniable.

“That junk food is yours to eat. See you next time.”

I pulled my wallet out of my pants pocket and fumbled around. As I hoped, he stopped and turned to observe my movements, saying nothing. I pulled out ten measly dollars and waved them under his nose.

“I’m buying ten minutes of your time.”

He stared at the fluttering bill and sighed. He curled his lips, staring at me, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

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