Page 55 of Two Marlboros

“Yes, everyone asked me, and yes, I thought about it. But it’s not that simple, Nathan, and not just for Oliver.”

He paused for a moment. He was searching for words, or maybe just suppressing too many emotions.

“I miss Oliver. I wish I could have married him, maybe you already know.”

I nodded a little.

“I can’t think about the idea of having another person next to me,” he continued, “of sharing with someone else emotions that I wanted to be ours, and ours alone. I know it will happen, though. Sooner or later, someone will silently enter in me and take his place, and I will be fine with that. Maybe I won’t hear about viper venom or who knows what disease and I will still get excited. It will happen, when the time comes.”

He paused again. “There are a number of things I don’t know how to deal with, though. Occasionally Oliver’s mother calls me and wants me to share her grief. She comes to me now, but will it be the same when I have another person next to me? Maybe I will be happy, and how will I have to deal with her? Will I have to tell her that someone has taken her son’s place? I can’t. And with my mother it’s the same: she calls or texts me to ask how I am, she wants to know if I’ve met someone, because she wants the best for me. But you know what? When I find someone else, because I know it will happen, it won’t be normal for anyone. There’s just going to be a slew of questions, a slew of recommendations because they’re going to think I’m a rebound for Oliver. Something as normal as an affair will become a state affair, and I don’t like that. I don’t feel ready to have the spotlight on such a normal event. When I told my parents I was gay, I felt the same way: couldn’t I bring a guy home and just say he was my partner? No, I had to stamp on my forehead that I liked boysand turn what to me was a very normal event into something exceptional.”

My throat went dry. Because the only answers I could think of had at most five words. Or maybe it was because what I really wanted to tell him was to tell anyone who made comments like that to go to hell, but I couldn’t really give him an answer like that. At least, not in that form. I could have tried to say a few sentences, but that would have been stupid.

“Sorry, I talked too much.”

I really couldn’t make that miserable impression. It was an attitude I had always hated, and I couldn’t fall for it now.

“I think...” I licked my lips, “that you shouldn’t give it that much weight. I mean, I understand that it’s your mother and you can’t...” I pondered for a moment to find the words, “...be rude to her, but in my opinion, you shouldn’t necessarily do anything about it. I mean, if she calls you one day, you tell her you have to go because you are dating a guy. Don’t say who he is or what he represents to you, it will be quite obvious; you won’t have to stamp anything on your forehead, it will be natural. If, on the other hand, you get annoyed by those people who ask questions even about the obvious, well, you can only hope to get rid of them as soon as possible.”

Alan smiled, then seemed to think about it for a moment.

“I’m afraid my mother is one of those people I won’t be able to get rid of. She will ask a lot of questions. Instead, what would you say to Oliver’s mother?”

“I think she’s kind of in the same situation as you, in a way. Time passes for everyone, though, and even she will get through this sooner or later. Maybe with each phone call she’ll be a little less heartbroken and maybe you’ll even be able to talk about what to buy at the supermarket.”

We both smiled. A bittersweet smile remained on his face, less empty than before.

“If only it was all so simple. I feel guilty toward too many people, including my mother. I got a text from her tonight, and that’s why I woke up. In that instant I thought that there are times when I would like to disappear. To go to a faraway land, where I know no one, where I have no responsibility to anyone. Escape from this reality.”

I took one more puff and watched the smoke fly away, away from everything and everyone, ready to disperse into the infinity of the universe. Instead of bringing it back to my mouth, I handed it to him, playfully.

He chuckled, “Still trying?”

“It is my Innocent Evasion. And, in a very special way for you, it’s also free. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Alan laughed and pushed my hand away. The next moment he returned to look at me, as if having second thoughts.

“You can keep that stinky stuff.”

“How boring you are. A puff never killed anyone.”

I pulled my body close to his, my chest to his shoulder, and he began to follow my hand with his eyes as it brought the filter closer to his lips, unopposed.

Alan couldn’t take his eyes off me. The closer the distance between the cigarette and his mouth got, the more I thought he would chase me away, telling me I was a jerk and that I should stop. But he kept pointing his eyes into mine as he offered no resistance and let me almost rest the filter on his lips.

For a moment I thought that this was going to happen. That shortening the distance would not be him and the cigarette, but me and him. The closeness between us was so palpable that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my neck, the smoke against the wind obscuring the view of his face, and he still had its eyes planted on me. He alternated his gaze between me and the cigarette, but just as I placed it to his lips, he pushed my hand away and chuckled.

“Little joke.”

He watched me to study my reaction, but I was surprised: for a moment I had deluded myself that he would do it, that we could share something, a little secret, a snark; instead, he had only teased me. I threw a hand on his arm and he held back a grimace of pain.

“You deserve it.”

He giggled again, but I retaliated: I sucked in as much as I could and threw all the smoke in his face, a gesture he did not expect. He brought his hands to his face and waved them.

“But don’t you smell it?”

“I only smell bitchiness.”

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