Page 59 of Two Marlboros

“He wants an affair with me. He made that pretty clear to me last night, and this text feels like the confirmation I’ve been looking for.”

Alan’s pulled lips never became a smile. “Best wishes, then. Let me know when you get married.”

I nudged him playfully, but he only backed away a couple of steps.

“Ah ah. I’ll keep you informed, as you wish,” I replied with a foul tongue, then passed him to gather my things. He said nothing.

We went out a short time later. He said he had errands to run, and I decided to walk a piece of the road with him. It was a beautiful Sunday morning and the night breeze that had cheered that dream came again in a warmer, daytime guise.

We took the opportunity to look for the car, which fortunately was indeed nearby as I had said. It had been enough to make a reconnaissance tour of the streets around his house,considering also the walking distance I had walked, to find it in less than five minutes, in front of a newspaper kiosk.

The heat cape had not yet surrounded Manhattan, but we moved to the sidewalk in the shade anyway, since Alan’s T-shirt was already making me sweat, due in part to the agitation I had felt over the fear of losing his car.

“Thank you, Alan. For coming to the party and for the T-shirt.”

“Sure, you can keep it if you want. You don’t need to bring it back.”

There was no one on the street. The store awnings were beginning to rise, but people were still sheltering in their homes, enjoying breakfast. Alan had wanted to get out early to enjoy the morning breeze, and I would take the opportunity to go home and tidy up a bit.

A lone car sped past us, making an unbelievable mess and catching the infamy of the newsagent in front of us. Who knows what stress it was to live on the street at all times of the day - at least the kiosk was shadowing him.

Alan was watching him, too. Truth be told, he had been attracted to a tabloid magazine - Rumors - that had a giant-size photo on the cover that read, “Is the leader of the Wit Matrix dating anyone?” That name was familiar, and it didn’t take me long to remember that it was the cover band we were supposed to go hear at our first meeting.

Hardly anything was visible in the photo (and I wondered how on earth they could build a gossip on such an insignificant image): the guy in the band had his back to me, and of the other guy you could just see one hand, tattooed; not even his face was visible.

What a scoop, indeed.

In a moment, however, Alan was immediately in front of the paper. He pulled it from its location and brought his nose closer to the photo on the cover.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in this stuff.”

He still scanned the photo and occasionally looked up from right to left, as if searching for a memory.

“Surprise.”

He put it under his arm, dropped the dollar to pay, and scanned again. Suddenly I had ceased to exist. He seemed quite taken with the picture, and I peeped over his shoulder.

“What is strange about this picture?”

He answered me without taking his eyes off the paper. “Professional secret.”

“I don’t think it is very professional to let a layman know that there is a detail in this photo that is useful for an investigation.”

He finally let go of that paper and looked at me with a snort. Perhaps I had disturbed the fledgling Alan-newspaper couple. I shrugged.

“Whatever, I’ll leave you to your investigation. I’ll talk to you soon.”

He barely smiled. Suddenly he seemed to awaken from the trance he had sunk into since seeing that picture.

“Bye, Nathan. My best wishes for everything.”

I waved my hand at him as I walked backwards. I thought he was going to get into his car, but instead he just stood there waving back at me.

I turned back toward my street and, after a handful of steps, let the subway stairs engulf me. Every second that passed separated me less and less from Harvey, and perhaps I too would begin to find my happiness, in spite of those who said I was a failure.

12

Intuitions

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