Page 73 of Two Marlboros

At first, I thought he was serious, but the next moment he smiled and I did the same. Nathan was still walking briskly, rubbing his hands and then putting them in his pockets, pulling them out again and rubbing them, in a continuous cycle.

“Come on, distract me,” he said out of nowhere.

“Why?”

“Because I have the packs in my pocket, and I’d like to avoid running out of all the cigarettes in one evening.”

I extended a hand toward him. “Give me one, then.”

He paused and I did likewise; he looked into my eyes, as if trying to see if there was a catch underneath. He was studying me as he had done just before, but without taking his eyes off me, he slipped the newly acquired package out of his back pockets and handed them to me.

“Don’t lose it, understand?”

“Take it easy,” I replied, setting it down.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s just something from the last period.”

“Maybe it’s because of Harvey?”

Nathan blew out a laugh. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. At least the thought of California comforts me.”

“California?”

“Right, I didn’t tell you. If I get hired, I’ll drop everything in October and go to the other coast to work on a ranch.”

At first, I felt a tightening grip on my chest. It lasted a few moments, and then gave way to a feeling of relief. Perhaps therewould be no more dirty dreams, but there would also be no more evenings like that.

“I’m still waiting for confirmation,” he continued. “They should let me know soon.”

“Wow,” I replied, struggling to find other words. “I wasn’t expecting that. It sounds like a good opportunity, though.”

“It is.”

His face grew gloomy. We kept walking, but a little later I found myself ahead of him: he had slackened his pace. He was watching the sidewalk and his usual mischievous smile had disappeared from his face: it looked like the same expression he had had before eating, but I wasn’t sure if it was for the same reason.

“Did you actually meet someone who wanted to photograph your feet?”

He let a knowing smile creep within the melancholy that had enveloped him.

“Yes, indeed.”

“I hope you didn’t accept.”

“Not at all. He was a harmless guy, he left after I told him no. The worst are the ones who insist. Or the ones who put their hand directly on your ass.”

That last sentence made me imagine someone squeezing his butt, and I was assailed by a sense of annoyance that I could not frame.

A short time later we arrived at the front door of the house. I slipped a hand into my pants pocket and with two fingers pulled out my keys.

“Actually, I think I’ll go home,” he said.

“You’re leaving already?”

He shrugged his shoulders and looked away. “I have to go by my parents’ house tomorrow, and I need to prepare psychologically.”

“How so?”

He lowered his gaze and fiddled with his fingers for a few moments.

---