“You shouldn’t believe the crap they say about sound fidelity and CDs. Vinyl is not inferior to your digital files.”
He glanced at her, looking very sombre all of a sudden.
“I don’t play vinyl because it reminds me of you.”
Meche frowned and stared at the stereo.
S
HE DECIDED TO
pay herself back for all those lunches Sebastian had eaten. All those free meals he had stolen, the pieces of sandwich he had pinched away, the times he sipped from her bottle, the popcorn he grabbed from her bag. A big freeloader, that’s what he had been, but now he had shiny, fancy shoes and she bet there was a nice, fat wallet to go with them. She ordered the most expensive item on the menu—steak—and added a cocktail for good measure. A double, because she needed it.
The restaurant was very stylish, but the tablecloths were too white and the chairs too stiff. She was used to eating her meals by the computer or at a little café around the corner from her apartment.
Meche leaned both elbows against the table and took out her iPod, looking at the playlist. Force of habit. She listened to music when she ate. Well, she listened to music all the time. When she coded and when she went for a jog. Music was there, the constant in her life.
“You always have dark circles under your eyes?” Sebastian asked.
“It depends on the project.”
“Were you working on a big project?”
“Yeah. Now I’m here. Unfortunately.”
Meche shook her head and attacked her steak, cutting off a piece and chewing on it with gusto.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he said.
“Yeah, me too. It kind of spoils the thing. I was trying very hard to keep that enemy-mine thing going but I don’t know if Mothra ever had lunch with Godzilla.”
He smiled and it reminded her of the goofy smile of his youth. Goofy but charming because it was so dumb. But there was a dusting of grey in his hair, faint but marking the passage of time and the long stretch between the teenager and the man was she was eating with.
“You’re still funny.”
“I’m a fucking riot,” Meche said. “So?”
“I don’t know. I thought about contacting you before but I didn’t think enough time had passed.”
“For me to forget?”
“For you to remember.”
Meche lifted her fork and looked at the piece of meat sticking from it.
“Remember, what exactly?”
“How we used to be friends.”
“Two decades ago. Before,” Meche made a little circular motion with the fork, “the whole stabbing in the back thingy.”
“We had fun times.”
“We were teenagers. Scoring enough coins to play at the arcade for an hour was the crowning achievement of the year. What do you want me to do? Get all teary-eyed and tell you I’ve missed you?”
“I’m not sure how you remember it, but I remember that the world used to stop spinning when we were hanging out and it felt like everything was possible.”
“Magic,” Meche said. “Magic was possible.”
“Not magic. Not spells. Before the magic. We got each other.”
“And then?”
“And then I don’t know,” he said. “I wanted to see you again.”
Meche put her fork down. The steak looked kind of bloody and not so appetizing anymore. She grabbed the glass of water and took a sip.
“There’s nothing to see.”
“I know you hold grudges. Hell, you like to hold them.”
“Compartmentalizing works. You build systems like that.”
Sebastian sat back. He tilted his head just as she remembered he used to, like he was taking a mental pause to process something.
“You’re really going to hate me forever?”
“Forever is a very irrational concept. Let’s just leave it at a very long time. Can I order dessert? I need more tea and some sort of pastry.”
Meche waved to the server, not caring if it was a crude way to get his attention
.
“I can believe that,” he said.
“Catching on, are you?”
“Well, holding grudges was your forte.”
“It does wonders for the complexion.” Meche looked at the server. “I’ll need a strawberry tart and some tea with milk.”
“What movie are we watching tomorrow?”
Meche looked at him with an
are-you-fucking-insane
look in her eyes. He looked back at her with an innocent smile.
“A what?”
“I owe you a movie. 1989. I promised we’d go out and we never did.”
Ah, yeah.
That
night.
“Um, it’s okay? You can do your own thing and I’ll do mine,” Meche said.
“We can go to the latest show.”
“You really think I’ll go with you,” she said flatly.
“What was my forte?”
“I don’t know,” Meche said with a shrug.
“I was stubborn. I gave you eight books for presents even though you said you did not want another book.”
“I’m still pissed about that.”
“How does
The Ambassadors
end?”
“Not a clue,” Meche said. “I never read it.”
She was lying and he knew she was lying. She had actually spent a whole weekend trying to find that same book the first time she went to Paris, just because she thought she ought to read it in the damn city where it took place. But she was not going to prove his point.
“I like comic books and albums from the 60s,” she said.
“And Jacques Brel.”
Ah, touché
. He remembered that.
The server put the tart and tea before Meche. She poured a bit of milk into the cup and smirked.
“Y
OU CAN JUST
take them and drop them off at my mom’s place.”
She shoved the box aside with her foot.
“I can drive you back to your mom’s place.”
“I’m not leaving right now.”
“I could wait.”
“Aren’t you going to get in trouble at your job?” she asked. “You’ve been with me for two hours.”
Not that she cared what his job thought. She just wanted him out of the apartment. When she was with him she had the bizarre sensation that ants were running up and down her arms. It was terribly irritating.
“I’m not a surgeon. People are not going to die if I show up late. It’s marketing.”
“Oh, yeah. Marketing,” Meche said, folding the flaps of another box. “What do you do, like peddle potato chips and shit?”
“I’m a Creative Director. I oversee the copy chief, the art director, and—”
“Wasn’t that what I just said? Peddle and shit.”
He looked amused as he sat on the floor of her father’s living room. Like he was having a really good time though she had said nothing nice to him all morning long.
“What do you do in Oslo?”
“I’m a coding monkey. Didn’t I say that?”
If she had not told him, then she was sure her mother had.
“When you’re not coding.”
“I don’t know. I watch TV. I take care of Svend.”
“Is that your boyfriend?”
“It’s a very big fern. I have several ferns but I only baptized one because if you name more than one inanimate object you’re heading into crazy cat lady territory.”
“That’s the rule?”
“Yeah.”
He smiled and she felt herself smiling back, which was not what she had been going for. Unfortunately, Sebastian had a way of disarming her. He’d had it when they were kids and he still had it now. Even though she knew she shouldn’t allow herself to be disarmed, that such behaviour led to shameful ruin, she was smiling.
“As much as I’d love to have a long chat about Pteridophyta, I really need some time to work and you’re distracting me.”
“Just how distracting am I?” he asked scooting closer.
Meche slammed a record against his chest, her eyebrows knitted together.
“Just carry these downstairs and get out, will you?”
He grabbed the boxes looking mightily amused, like that time when he had all the answers to the Spanish Literature quiz and she got none, so she sat at her desk in a panic while Sebastian smirked at her. Later she threw a piece of sandwich at the back of his head, but she didn’t have a sandwich at the moment.
“Don’t forget I’m taking you to the movies.”
“Go back to planet deluded,” she muttered.
She closed the door behind him and plucked a record sleeve from a pile.
“What do you think, Steve Perry?” she asked, smirking at the single—it was Oh Sherrie—and then tossing it to the floor because she realised she was talking to an inanimate object.
Mexico City, 1989
T
HE FIRST DAY
back in class was usually a quiet, lazy progression of hours which everyone—teachers included—took easy. They were all recovering from the festivities. It was not a day for great happenings. But this year something very big did happen.
It took place right after English class. Sebastian, Meche and Daniela were sitting in their usual configuration.
Isadora Galván walked over towards them and in plain sight of about half a dozen other students, paused before Sebastian’s desk.
“Thank you for the nice Christmas present,” she said. “I’m wearing it today.”
“You’re... ah... welcome,” Sebastian said.
“A bunch of us are going to the movies tonight. Do you want to come?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Good. Let’s talk after school.”
Just like that Isadora bounced away, short skirt swaying, dazzling smile lighting the classroom. Gone and gone, leaving half a dozen students—as well as Meche and Daniela—completely stunned.
“Did I miss something while I was away?” Daniela asked.
“I’d say we both did.”
“I bought her a necklace,” Sebastian replied.
Meche’s voice was caramel-coated razors. “Gee, purchasing affection.”
“What do you know about it?”
“She just invited you to make Constantino jealous,” Meche said.
Daniela noticed how Sebastian twitched at that, as though he’d been zapped with a small taser. His eyes fixed on Meche and Meche rolled her eyes in turn.
“We need to change into the lab coats for chemistry. I have to wash mine again. I spilled something on it,” Meche said.
Daniela and Meche headed to the bathrooms. Meche grabbed the coat and placed it in the sink, rubbing it quickly.
“Do you think he’ll really go out with them tonight?” Daniela asked.
“What am I? A mind-reader?”
“I’m just asking.”
“Ugh,” Meche said. “Hey, how do you get rid of an avocado stain?”
“Beats me. When were you eating avocado?”
Meche put on the coat and looked in the mirror, brushing the hair away from her face.
“I don’t remember. Did you have a nice time in Mazatlán?”
“It was real nice. I wish we could have stayed longer.”
“Tell me about it,” Meche muttered. “How the hell does Rodriguez go about giving us an assignment during winter break? What am I saying, you don’t have anything to worry about. You’ll be doing the tutoring thing with him and he’ll give you an A just so you keep paying him.”
“I don’t know,” Daniela said. “It might not be so easy. We have our first session Friday and he’s already given me reading material.”
“I hate his little beady eyes.”
“He does not have little beady eyes.”
“Does too.”
They walked out of the bathroom and went up the stairs, following the flow of students moving at the sound of the bell.
“Did you have fun with Sebastian while I was away?” Daniela asked.
“It was alright,” Meche said, giving Daniela a sideways glance. “He...”
Meche trailed off and Daniela waited patiently for her to complete her sentence.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, nothing. Something dumb.”
S
EBASTIAN WATCHED THE
screen without watching it, his eyes out of focus, and when they stepped into the lobby he could not have said what movie had been screened.
“We’re going to the washroom,” Isadora told the boys.
She walked away, followed by the other girls. Sebastian stood a bit to the side, not really engaging the boys in the group. Constantino and the other three clones glanced in his direction, smirked and talked amongst themselves.
It was to be expected. But then Constantino motioned to him and Sebastian walked towards them, shuffling forward, his shoulders hunched; a lumbering giant.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“We’re glad you could make it tonight,” Constantino said.
Sebastian nodded, a bit surprised by that.
“I’m glad too.”
“But don’t make a habit out of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we don’t want you going out with Isadora again.”
“We or you?” Sebastian asked, surprising himself with the boldness lurking in his voice.
The boys glanced at each other, then back at him. Constantino’s lips curled into a smile.
“What’s your friend’s name?”
“What friend?” Sebastian asked cautiously.
“The one who likes music. She wears her headphones all the time.”
“Meche.”
“Yeah. She’s a good dancer. She’s got good moves.”
Sebastian recalled the night at Isadora’s party, when he’d seen Meche twirling in Constantino’s arms and the sick feeling in his gut. He said nothing.
“If you fuck with my girl, I’ll fuck with yours,” Constantino said. “I’ll give it to her up the ass.”
Sebastian stood straight, unfolded to his full length and glared down at Constantino, his fingers pressing against his throat, making the shorter boy gasp with shock because Sebastian had never before put up a fight. The others must have also been in shock because they did not interfere.
“Never, ever try that,” he whispered. “Or I’ll cut off your dick.”
He released Constantino and stepped back. The boys, normally itching to pile insults on him, seemed to have lost their will and looked dully at him. Constantino straightened up, his handsome face ugly with anger.
“I’ll teach you a lesson some other time.”
“Try it,” Sebastian said.
He thought how they might fare if he cast a spell. Maybe Constantino could contract a nasty disease. These dark thoughts must have been reflected in his eyes for the boys looked away and Constantino pressed his lips tightly together and did not speak again.