Too Late to be Sentimental
An excerpt from my novel, Diary of a Heretic: Click here to read the previous episode, and here to start from the beginning.
I remembered my manners and asked Carlos, “What about you? What do you want to happen in the New Year?”
He planted a hand on either side of my thighs and smirked. “You’ll never believe it.”
“Yes I will.”
“I want the same as you,” Carlos said. “And I want it this year.”
“With me, it’s just something I dream about, but not in any real context.”
“Name one reason we can’t do it,” Carlos said. “It’s bound to make money.”
“It’s my private fantasy. And actually starting an after-hours group, were it possible, would change everything.”
“Everything’s changing anyway,” Carlos said. “I’ve watched you a long time, Malcolm, and I can tell: You can do it. And with me orchestrating—” he refilled our glasses, “We’ll get very rich, very fast.”
I laughed and the worst of my fear abated. “For a second, I thought you were serious.”
He nodded and pointed a long skinny index finger at me.
We finished the whole bottle of champagne. I was surprised so much time had passed. It was already almost midnight, the New Year. He wrapped the tulip-shaped glasses in two dishtowels and set them carefully in his backpack. When he put on his wool hat, I blurted out, “Hey, you’re not going. Look at the clock. Ten minutes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He zipped up his thick leather jacket.
“If you leave before twelve, you’re being—stingy.”
“Malcolm, it’s too late for you to get sentimental. Kissing my cheeks, he said, “Próspero Año Nuevo!” and left me alone in my shop.
(Click here to read the next episode.)
