Act 1, Scene 4

FEDE

A girl had invited me to hang out.

With her friends, of course, but that still was boggling to my boyish mind.

So boggling, in fact, it made me gently forget a couple of things: that my apartment was broken into and thoroughly burgled, that I hadn’t slept in days and that the Monterrey locals scared me with their pissed-off-sounding accent.

When I remembered these things, it wasn’t anguish that came back, just a muted disappointment.

I was raised in and with small quantities: little money, little food, little rest and few friends. In my current predicament, survival was relatively achievable.

But with the money gone, I would have to use my scholarship for my expenses and when that would dry up, I’d have officially killed my parents’ dream.

So this girl who consisted mainly of spikes and eyeliner had made my month.

When I arrived at the spot, they were listening to Revolver and a curious vegetable aroma filled the air.

They adopted me eagerly and with curiosity. All artists, some more in theory than in practice I would learn, but all good people; Mayela, Gis, Diama, the whole bunch. I found my in when they started talking about the possible end of the Cold War as I tried drinking my first beer.

It was a pretty house, most likely built in the 60s. Neocolonial or Spanish Colonial Revival if I remember correctly.

The guys left me on the sofa to get some snacks and a tightness in my stomach suggested that they wouldn’t come back for me.

I have always been a sentimental drunk.

Then Meli sat with me.

“If I fall asleep, just keep talking.”

But it was me who felt my eyes’ slow closing.

My head fell on her shoulder, and immediately and literally, I was no longer there.

            END OF SCENE