wale.
“Nnnnoooooooo!” He couldn’t contain the anguish of his disappointment.
“What’s wrong? Are you OK, Carlos? What happened?”
Carlos leaned against the door, dizzy. He saw a blurry image of Carolina moving closer to him, with the unlit cigarette trailing in the air, as if in a slow motion film.
“Please…Please don’t…”
“What? What is it? The cigarette?” That was the only explanation she could surmise for his unexpectedly dramatic reaction. “Are you allergic?”
In Carolina’s considerate inquiry, full of concern and sensitivity, Carlos suddenly regained most of the hope that he thought he had just lost. With a tremendous sense of relief, he grabbed hold of the lifesaver that Carolina had inadvertently thrown him and began trying to elaborate on his newly discovered allergy.
“Terribly allergic…I…I’ve had some awful reactions…I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have reacted that way…My body has just grown instinctively repulsed to even the sight of cigarettes…After…After so many bad experiences.”
It was the best he could do to parry Heeb’s castration threat. There was no explaining to Carolina that his aversion to cigarettes was actually just a small example of a much broader and more complex neurosis. That was another talk for another, safer time. For now, a medical allergy was a far simpler and more palatable explanation for the perfect woman who had taken so long to arrive in his life.
“I’m sorry…I didn’t know,” she said with a gentle smile, as she dropped the cigarette into her purse.
The cab pulled over. Carolina passed the driver a ten-dollar bill and the two got out.
“Thanks for being so considerate, Carolina.”
“Don’t be silly. Actually, I’ve tried quitting many times, but it’s hard to drop a habit that you started at the age of twelve.”
That didn’t sound encouraging. But Heeb was right there, ready with the scalpel, so Carlos needed to change the topic.
As he followed Carolina’s lead up Fifth Avenue, he noticed that they had traveled all the way to Eighty-second Street, near the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
“Is this where the apartment is?” he asked, genuinely intrigued, as they walked into an impressively large and ornate lobby.
“I think you’re really going to like this one,” she said with a wink. “It’s nicer than anything I’ve shown you so far.”
“When you were offering me a job, I didn’t think the salary you had in mind was so good.”
“That’s because you don’t know just how much responsibility I have in mind for you. That’s what happens when you raise expectations, Carlos.”
“Oh,” said Carlos with an irrepressibly curious grin.
“You’ll like the light in this apartment,” she added. “And the views of the park are incredible.”
They got out of the elevator on the fifteenth floor, and, as Carlos followed a few steps behind Carolina’s enchantingly graceful figure, he wondered about the purpose of this particular apartment visit. He doubted that she would really pay him enough to rent a place like this, but was happy all the same to return to the familiar pretext of viewing apartments together.
Carlos agreed that this was the nicest apartment she had shown him. It was a two-bedroom penthouse with a balcony and a spiral staircase leading to a roof deck.
“Why don’t you walk around a little?” Carolina said, walking into the large kitchen.
Carlos took a moment to tour the space on his own. Its elegantly simple style, stunning park views, high ceilings, and airy feel were extraordinary. But he suddenly noticed that the apartment wasn’t vacant.
“Someone’s stuff is here,” he observed. “Are you sure it’s available?”
“It’s available for the right tenant. Come and check out the marble kitchen.”
Carlos walked over to the kitchen.
Carolina was leaning against the marble sink area, drinking a glass of red wine.
“I’m sorry. It’s just such a hot and muggy day, and
“Nnnnoooooooo!” He couldn’t contain the anguish of his disappointment.
“What’s wrong? Are you OK, Carlos? What happened?”
Carlos leaned against the door, dizzy. He saw a blurry image of Carolina moving closer to him, with the unlit cigarette trailing in the air, as if in a slow motion film.
“Please…Please don’t…”
“What? What is it? The cigarette?” That was the only explanation she could surmise for his unexpectedly dramatic reaction. “Are you allergic?”
In Carolina’s considerate inquiry, full of concern and sensitivity, Carlos suddenly regained most of the hope that he thought he had just lost. With a tremendous sense of relief, he grabbed hold of the lifesaver that Carolina had inadvertently thrown him and began trying to elaborate on his newly discovered allergy.
“Terribly allergic…I…I’ve had some awful reactions…I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have reacted that way…My body has just grown instinctively repulsed to even the sight of cigarettes…After…After so many bad experiences.”
It was the best he could do to parry Heeb’s castration threat. There was no explaining to Carolina that his aversion to cigarettes was actually just a small example of a much broader and more complex neurosis. That was another talk for another, safer time. For now, a medical allergy was a far simpler and more palatable explanation for the perfect woman who had taken so long to arrive in his life.
“I’m sorry…I didn’t know,” she said with a gentle smile, as she dropped the cigarette into her purse.
The cab pulled over. Carolina passed the driver a ten-dollar bill and the two got out.
“Thanks for being so considerate, Carolina.”
“Don’t be silly. Actually, I’ve tried quitting many times, but it’s hard to drop a habit that you started at the age of twelve.”
That didn’t sound encouraging. But Heeb was right there, ready with the scalpel, so Carlos needed to change the topic.
As he followed Carolina’s lead up Fifth Avenue, he noticed that they had traveled all the way to Eighty-second Street, near the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
“Is this where the apartment is?” he asked, genuinely intrigued, as they walked into an impressively large and ornate lobby.
“I think you’re really going to like this one,” she said with a wink. “It’s nicer than anything I’ve shown you so far.”
“When you were offering me a job, I didn’t think the salary you had in mind was so good.”
“That’s because you don’t know just how much responsibility I have in mind for you. That’s what happens when you raise expectations, Carlos.”
“Oh,” said Carlos with an irrepressibly curious grin.
“You’ll like the light in this apartment,” she added. “And the views of the park are incredible.”
They got out of the elevator on the fifteenth floor, and, as Carlos followed a few steps behind Carolina’s enchantingly graceful figure, he wondered about the purpose of this particular apartment visit. He doubted that she would really pay him enough to rent a place like this, but was happy all the same to return to the familiar pretext of viewing apartments together.
Carlos agreed that this was the nicest apartment she had shown him. It was a two-bedroom penthouse with a balcony and a spiral staircase leading to a roof deck.
“Why don’t you walk around a little?” Carolina said, walking into the large kitchen.
Carlos took a moment to tour the space on his own. Its elegantly simple style, stunning park views, high ceilings, and airy feel were extraordinary. But he suddenly noticed that the apartment wasn’t vacant.
“Someone’s stuff is here,” he observed. “Are you sure it’s available?”
“It’s available for the right tenant. Come and check out the marble kitchen.”
Carlos walked over to the kitchen.
Carolina was leaning against the marble sink area, drinking a glass of red wine.
“I’m sorry. It’s just such a hot and muggy day, and
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