The Proposal
written by: Adelino Carbonera
It was a harsh March. In Philadelphia, it was as cold as in Chicago. The rain fell in thin streams that turned into glassy ice the moment they touched the ground.
Alex Walker moved with short steps, hands sunk in the pockets of his jeans, the collar of his trench coat raised, and a headband pulled over his ears. He coughed and spat constantly.
He saw Megan in the distance. She was coming back from shopping, looking even smaller under the weight of that big bag. He waited motionless for her to come closer. Up close, her triangular face looked serious, her brown eyes dimmed.
She reached him, avoiding his gaze. They walked toward their shelter without speaking. Alex felt that everything was wrong, and vaguely ridiculous, which was worse. He felt a physical and mental weariness. The few yards that separated them from that miserable basement seemed like an endlessly long path.
When they arrived, a woman appeared at the gate. She wore a grey travel dress, a white scarf, and a large fisherman’s hat.
“I’m the new landlady,” she said firmly. More than a notice, it sounded like a sentence.
Megan urged Alex with a nod to keep moving.
“Who are you?” the woman went on.
They didn’t answer. They went down the steps and pushed the door, which opened with difficulty. They shut it hard behind them.
Light barely filtered through the air vent, covered with sheets of plastic.
“This is private property, you have to leave!” came a thin voice from behind the door, shrill like a gull’s cry.
“You have two days to get out, or I’ll call the police!”
“There’s an agreement with the old owner!” Alex shot back, annoyed.
“A contract? Under what name?”
“Alex Walker.”
“Who is this Walker? Where does he come from? What does he do? Some good-for-nothing who burned through all his parents’ money? Great future for that girl! Great security!”
Megan leaned against the wall. Alex bent down to take her hand, tucked it under his arm with a trembling, protective affection.
“Let me go!” she cried. “This is not the time.”
He pulled back, staring at her wide-eyed. Then he went to sit on the cot.
“We need to talk,” Megan said, her voice clouded by emotion.
Alex straightened his back.
“What’s wrong with you? I have nothing to reproach myself for,” he replied.
Though his tone was casual, his voice was cold, and the girl answered hesitantly.
“Why don’t you want me to say what I think?”
“I refuse to accept unjustified resentment.”
“No resentment. There are problems to solve.”
“Nestor was old. It happened; sooner or later, it had to. He’d been with me for ten years. Training another dog now won’t be easy, it takes time.”
Megan’s breath had turned into panting.
“Everything here is in ruins. Every effort is useless. The gold, the rings… everything’s been sold, pawned. We need to find something else,” she said sorrowfully.
“What did you bring, what did you find?”
Megan emptied the bag onto the table: roasted potatoes, chicken wings, a thin flatbread, and a can of beans.
“There’s nothing else. Don’t you see?”
Outside, the wind began to blow hard.
“What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you eat? Food will help you feel like a creature of this earth.”
“You’ve never spoken to me like this. Are you looking for an excuse?”
“No excuse. I’ve already decided… I’m leaving you.”
Alex lifted his head, livid. He started coughing again, beating his chest several times. She, the invulnerable one, was no different from the others. Hadn’t she always said yes? Always, yes?
“You don’t love me. You have no idea what I’ll be facing!”
“You’ll do better on your own. Together we’ll never make it.”
“Make it through what?”
“Survive.”
“Where will you go?”
“To my sister’s in Pittsburgh. My nephew has serious health problems.”
“Think again, please.”
“I can’t. At two, I must be on the train.”
Alex sat at the table and began gnawing on the supermarket leftovers. He would wait in vain once more for his favorite dish: boiled beef with horseradish sauce.
Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance.
“After all, all this is nothing,” he murmured. But even he wasn’t sure what “nothing” meant. Alone, with his germs, he lit his ritual cigarette after the meal.
***
A pale sun broke through. He went out without a coat, bareheaded, almost refreshed by the sparse drops falling on his face and sparkling in his hair. He circled the block and stopped in front of the barber’s shop.
A sign was posted: “Free haircut today.”
A guy stopped next to him, read the sign too, and smiled. His skull was bare with dyed wisps on the temples.
“My wife loves thick hair,” he declared.
Alex looked at him in surprise.
“You wouldn’t guess,” he replied.
“I was different when I was young.”
“With age, what had to happen, happened.”
“I never thought I’d end up like this.”
“How was your mother’s father’s hair?”
“Like mine now.”
“Everything comes back. It’s genetics.”
“I fooled myself into thinking it wouldn’t happen to me.”
“Is the problem really yours—or your wife’s?” Alex asked seriously.
“Without a doubt, my wife’s. When we first got married, Bridget used to massage my head, especially after making love. Then the twins were born, and things changed. She loved stroking the kids’ curls. It was a real obsession. Over the years, she never lost the habit.”
“And now?”
“The kids are grown and have the same balding issues I do. They’re married, but no grandkids yet.”
“You just need patience.”
“Would you like to meet my wife?” he asked point-blank.
“Because of the…?” Alex stammered, pointing at his head.
“Yes, the hair. I see you wear it tied back. How long is it?”
“Down to the middle of my back.”
“Perfect. Wavy and a little curly.”
“You really want me to meet your wife?”
“It’s crucial for me. I want to show her to you.”
He pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket and took out a photo. He handed it over, beaming. A beautiful woman with ash-blonde layered hair in front. A dark blazer over a white blouse with a deep neckline.
The man leaned closer.
“I don’t want to lose her. I’d do anything for her,” he said confidentially.
“I get it. I was just dumped by my girlfriend. I met Bridget when she brought her cat in for a check-up. She was still speaking broken English.”
“Are you a veterinarian?”
“Yes, close to retirement; the idea scares me a little.”
“I read somewhere that the human mind is built to always prepare for something bad.”
“Time is the executioner, wearing us away little by little.”
“Can I ask you something very personal?”
“Of course. My name’s Leonard.”
“What will your wife think?”
“She’s a curious person. As for her weaknesses, I’ve learned to sleep on them.”
“Has the war between you begun?”
“It never ended.”
He laughed heartily. His eyes looked innocent.
“An idea is no longer yours once someone else takes it,” he added.
“I’d like to free myself from the burdens that afflict me, too,” said Alex, shaking his head.
“There’s another way to live through paradoxes and contradictions: deceive by telling the truth,” Leonard replied.
“How can you lie and still be sincere?”
“If you’ve always told lies before, no one will believe you afterward.”
Alex was stunned.
“Lying is part of our lives,” Leonard added.
“And what do I get out of this?”
“I’ll pay you for your trouble, eighty dollars.”
“For how long?”
“About an hour.”
“Eighty? No—a hundred.”
“…Fine. Let’s make it eighty-eight, not a dollar more.”
“Why eighty-eight?”
“I was born on the eighth of August.”
“Okay. Deal.”
“One last thing—how do you want me to show up? Hair tied back or loose?”
“I don’t care; it’s up to you. The appointment is here, tomorrow, same time. Just be spotless.”
The cold began to bite again.
“I gotta go!” Alex exclaimed.
“Something urgent?”
“Business.”
Leonard smiled again, his expression neither hard nor mocking. He walked away unhurriedly,
waving to passersby, turning back several times.
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