Alvaro’s secret life

It was a bright cold day in December, and the snow was swirling around Lukiškių aikštė. Alvaro R., snuggled up into his ample coat in an effort to escape the freezing wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Vero Café, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of iced snow from entering along with him, and left behind that glass partition the-already -3.30 pm-darkening-city-of-Vilnius.
Alvaro had a varicose ulcer above his right ankle, had gone all the way slowly, resting several times on the way. Now he had pain in his whole leg. He was nervous.
He looked around. She wasn’t there. He got a date with her but she wasn’t there. He was disappointed. That young girl was going to make him go crazy. He knew it.
On each place where he went, he saw her round and hard buttocks. It had become an obsession that made him so furious. His heart was beating fast, he sweated and was short of breath: under that agency, he felt her eyes follow him about wherever he moved
He looked back, looked at the entrance. The world outside was cold and frozen. She was not there. She wouldn‘t come. It was clear.
You broke my heart. He murmured, You merely broke my life. But it won’t be forever. You’ll be mine. I will die but you will be mine. Said watching towards that frozen world outside the big glass partition.
There seemed to be no colour in anything, except in his despair. He clearly perceived that he was bowing down but he knew that he did not bow down to that little girl, he bowed down to all the suffering of humanity. He had to find the courage and break that spell and do what he needed to be finally free by that spell. And for the same reason, he needed somewhere to turn. But how to turn and being able to cover himself, in a world where also a back could be revealing?
He tried to remember. He tried to recall some memories of that morning.
Are you always at home alone? Your sister or your mother is not with you in the morning? He had asked her.
Why, do you ask? She had replied.
Nothing, I just asked. I thought of you alone at home. He answered her as casually as he could.
After leaving her home he had realized he was completely in confusion.


He left the bar and walked back like a drunken man.
What am I doing? What am I doing? He was repeating to himself. How such horrible things come into my head?
Was that just a physical derangement or something more?
He had always felt the desire to be with people but lately, he had started to avoid company of every sort, except for the writer.
He felt thirst for his solitude and the lonely life of the writer attracted him. The lonely life of him with her was captivating. He seemed that her was the only reason the writer was living for. Wasn’t this a great motivation to live more desperately? Desperation appeared to Alvaro like another world where to rest. He was feeling something new in his life. He wanted to leave this life and forever. And rest.
- Oh, I wish a god would exist. I wish I could believe in a god? But how believe in God without evidence? -

He realized that so far, he had been very fortunate, too fortunate. Too happy for a while. And now he knew that he would be unhappy for the rest of his life.
He looked at the sky, it was a heavy grey over, it was chocking the sky. He had the feeling that it was about to fall upon his head.
It cannot be. He thought. The heavens won’t fall for such a trifle.