"Cobweb" by Daniel Vișan

        It was nice outside. It was midnight; quiet and still. Nothing was happening and even the wind stopped blowing. The daytime warmth had lingered and it was somehow the perfect temperature. There were orange-yellow street lamps lighting the vale between the buildings and there was an empty parking lot. If you went out in the street you could have looked both ways and you'd only have had the road as far as the eye could see. I was in my room that was facing the said empty puddle of concrete. The lights were off but there was light still gracing the walls through the window coming from between the white dusty bands of the blinds. I was looking at the wall in front of me but I could feel the ocean of dark silhouettes, distant lights and proximate alike, nostalgia and regrets parading in the corner of my eye.
        “Can you hear me?” she asked down in the parking lot.
        “I'm right next to you,” I told her as I sat down on the same flight of stairs as her. “Of course I can hear you.”        
        “You didn't say anything.”
        “I was waiting for you,” I said. “I'd have looked like a fool otherwise.”
        “Why's that?”
        “Well what if I ended up talking to myself at night? I'm tired of that. Had to make sure you were there, didn't I?”
        “Oh,” she said. “I guess that makes sense.”
        She looked up at the flies scrawling at the street-lamp then back at me.
        “But why would you think I wouldn't be here?” she asked.
        “There were times in the past when you weren't.”
        “Oh come on.”
        “What?” I said. “It's true. Just because you don't remember it, it doesn't mean it didn't happen.”
        “Were you sad then?” she asked with genuine curiosity.
        “I wasn't happy.”
        She leaned forward a bit then turned her head so she could see me in the corner of her eye.
        “Do you love me?” she asked.
        “You know I do,” to which the corners of her eyes wrinkled.
        “Is that so?”
        “Does it surprise you?” I asked.
        “Well no,” she said resuming her initial position. “But took you long enough to admit it.”
        “I've said it before,” I told her.
        “But you didn't mean it.”
        “No?”
        “You haven't said it since,” she said.
        “Well, in all fairness, you did break my heart.”
        “Lame, dude,” she laughed. “But still.”
        “Isn't that proof enough that I do love you though?” I asked.
        “I didn't say I hadn't proof.”
        “What then do you want?”
        “A chance.”
        “At what?”
        “Happiness.”
        “Well who doesn't?” I asked.
        “People want a chance at being happy,” she said. “That's just too vague. It's like betting on a car and being disappointed that your horse came in fourth. I know what my happiness is.”
        “Bull.”
        “No, but I'm serious,” she said surprised by my reaction.
        “What then if your car does win?”
        “Wouldn't matter. You wouldn't know it,” she said.
        “Do you have to know it?”
        “Yes.”
        “I don't think so,” I said.
        “Oh?”
        “Well knowing certain things can bum you out, you know.”
        “Not the fact that you're happy.”
        “What, do I have to be told that I'm happy to be so?” I asked.
        “It has to be made known to you.”
        “No.”
        “Fine,” she said looking away.
        “Is knowing all that important to you, love?” I asked her.
        “Stop calling me that,” she said.
        “Do you love me then?”
        “What do you want me to say?” she asked still not looking at me.
        “The truth.”
        “The truth is irrelevant,” she said.
        “Why?” I reluctantly asked her.
        “You know well why.”
        “I do,” I sighed. “But still I'd like to hear it.”
        “That's not happening.”
        “You were always like that,” I said.
        She scratched some dirt with her fingernail off her sneaker.
        “Want to get out of here?” she asked.
        “I want to go for a walk,” I said. “I like it here.”
        “What, on these stairs you mean?”
        “No. Here, outside.”
        “Don't you find it boring?” she asked.
        “Do you?”
        “Well I guess not,” she said. “You then were always like that.”
        We walked about for a while. Not a car, not a sound, nothing disturbed the peacefulness. When I looked at her I'd lose her from my sight as we walked under some tree, then again I'd catch her figure in the lights of the lamps. Then again some tree, then the light. She'd only look at the childish steps she took or away in the distance. She said it was okay, but I knew it was more than that. She, like me, loved the sight. And I mean the town. The horizon was dotted and multicoloured were the dots. You could see where the sky began because it seemed like fire was catching in the distance. It always looked like that. As though there was this party going on out there and I was here alone. But I never minded it. Especially not when she was with me.
        “Do you have any cigarettes?” she asked.
        I did.
        “Really?” I asked. “Now?”
        “Yeah, why not?”
        We sat down on the pavement with our legs stretched out in the street. The smoke was rising so beautifully in the absence of wind. When it got in the lamplight you could see how dense it was.
        “You smoke too much,” she said.
        “It's only my second one,” I said in my defense.
        “Come on, we both know it's not the last in this sitting.”
        “Well you had the brilliant idea. Blame it on yourself.”
        “You're so dull, you know that?”
        “I do,” I said.
        “Don't you ever do anything about it?”
        “I always come to you.”
        “Lucky me,” she said, her palms beneath her legs and eyes wrinkling again at me.
        “Oh shut it,” I said as I took another drag.
        I liked the way she laughed. She'd mostly laugh at things you and I would not. But I didn't care much about the reason why she did it, I just liked that she did. It was like that tickling sensation in your chest when you remember something beautiful even though it's just some light on some pale coloured shape that's out of focus.
        “Quick,” she said. “If you could have anything right now, what would you wish for?”
        “I don't like this game,” I said.
        “Come on, be a sport.”
        I stalled.
        “To kiss you?” I said.
        “Come on, that's sentimental bull. That's not you.”
        “You said anything.”
        “Well you don't have to get all vampire-soap-opera on my arse,” she said laughingly.
        “Man, go away,” I said.
        “Oh come now, darling, don't pout,” she said. “It's unbecoming.”
        “Of a lady like myself, you mean?”
        She laughed.
        “I'd want a mansion,” I said.
        She scoffed looking at her fingernails.
        “With a lot of booze.”
        “There you go. What else?”
        “Cobweb. There has to be cobweb.”
        “Of course, cobweb. Has to have cobweb. I like that,” she said. “Go on.”
        “What, is it not enough?” I asked.
        “Well is it?”
        “No,” I said looking at the cigarette in my hand.
        “Come on then,” she said getting up and dusting off her trousers. “Let's get back to walking.”
        In the park it was really dark. There were two, maybe three pale white lamps in the distance and it looked foggy, though it wasn't cold oddly. There was a long road that went uphill with trees on either side and benches by every other tree. She grabbed my hand and we walked like that for a while. Then she stopped. I couldn't see her face.
        “Want to have a seat?” I asked her.
        “Yes,” she said.
        “Where?”
        “On the bench, you idiot.”
        “I know, damn it,” I said. “But which one I meant?”
        “Do you think I can see anything?”
        “Right.”
        We finally sat down and she rested her head on my shoulder. Then I put my arm around her and we just looked at the distant lights. There were three before, I'm certain. But now there were only two.
        I yawned.
        “Oh, how incredibly rude,” she said as she sat upright.
        “What now?”
        “You bloody yawned,” she said. “What do you mean 'what now'?”
        “Well I'm tired.”
        “Oh, okay then. Phew,” she gesticulated with her hand off her forehead. “I thought you were bored for a second there.”
        “Well...” I said.
        She gaped her mouth and she was amused, you could see it. She punched me in the shoulder and got up in an awkward pseudo-masculine fighting stance with a grin on her face that she could not hide.
        “Hey,” I said rubbing my shoulder. “You know, studies show that when you get sleepy next to a lover it really shows that--”
        “Oh bull!”
        She hit me again.
        “Ouch!”
        “Well you deserved that,” she said with a full-fledged smile on her face pointing at my arm.
        “No, I didn't,” I said. “What, are you mental? You hit like a man!”
        “Oh, you whine like a girl. It wasn't even that hard.”
        “Why you--” I said chasing her away.
        By the time we got around the starting point it was twenty past five in the morning. There was light outside. But no sun yet. The silence was broken by the looped chirping of the birds and the sweet concert of cars and workmen hitting with hammers in the distance. We were walking and panting. She was in front of me.
        “You know what?” I said as I caught my breath.
        “What?” she asked.
        “I thought about it.”
        “About what?”
        “That game,” I said. “What I'd wish for?”
        “Yeah? And?”
        “Well,” I said as I sat down on the little grass there was beside the pavement. “There's one thing that would sum up all of it really.”
        The feeling in my chest turned to water going down a drainpipe. There was only one light, now that I think of it.
        “I'd wish that I weren't sitting here alone like an idiot.”