We hadn’t much time for she really had to be up early so we had our sandwiches at Gorilla’s and I drove her home.

We were talking about how we didn’t really mingle with each other’s crowd. And that it might have prevented it for such a long time, but finally, we got something happening.

So, we went back to talking about how we felt for each other from the start, I told her I was sure something would eventually come up between us.

She said I looked different from everybody else in the pack and tried to explain in what ways.

I got flattered, especially when she pointed out that, just like her, I was not to be seen around with someone, as in an actual, solid relationship. I mean, it was much more noticeable and surprising that she was mostly alone, being so beautiful and charming, than me, being so normal and quite sloppy, as her friends used to refer to me, she admitted, confirming my suspicions.

I told her I was totally, massively impressed by the way she totally draw attention, everywhere, and how she had no problem with that. She seemed to be always in control, she was the star of the show, and played that role with amazing grace.

We managed to keep our romance out of sight and when it was over, nobody would believe it ever happened. I dream about those days and it’s so real, so strong, that I wonder if they were not only dreams all the memories I keep from those days.

I had a few drinks and shared some laughter with Eleanor’s friends but I really didn’t dig the whole scene. Most of them didn’t even noticed when I raised a timid toast announcing I had to leave but couldn’t hide their surprise when she asked me to wait a minute because she was leaving too. Before any suspicion gained terrain among those minds, none of which really friendly towards me, Eleanor explained she had a flight early in the morning.

“What now?” she asked me as we were leaving.

What about grabbing a sandwich at Gorilla’s?

“You really like Gorilla’s?”

Yeah, they’re just fine. Do you like Dead Kennedys?

“No, not really, but why are you asking me?”

“You really like gorillas” is the first line of one of their songs, one of their best songs…

She picked the book and read the dedication once more. “These all come from lyrics, am I right? Is it supposed to make any sense? You’re not jumping in anybody else’s train, you know I’m not committed to anybody, if that’s what you meant. Or did you mean jumping in my train? well, as you know, I don’t stay put in a relationship…”

Yes, I know. Jumping in your train, as I thought, was like to sneak into your life so we could travel a bit of the road together. Pardon me, I have this thing going on, like I think through the lyrics of the songs I listen to…

“Or books you read? Why this book, what is it you’re suggesting, sexual enlightenment or experimentation?”

No, nothing about books. I don’t even read them anymore. I read through some of the pages of this one. You were talking to Susan last time at Johnny’s, she said she doesn’t like it, when people give her perfume, that it is a very personal choice. You said you feel the same about books.

“So what?”

You were using Anaïs Anaïs…

The next time we met we were back where we first crossed paths, about a year ago, and finally had some real conversation only a month earlier.

Although she wasn’t strange at all to the place, if it was a match I would say I had home advantage.

But only because I used to clock-in daily, I mean nightly at the place, while she was to be seen and recognized all over the city. Sometimes I was among the first to arrive, sometimes I stayed until closing time. Not scarcely both.

We arrived early at the same time that day. There was another couple but they were finishing a late lunch and then we had the room completely to ourselves. Nonetheless I took the usual table, in the back, around the inner corner.

I was on time and so was she. I guess the smile we shared comprised our mutual approval for that. Not for the sake of punctuality, but for some silent agreement on the necessity of having some time alone just the two of us.

Another thing I remember was some exchanges of looks among the waiters and the fact that only Wally “the Gator” came to our table and sounded unnaturally respectful. I liked that.

As I said she was not as regular as myself, but she knew all the waiters and was known by them all. I’m sure she noticed they were kind of happy to see us together, like wondering if we were “together”.

After a few moments we were back to our previous conversation, like we hadn’t been a whole week apart.

… but I know what I will find and I will never shed a tear, if not for you.

With this line in my mind and a copy of Anaïs Nin’s A Spy in the House of Love in my hand, a supposed well-thought-out approach, in several senses and to its fine details, I prepared my move, trying to make real what every guy else doesn’t even dared to dream.

I held it discreetly as I entered the bar, not to sound snooty. That was the biggest risk I took. Many, many of the regular customers of that clip joint were really rather snobbish.

That was a fine line and I treaded it gracefully. The book felt naturally in my hands even when I used it to point her a vacant table.

We left the counter and as soon as we sat down, before she had the time to ask about it, which she surely would do the next thing, I wrote down those somewhat enigmatic lines right on the front cover.

By the time she had read them, the table was already crowded. So she slipped the book into her purse.