Chapter 03

That couldn't be true. Had I hallucinated the whole thing? Did that scene really happen? Was Ian Caccini, a ghost, really on my doorstep? And being a son of a bitch of a jerk?

I questioned my lucidity for hours. I showered, put on a fresh outfit, brushed my hair and went to prepare a snack still with doubt choking my senses.

After a long time of reasoning, I came to a solid conclusion: that mature looking, cold, tired, grown  up guy was Ian Caccini. The same kid who confronted me on one of the worst days of my life (my first low grade), the same guy who called me on a date before I disappeared for four years, and the same guy who treated me like a stranger two hours ago.

I didn't change as much as he did, and as soon as I slammed my eyes on his face, I knew who it belonged to. I would never forget him. How was he able to forget me?

Not that I cared that much, but Ian saw me every Sunday for two years of our lives. Every Monday in Spanish class and almost every damn day in the halls of the school. It's not just because we didn't talk so much that he wouldn't recognize me that way.

Why did he pretend? Why did you treat me so coldly? And what were those scars? And the beard? What about muscles?

My God, I'm going to be crazy!

I should get those doubts out of my head and focus on chewing on the sandwich that cooled in my hands, I should do it for my own health. And until I tried for a few seconds, however, I ended up remembering another somewhat solid conclusion: Ian Caccini was my neighbor!

How did this happen? What are the chances?!

My building could be cataloged as the largest spelunk in Boston, the place people would pass away before considering living. There was no reason in the world why Ian, a guy from a middle—  class family, should have come here.

Right here. And knocking on my door. And forget about me. And treat me like shit.

I got up from the couch I was sitting on, causing the plate to shatter on the floor. However, I cared little, the remnants of my neurons had taken another solid conclusion, and this one was not at all attractive.

I barely had time to notice the clothing that covered my body and within seconds my hands were punching door 206 down the hallway.

I looked sideways as I waited to be answered, and without even intending to, I visualized the time on the hallway wall clock.

The pointer pointed to eleven o'clock at night.

Almost dawn.

Holy shit.

It was almost dawn and I was knocking on the door of a guy I hadn't seen in four years!

What went through my head?

Regret and embarrassment punched me hard, causing me to take two steps back ready to run to my room. However, before my body could make enough movements to get away, I heard the doorknob turn.

I froze when a wet Ian, with a large hand holding the towel at his waist, saw me somewhat surprised.

Her sockets looked down at me, but I was completely paralyzed watching a drop of water slide all the way down her pectoral until it reached the stiff buds of her abdomen to worry about her judgment.

—   Wrong door? —   he questioned in a lazy voice, but all my ears understood were ringing.

—   What? —   I scratched my throat as my tone came out totally bewildered.

What the fuck was I doing there?

—  Did you knock on the wrong door?— 

Then a flashback hit my brain, awakening all the memories of two hours ago.

—   What? I'm not you!

I looked away from the wet hair dripping onto his forehead so I could reason out the words before I said them.

It was already too late for me. I needed to finish what I started.

Fuck.

—   So what do you want here?

He leaned his shoulder against the jamb, supporting the weight of his body, and then crossed his arms, leaving his biceps too tight for my breathing to be normal.

Ian was definitely a grown man now.

I realized, with the arch of his left eyebrow, that I was staring too much and that it took me longer than one person in a normal situation to answer his question.

—   I want you to apologize!

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Where are my neurons?

I said the first thing I could and stuck my nose out to pretend everything was on plan.

—   Apologies? — a hot, silent, somewhat mocking laugh came out of his throat. —   For what?

I was stunned by his disinterested and carefree expression. It was like I was too pathetic to be talking to him.

—   I don't know, Ian, maybe... See... For almost putting the door to my house down and, um, well... Maybe for acting like he didn't even remember me!

His stance changed, moved from sarcasm to a more serious and harsher one. His shoulders straightened up despite still leaning against the jamb.

—   I know you recognized me. —   I'm done. —   Bourbon didn't burn all my neurons.

Despite the somewhat awkward situation, Caccini kept his eyes fixed on mine.

—   I wouldn't forget you, Backer.

I wanted to smile. I wanted to smile because he was surrendering. And because he really remembered me.

Long minutes of silence stretched out. It didn't seem to, for in our minds distant memories surfaced.

It was like I was seeing Ian in the school hallway once again.

—   You're gone. ..  Suddenly, you're gone.

My voice came out more as a murmur than a consistent statement, bringing me back to reality.

He looked at his own feet for the first time since I stood in front of him.

—   What happened?

Sighed.

—   Life happened, Backer. — crossed his  arms over his bare pectoral, dangerously releasing the towel wrapped around his torso.

—   Why didn't you warn? Why did it just disappear? —   his silence made me continue: —   Not even my parents knew anything, you just disappeared ... One day I was talking to you and the next no one had seen you. There were so many rumors about...

I realized I was chattering when he interrupted me.

 —   It's been a long time. I have no interest in knowing those idiots' opinion of me or my family. If that's what you came here to do, you don't have to go on and on. —   I was surprised by your harsh tone.

He wasn't like that. He was cold, he was quiet, but he had never been a jerk. At least not with me as it was being now.

—   I thought I was dead. —   Although my  voice came out low because I was a little surprised by your reaction, I didn't divert my view from yours.

Ian sighed, finally stepping out of his pose. He straightened up from the jamb, stopping leaning his body on it and getting closer to me, though it wasn't intentional.

It had grown about eight inches. And because of the absence of my heels, I had to arch my head a little.

—   I didn't die, Backer! I'm alive, as you made sure of that.

My face flushed at his sentence. Clearly he had noticed my attention on his muscles.

—   Thank you very much for your concern, but I don't need it. It was good to see you.

He was going to close the door in my face. Simple as that.

Without even saying goodbye. No apologies. Without flashing a smile at the sight of an old acquaintance.

But I didn't. Not again.