RED: A Love Story [Featured List]

Part 1: White 15 - Afterhours

"Can we talk?"

Marco's voice was hard. His eyes, mercurial. Marisa assented mutely while Ariela stepped back and looked at him with curiosity. Marco pulled the tab from under Marisa's glass and suggested they go to a quieter place. Still under the bear's drumming, he paid for the check and exited the bar towing her by the hand.

Marco barely glanced at her as he climbed onto the Ducati parked across the street. Handing Marisa the helmet, he waited for her to mount and took off without as much as a word. She felt the cool wind on her face and his taut muscles against her body as they sped up along empty streets with a sucession of buildings and intermittent lights.

He rode faster than usual and the trip was a short one. Marco's silence made her increasingly uncomfortable. When they entered the apartment, he moved straight to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of mineral water. He offered her one and emptied half of the other in one draught.

Then Marco sat on the sofa with one ankle resting on his knee and one arm stretched over the back rest. He stared at Marisa for the first time since the two had left the bar.

"Are you gonna stand there? Why don't you sit down?"

Each word transpired aggravation. She agreed and settled for the other end of the sofa with all dignity, all the while repeating to herself she was free to do as she pleased. Marco had no say about it. If anyone there owed an explanation, it was him. The jerk.

After a pause, Marco inquired what she was doing at the bar. Marisa shrugged. The quarrel began.

It's none of your business. I'm not allowed to ask a simple question? You didn't answer my question, why should I answer yours? Marisa, enough of that. What do you think people do in bars? Who was that girl? A friend. Since when do you kiss your girlfriends on the mouth? Since I turned single.

The two had reached a crossroad. At that point, they could take the path of mutual accusations, dig trenches and unearth resentments. It was a wide path. As they walked it the distance between them would broaden, as would their deafness. Until they lost sight of each other, under the belief that being right was more important than being in harmony. And so each one would keep going on the opposite margin of the road, clinging to their own truth. Flawed, incomplete, human truth.

Marco and Marisa vacillated and, in silence, stared at each other. Her irises burnt with an amber tinge, as if a flame throbbed behind the retina. His were even darker, circled by bloodshot white. Marco let out a sigh.

"I don't own you neither I believe in cages, Marisa," Marco said with a sigh. "I respect your decisions. You should go for what suits you best, but with consciousness, for a legitimate reason. Not out of anger."

"Who said I didn't have a legitimate reason?" She jutted out her chin. "You're so fond of your games and now want to play the moralist?"

"This has nothing to do with morals. Exploring your sexuality is not a problem as long as no one gets harmed. You acted without thinking."

"Marco, just forget the lecture. I'm not interested."

He looked sideways at the wooden floor, drumming his fingers on the sofa back rest. Then he stared at her again.

"If you keep throwing stones, we'll never come to an agreement. Is that what you want?"

"You don't have to worry about your professional reputation," she assured in a calm tone, contradicted by the flash in her eyes. "I'm not reporting you to the school board. All I want is to forget what happened between us. Soon I'm gonna graduate and I'll never have to see you again-"