The Forty-Second Night

 

This Saturday, Nick walked into my home carrying a bouquet of flowers.

“Uh—these are for you,” he said, a little awkwardly.

“Thank you, but… why? It’s not my birthday,” I replied, taking the flowers and appreciating them.

“I think I was kinda rude to you—and to your late friend—last week.”

“You weren’t. There was a sincere, honest concern for me behind everything you said. I was shocked by that truth, which I had hoped to bury so deep inside myself that no one would ever see it. You really gave me something to think about.”

He cast a brief glance at the portrait on the wall.

“You know I took a real dislike to him, right?”

“A dead man you never even met…”

“A ghost that’s still haunting you.”

“You do know how to be direct, don’t you?”

“You Brazilians are way too soft.”

“Okay,” I said, placing the flowers in a vase.

“Look,” Nick said, conciliatory now, “I think you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, and you’ve got this totally warped view of yourself because of the things that guy told you. Because of him, you pulled away from the world and hid in religion.”

He paused to catch his breath and went on:

“I know I’ve got no right to step into your private life, and I don’t doubt the sincerity of your faith. But it honestly hurts to see how crushed you still are by that experience.”

Another pause, and then he spoke again:

“I promise I won’t bring this up anymore. I’d just… I’d really like to prove that guy was wrong about you.”

I didn’t want to continue that conversation; it disturbed me far too much. I told myself Nick had no chance. Lowering my guard would only leave me open to more unwanted—and inevitable—blows.

I was honestly surprised by how easily he’d managed to reach so deep into my soul. I clearly wasn’t the master of disguises I fancied myself to be, and he was not as naïve as he seemed, despite his youthful temperament.

Still, I resolved to be as honest as possible. Beyond the accumulated poison of years, what did I truly feel? What could be an honest answer on my part?

I embraced him—tight, strong, and as truthfully as I could—kissed him on the cheek and said:

“You are the greatest gift God has given me in this life. I don’t know if it’s possible to purge the ghost of the departed from within me, but perhaps we can at least restrain his influence.”

“I’m not asking for anything more,” he said, wearing that beautiful smile of his.