There was an odd reassurance in knowing he could’ve stood on the street all night and still not caught a glimpse of Luis. That if Luis had been home, he’d never have known Paolo’s madness. But then, he was a perceptive motherfucker. Perhaps he’d have taken one look at Paolo the next day and figured it out.
Luis unlocked the door at the end of the hallway and waved Paolo into a tiny bedsit that was spotlessly clean.
And empty. Only a small divan bed took up the corner of the main room, neatly made with blue sheets. The bag Luis had carried when he’d first drifted into the cafe was in the corner, open with a small stack of clean clothes. There was nothing else, no TV, stereo, or furniture, just a storage heater that looked a hundred years old.
Through another door was a kitchen area with a single-ring hob, a fridge, and a toaster. Paolo frowned. “Where’s your washing machine?”
“In the bathroom.”
“What?”
“It’s in the bathroom,” Luis repeated. “Go look if you don’t believe me.”
Paolo looked, and when he saw the washing machine tucked in next to the shower, he laughed. “Wow. That’s as good a use of space if I’ve ever seen it. Does it work?”
“Yeah, it’s noisy as fuck, though. So I don’t use it at night.”
Paolo turned his back on the bizarre bathroom and re-joined Luis in his kitchen. There was a pot on the stove. “What’s in there?”
“Beans.”
“What kind of beans?”
“Kidney beans, with chilli sauce and bacon.”
“Show me?”
“Erm, okay.” Luis lifted the lid of the pot. Deep red beans were sitting in a fiery sauce of tomatoes, chilli flakes, and sautéed bacon. It was as good a dinner as Paolo had ever seen, and his empty belly rumbled.
Luis laughed. “Hungry?”
“Of course. I’m Italian and I haven’t eaten for more than an hour.”
Luis had bread and a tub of butter. He ladled his bean concoction into two mugs and passed Paolo a spoon. “Sorry, I only had one fork, and I broke it fixing the fuse box.”
“I’m filing that away for the next time something blows at the cafe.” Paolo followed Luis out of the kitchen and sat opposite him, cross legged, on the floor.
The beans were good... so good, Paolo finished his in ten seconds flat and sat back against the wall while Luis ate. “This place isn’t so bad.”
Luis snorted around a mouthful of bread. “It’s not the worst place I’ve ever slept, but I wouldn’t call it home.”
“Not planning on staying then?”
“I can make all the plans I like. Doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere.”
“I know that feeling.”
“Where would you want to go?”
Paolo sighed. “Dunno. Never stopped to think about it.”
“Because of your grandparents?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s me. Running the cafe meant I never had to make any choices about my future, so I don’t have any dreams.”
Luis ate the last of his beans and set the mug on the floor. “I’ve never had any either. When I was running for Dante, making it to the next day was all I was aiming for, and inside, time just stops, you know? I didn’t even care that much about getting out.”
“For real?”
