I was walking along a back-street near my apartment on Calle Azafran in old downtown Seville when I met up with a teenage boy smoking a fat joint. He stopped me and asked me what time it was. He asked me if I wanted a smoke, and I accepted. He talked about how much hashish he'd put in that one joint. Of course, he had some for sale. I don't remember whether I was interested in buying. I do know that he talked his way back to my house.
Abel was openly casing the place for robbery, saying he was looking for the toilet. Marie would have skewered me. But she wasn't home, and I just pulled the door shut.
Jan was home. I carefully whisked Abel away, suggesting we go to the rooftop terrace. I was embarrassed by him, and wanted just to get him away from the flat. On the terrace, Abel and I sat in the two chairs that myself and a friend had brought up there along with a small table.
I think he showed me some hash. It was a fine day weatherwise, I remember that. And I remember Abel asking me if I masturbate. Then he asked me if I wanted to. No, I said. Why not, he asked. I told him to go away, and he did. But I sat there for a while, and it didn't seem right; too easy, maybe. And sure enough, Abel had returned to the apartment. He was sitting on the couch, talking to Jan. Fortunately, Jan thought it was quite funny.
Jan, unlike myself, spoke fluent Spanish. Abel, no man to forgo an opportunity, had given Jan the full offer. I quickly shooed Abel away as soon as I got back to the apartment. He left, like the little pest that he was. Later, my friend Eugenia was over, and we were laughing about it with Jan. Oh, my Jesus.
