Nilo sits down beside me. He’s smoking a cigarette and I have a craving for one that I fight because I quit a year ago. At times like this the idea of being through, finished with cigarettes doesn’t seem real. “Want one, pare?” Nilo asks.
“Son of a b***h,” I say and he laughs. He knows I quit.
“Where’s Soly?” he asks.
“Her parents had a party for her.”
“Oh. Is she going to pass by here?”
“No. I already went to their place for a while.” I wish he’d finish with his cigarette. It’s almost short enough to burn his fingers.
“So have your parents met her yet?”
“We’re not getting married,” I say irritably. I watch him blow his last mouthful of smoke and stub out the cigarette.
“Oh, you’re not?” His eyebrows are raised, teasing.
“I mean not yet. Maybe. We haven’t talked about it.”
“And w
