Time is never right for things like this. For people like us. For meets of this sort.
Better than never. For the friendship I believed in. For the blog stories to continue.
Friday, Hamburg Airport
The airport hectic distracted her.
Promoters were selling goods, approaching with flyers. Loud laughter in the café kitchen, the staff were having fun. Her orange juice stood in front of her, unfinished, close to her blog diary. One more sweet sip.
Dream! Focus! Open the portal!
I am in another reality now. Even better. I am in a parallelly existing, never ending wonder world, where common place miracles happen and adventures lure to make you the main hero of the story.
Where bold guys are all Blaines.
Where Tiger is a brave punch-today-in-the-face leader, waiting for his angel to return.
Where you land in Lisbon, and the taxi takes you to Graca. Where, upon arrival, your heart gets filled with excitement, tickling your finger tips, where you can revisit places and relive memories, and where you have at least 72 hours to go on a new date with the city. Where you shape reality into a wonderful adventure. This is where the energy source is hidden. This is where Bane all of a sudden gets to know you are in Lisbon and welcomes you in his realm.
Wednesday afternoon, Lisboa
I stood and the hub entrance, waiting.
"Have you booked a taxi?" My tutor addressed me.
"No, I have a prior engagement."
It must have sound like still-waters-are-deep, as he said: "Wow, that sounds secretive."
"It is," I laughed.
Raising his eye-brows, he joked: "I am thrilled!" Pause. "And I have plenty of time." Expressional pause. Damn it!
Not sure, whether by chance or on purpose, he actually ended up waiting and watching me being picked up.
Black Leon arrived at the gate. Biker outfit, sunglasses on, he exited the car and opened the boot first.
"Bane," I said, approaching him. It was like we saw each other yesterday.
I left the tutor standing there #shutyourjaw.
A two-cheek-kiss and he helped me get into the car. Off we went.
We arrived at our destination. He stopped the engine and grabbed his phone.
Having failed to shazam the tune on the radio and before I knew it, Bane was showing me the way to the club.
It smelled of cigarettes inside, and I liked it. The was a bar counter, and a baseball cap that looked familiar and I liked it. Bane showed me around the place and I liked it.
Decoration like badges, windowsill scenery, scull shots at the bar, whiskey bottles, requisites, posters and quotes spoke about the members and the soul of the club. Bane was pointing out his work and final touches of the interior. The rest, like him in a group of people on the pictures, or the passion in his voice, I noticed by myself.
"My second home," Bane concluded.
In a ceramic bica, I got my espresso served. "Suicide," he commented the way I was drinking my coffee: no sugar, no milk.
Making myself comfy on the bar stool, I was watching Bane, standing behind the counter.
Next moment, we stroke a conversation.
Being there with Bane seemed unreal and it was like diving into the secret world - the wondrous parallel reality that we both were creating, we both saw, knew about and both actively acted in.
When Bane was asking about me or returning questions, I was restrictive with the stories about myself. The truth was, I did not want to take focus off Bane. Focus. Absorb.
"Are you married?"
"Remind me or send a note you did it," - whilst I was staring at him, he added - "What? I am serious. I am happy for you!"
He lighted a cigarette, whilst I shook my head: "Tiger does not know about you or the blog. It is only you who knows (it all)." I tried to make the privilege clear. Even though Bane went and took the privilege himself last year (read how he did it).
"Bane, remember the chapel you showed me first night?"
I nodded. "Was the nata place on the same street?"
"Around the corner. Why? Were you there?" He smiled.
"I know you! And that's what I like about you - your determination!" He kept smiling and I thankfully smiled back.
The time went on.
"Do you love her?" I asked Bane, who started checking the traffic situation on the map before taking me to the airport.
"I hate her," he put down his phone and lit another cigarette.
He inhaled one more time and mumbled with a cig between his lips: "We can go."
Whatever he told me about his ex put me into an uncontrolled smack-that-(insert expletive!)-in-her-face state. As he was describing the stages of the break up, I bitterly listened and kept my thoughts to myself.
As he drove and cursed the traffic, I trusted he'd get me there on time. "Do not put it on the blog," he looked at me.
"I will put something on the blog," I countered.
"Then invent something like Marvel or so." He suggested.
In any case, we were creating the story there and then. Scarlett and Bane, laughing heartfully and resembling old memories, enriching them with new experiences, sharing this secret.
"Next time you come, do it in June and let me know!", he ordered hugging me good-bye. "I'll take you new places."
Even though you say "friends do not have to thank", I thank you Bane, for what you give me and how I feel around you.