Keenan felt the time to share his past. He wanted to tell this amazing woman why he was so bitter and silent. He liked her. She could light up an entire nightclub by her own. She loved an ugly cat with only one eye. She…he would stop to think about her, he was a young man, with a cold destroyed heart, incapable of loving anyone. Especially loving her. He was terrified at the idea. They went from the noisy Mayan to a quieter place, the blue rooms. They sat down at an empty table, with fair distance to the jazz music and quiet enough for talking. She had her dry vodka martini with three olives, he his coke. She was the one that talked first. He let her because he knew she liked the have the first word.

"So let me take a stab at human story, you had a great love, a romance of your life time, totally cosmic, out of this world bond with little miss X. And she left you."

"You're not far off." The first part, at least. Sarah was something special, he had known it from the first meeting. Pretty, smart and always positive, she had always known his weaknesses and the how to make him smile. He was not as he was now. He had laughed a lot. He studied at the university, law essentially. He had wanted to be a lawyer. She was a waitress at his favourite café. It was love at first sight. He had loved her unconditionally, naturally, without any scruples.

" People get over this things, Keenan. I'm getting over this things all the time." How she could be so special? Why did she have that I don't? Joan was jealous. He seemed to value her highly. She couldn't understand why. Was one girl so hard to forget?

"Well, it can only be once for me," confessed Keenan with melancholy. No one could be superior to her. She had been his everything.

"You're sweet to believe things so absolutely but you're also full of shit." Joan smiled playfully. "You can love again." You can love me, was her actual meaning. I'm right here! She left you. I will be here for you. But once again, she didn't say anything. She has hidden herself behind a mask of good humour.

" No. I can't. Any more than you…" he didn't finish the phrase. He had wanted to show her how he felt. He knew this was the only way to make her understand. But he stopped himself.

"Any more than I can't what?" asked she while swallowed her mouthful of her cocktail.

" I don't know. Any more than you can stop drinking." As soon as he said what, she stopped herself and out of her mouth came the vodka martini. She also "accidentally" dropped her glass. She smiled at Keenan to show the importance of her act. A waiter hurried to pick up the pieces of glass.

"Should I get you another one? Gin-martini, right?" excused he, as he was he who had dropped the glass.

"Vodka, "corrected she, "but I'm really had enough."

"I insist." persisted the waiter. Joan felt her irritation rising. She wanted to be alone with Keenan. She had just made something serious, she had stopped drinking, from now one, she won't drink a single drop of alcohol and that thanks, to Keenan. She felt good, powerful, even if Keenan had the power since he had practically said that she drank too much. Keenan was surprised. She was really obstinate! But it was good for her, to stop drinking.

"Look, pal, this is not, and I don't mean this affectionately-scram!" The waiter was quickly gone and she turned back to Keenan. "Where were we? Oh yes! I have just given up alcohol and you are going to tell me of the greatest love of your life."

"Her name was Sarah," began he.

"And she was your first?"

"Yes." She was very jealous now. Why couldn't he let go? Her first love was Jake Callaghan. She was 15 and she had given him her virginity in her bedroom one night. She had of course loved him like a first love but she had gotten over with it. That Sarah wasn't worth his regrets and melancholy, she though.

"Look, it's natural to elevate our first love to some sort of mythic, emotional plateau. But you fell in love. She left you. And now you're your dealing with love most common bi-product- suicidal mad depression." She felt good to have explain things to him, now he knew what he had. This was the sentence her mother told her when she was angry with an ex. "You're dealing with love bi-product." She smiled knowingly. "Do you feel better now?"

"No," said he irritated. "It's hard to talk about," said he with more gentle tone, to excuse his harsh tone.

"I had a friend, musician, trumpet player. Really terrific. When he goes here every month or so to jam, he plays this piece I love, an old Chet Baker song. And he blows the same notes every time and every time it sounds different." Keenan nodded. "We had drinks one night-when I used to drink. And I tried to tell him how that song made me feel, how the playing made me feel, the music made me feel. And he just kept shaking his head and he said: "Joan you can't talk about music. Talking about music is liking dancing about architecture." And I said: Okay, fine, now that we are getting philosophical, that's made this it as pointless as talk about a lot of things. Love, for instance. And my friend laughed and he said: "definitely. Most definitely. Talking about love is like dancing about architecture." So I don't know, he might be right. But it ain't gonna stop me from trying."

He smiled at her obstinacy. She was really a woman that was decided. " I wish you could do that more often. Smile." Keenan's smile was like thousands suns. It made Joan's head spin like a yo-yo and her heart melt like ice cream in summer.

"So do I," said Keenan seriously. Joan began to doubt he would have another voice. The few words he said were thrown out with difficulty, like he was too painful to talk.

"So let me guess: you and wonder woman were together a year?" The green snake of jealousy were crawling in her voice.

" A year and a half," corrected he.

"And you were faithful to her?"

" Completely." How could he look at another woman when she was near, which was, almost always the case. They spent as much time as possible with each other.

"And you shared everything?" still jealous and doubtful of her goodness. He got silent and seemed to memorize something difficult. Joan regretted her question as she saw the pain in his eyes.

He finally spoke out with difficulty. "We shared everything…" he could finish his sentence.

Joan reflected a moment. She had never opened herself completely to anyone. She didn't trust any of her exes to understand and to actually talk to her about anything. The knowledge that one could say anything to the one you loved must have been truly fantastic. "This must be nice."

He nodded. " It was." He continued, still with grief in his eyes. "But, in addition to sharing these things, turned out that I was also sharing her with others." His eyes were full of tears, threatening to run down along his cheeks. " With a variety of other people." And what people, thought he with a dagger in his heart, he had regretted as long as he lived.

" I hate to do this because I don't wanna defence your feelings or anything. Sadly that happens, every day," explained Joan, thinking she had committed adultery.

"This other people also shared needles." He thought of the heartbreaking memory when he had seen her, in that hospital bed, dead because of overdose. She had hidden this from him. When he had seen her on that bed, he never had felt so suicidal in his life. He would have jumped off the window at the moment. But a strange force made him stay, made him continue. He realised now that this force would lead him to Joan. "She died last year," said he as he took away one tear from the corner of his eye. " But no before sharing a final thing with me."

Joan was deeply moved. This was more serious than she realised. Keenan didn't go trough depression, but grief and guilt also. This girl has not only left him-she had left him in the most cruel way-by dying. She loved him more than ever now; she wanted to help him, to comfort him and to say that everything was okay. But he closed himself in his shell. She had no keys to his heart. He didn't let her in.