Finding You. | BRUNOL & SIMUEL

Part 13: Pol

Manuel walks back to me. With both his hands resting on his hips, he mumbles something in Italian and shakes his head.

"What happened?" I ask.

"The security guard hates me," he says.

"But where is your friend?"

He glares back at the security guard who's just arrogantly smiling back at him. "My friend is busy with his work. Eh that, erm, asshole won't call him." Manuel kicks a pebble on the ground and gets his phone from his pocket. He tries to turn it on but it won't. It's completely broken. He shows the phone to me and just sighs. "Cazzo!" he exclaims. What? Do Italians yell 'good luck' when they're upset? They probably don't.

"Did Matteo reply to your message on Facebook?" he asks. I check my phone. Nothing. He hasn't even seen the message. I show Manuel my phone. He scratches his head out of frustration.

I think.

I walk to the security guard. "Señor," I say. "Hello. I am from Spain. My name is Pol."

The security guard shakes his head and proceeds to speak in Italian. I only understand him saying 'no'. He says it about five times.

I look at Manuel. "What did he say?"

"He says that I am...er...not allowed in the theater."

"What did you do?"

"I punch him," Manuel says. We both look at the security guard. Think Pol. How do we get past this asshole? I start coughing and act like I'm too weak to stand up. Manuel helps me stay balanced. "Are you okay?" he asks. The security guard notices and says something to Manuel.

"Tell him I have HIV and I want to go to the theater before I die." I say just loud enough for Manuel to hear.

"What? Are you serious?" he asks.

I nod. "Go," I tell him. I look through my phone and find the picture of my HIV diagnosis. Hope this fucker falls for it. I mean, I'm technically not even lying. I have HIV. Truth. And everyday we're all getting closer to our deaths. Truth. Manuel starts translating what I said to the security guard. He responds.

Manuel looks at me and shakes his head. "He said that I'm a liar."

I shakily show the security guard my diagnosis and my photos in the hospital. Manuel also looks at them. He points to the photo as he tells the security guard something. He also gestures to himself a lot. The security guard looks at me now with concern. "What did you said?" I ask Manuel.

"I said that I am here to help you because you are too weak." Good Manuel. Good. I pretend to cough again.

The security tells Manuel something. This time, a bit more calmly. Manuel smiles and looks at me. It worked. The security guard lets us into the building; a huge smile on his face. Manuel continues to pretend supporting me as we walk through the door. The security guard says something. "He said that thank you and he will pray for you," Manuel says trying to hold his laughter in. I look away from him, trying to keep myself from laughing along with him. We spot the poster for the show by the ticketing booth. Manuel reads it. But I don't even wait for him to translate. I just read the names right away; actively looking for Bruno's name.

"This is correct. This is the Spanish ballet," Manuel says. That's good. Fuck. Please be here. Please Bruno. I continue looking through the list of long names. It's a long one. I assume it's probably everyone involved in the production. Manuel realizes what I'm doing and starts looking for Bruno too. "Churro."