SUNGLASSES AND ROCKETS Part 1 : New Moon

THE DATE

On the way over, insecurity started its assault on me. I kept thinking about the doctor's basement, that underground workshop. Rather, I went back and forth from one to another of hundreds of contradictory hypotheses, without deciding on any one of them. Why had the doctor never told us about it? Perhaps he had simply left it out since there was nothing out of the ordinary in the place, apart from all the paperwork...But then, why were the documents marked with that top secret stamp? What could be the reason for storing that kind of information? Was the doctor hiding something? If so, Moses Masterton was probably a...

Suddenly a lovely house appeared before my eyes. I was so lost in thought that, without having noticed it, I had crossed 33rd Street after going over Wisconsin Avenue. A wooden swing in the garden and some white benches on the porch gave it an elegant country-manor air. I slowed down a bit and checked the address. It's Vanessa's house, I told myself excitedly, and suddenly my detective-like musings about the doctor's mysterious basement disappeared into thin air.

I parked the car. I looked at my watch: it was nine thirty-five. I breathed deeply and got out of the vehicle. I should maintain a casual, aloof attitude about me and carry myself like a ladies' man.

As I got closer, my knees started to shake. I patted my shirt pocket to make sure that the glasses were still there; they were. I went up to the door. I inhaled deeply, again and again. I rotated my head around, like boxers usually do to relieve tension in their neck muscles. I began to breathe again, and I rang the bell. Just then I noticed huge dust stains on my shirt. Before I could start to brush them off, the door opened.

"Good evening," a friendly, forty-ish woman greeted me.

It had to be Vanessa's aunt. I cleared my throat.

"Good evening. My name is Gordo,"—I paused and asked, a bit embarrassed, "Is Vanessa here?"

"Come in, Gordo," the woman said, in a motherly tone.

She walked swiftly to the stairs that were on one side of the hallway.

"Vanessa!" she called, raising her voice, "Vanessa!"

That name always made my stomach do somersaults, not to mention the jitters that it caused through the rest of my being. The woman came back and, with a cordial gesture, invited me into the living room.

"Sit down, Gordo. Vanessa will be right here. You have to excuse me, but I can't stay here with you," she smiled affectionately, "I'm watching a cake in the oven."

"Of course!" I responded nervously. "Thanks. Thanks. Thanks."

I sat down carefully on the main sofa and made myself comfortable in a good place to keep watch on the stairs.

A few minutes passed.

I took advantage of the chance to shake off the dust, or whatever it was: large amounts of it landed on the sofa and carpet. In the meantime, my mind went blank. I couldn't come up with any compliments. The only thing I remembered to do was to breathe, which I did in half-gasps.

I touched my shirt pocket again. What luck. The I.K.Y. was still there!

Suddenly, a pleasing feminine scent filled the air. I looked towards the staircase again. Oh God! Two shapely calfs appeared; my heart leaped. I kept my gaze on the graceful descent of the muse that had bewitched me. As she finished coming down the stairs, I noticed that she was wearing a clingy black skirt and a small pink blouse. Her lovely brown hair fell over her shoulders. Oh my God! She looked like she was going to a party!

Merry Christmas, I whispered, spellbound. The muse saw me.

"Hi!"

"Hi!"