thing.â Marcoâs eyes came to rest on a photograph hanging on the wall behind the computers. It was of an elderly woman knitting. âDo you remember 2011?â
âYes.â Alex smiled sadly. âI remember it clearly.â
âIf it hadnât been for you during my depression, Iâd never have made it. My grandmotherâs death nearly finished me off. She was like a second mother to me.â
âI know.â
âIâll never forget that year as long as I live. Three thousand euros donât even count for a tiny fraction of what you did for me.â
8
In her room with her door shut, her iPod perched on her desk and an oversized pair of Sennheiser headphones clamped over her long brown hair, Jennifer Graver spent half the morning doing web searches. She wanted to put herself in Alexâs shoes, trying to understand just what challenges he would be facing in order to come and see her.
Heâd have to take an aeroplane, travel halfway around the world, find a hotel for the night, and hope that when he woke up in the morning his dream would actually become a reality. Jenny was happy that he had decided to set off on this journey. Her parents would never have let her go. For a moment, she did her best to imagine Alexâs family, his world, his life â all the things that surrounded the face sheâd been able to see for a few moments during their last conversation.
Then she shut her eyes and listened again to the last words heâd said to her.
Youâre the best dream Iâve ever had in my life.
Iâve never experienced anything like this.
I want to see you, even if I have to go around the world to do it.
Those words had warmed her heart for the past few days, consoling her as she waited for the moment that, she hoped, would change her life forever.
When Clara shouted her name from the ground floor of their suburban house, she didnât even hear her. Right then, the chorus of the Smashing Pumpkinsâ â1979â was insulating her from the rest of the world. Jennyâs eyes wandered, dreamy and lost, over the pages of her diary as she sang along under her breath. Sheâd thought about that song a lot, musing the sad words Billy Corgan used to describe his rebellious adolescence.
Her mother came up the stairs and rushed into Jennyâs bedroom just as she was putting on her windcheater.
âDarling, youâre always wearing those headphones,â she said as Jenny zipped up her jacket.
âWhat is it?â
âThe supermarket! You said youâd come with me.â
Jenny nodded as she took off the headphones and straightened her hair.
âOh, by the way, theyâre saying itâs going to rain,â Clara remarked, hurrying out of the bedroom. Jenny finished writing down the date of her last encounter with Alex in her diary, shut the cover, and stood up.
Jennyâs diary documented her relationship with Alex, dating all the way back to 2010. Each and every episode was noted inside what was really just a ring binder, always ready to record her thoughts. Those thoughts poured forth chaotically onto the lined pages, hungry for some kind of order. It was a treasure trove of secrets, available to her and her alone.
No one else knew about Alex.
Jenny had always guarded this secret. She felt it belonged only to her, like a special gift: she was protective of it and kept it close. Moreover, lately she had stopped fainting and their communication had become easier, and certainly less painful. All these changes allowed her to better protect what was turning into a genuine relationship.
In her diary, Jenny asked herself countless questions. Who was this boy? Was he a hallucination? An imaginary friend? Was it possible to fall in love with a feeling? At first, she had refused to believe in such an absurd idea, a long-distance relationship like that, but the more time passed, the more she needed to somehow be