Backflash: Nicola (part II)

Somehow, we never got physical. Everyone thought we were together, even more when they saw us dancing at night, but it was purely platonic. Today, 8 years later, I think he controlled himself, knowing that I was too young and I had to go back to Italy sooner or later.

The night when I realized how much we were involved, it happened dramatically. I was feeling sexy, and I had been dancing on the higher platform of the club for half an hour or so (the manager gave me as many free drinks as I wanted, if I did), and I just had come down to dance with Nicola when someone suddenly grabbed me by my hair and pulled me in the middle of a fight. People were pulling me everywhere, I did not touch the ground and I was screaming as loud as I could. Suddenly, in a flash of light, I saw him coming, pushing his way into the crowd, where the guys of the security were struggling to divide people. He got me in the arms, just like the Bodyguard with Whitney Houston in the film, and headed to stairs to the privés. When we were almost out of it, a guy faced him and punched him twice in the eyes. As he was holding me, he couldn’t protect himself, but never for a second did he let me go. He ran outside and got straight into the pub facing the club. Only there, he let me down asking if I was all right. I was shaking in terror, and we asked for two whiskeys and beers, and some ice for his eyes.

That night, I realized how strong our boundaries were. On the following day, he had two bad black eyes, one of them completely closed. When I tried to thank him, he said he was sorry he couldn’t get me sooner, and not to worry (definitely it wasn’t the first time he got black eyes!!).

Time went by quickly after that, and soon it was time for me to go back to Italy. We spent one last night dancing in each others arms, and then I had to let him go.

What I did not know at the time was that I wouldn’t have come back to that place, at least I haven’t ‘till now. Nicola and I kept in contact, for some two years or so we had a phone “rendez-vous” each Sunday. Meanwhile he had moved to Argentina, first, and to Brazil, later.
We both lived our lives and everything, but deep inside I felt like we were meant for each other.

Until one day, he disappeared. For more than two months I tried to reach him at the last number I had, but I couldn’t reach him.