The mystery of the crying women

Even though he and John had not known each other for that long – and definitely not for enough time to actually become friends, no matter what his acquaintance claimed –, Edgar had been invited at the other’s house on enough occasions for him to remember the exact address and how to get there without the help of a map. He reached the 13D of Confiseur Street and rang the doorbell, which produced the usual hummable, short and elegant sequence of notes, and waited.

He did not have to do that for long, however, because, not even one minute later, the wooden door opened and John’s smiling and excited face appeared. “Ed, finally!” Just for the sake of the record and general information, Edgar wanted to point out that he was perfectly on time, thank you very much. “I’m happy to see you! Come on, get in.”

Edgar… Edgar had to admit that he would have never quite understood why the other was so adamant to be his friend: the very first time they talked, at that same spot at the threshold, Edgar was the bearer of bad news and made John cry with his words alone; despite that, however, the other invited him inside and decided to speak to him when he saw him at school.

Edgar lived in a world of ghosts and greys, a world where it was always raining; nothing good ever came from staying near him, but John had never cared and Edgar, try as he might, had never understood why. John was akin to a ray of sunlight that had no reason to be there but stayed all the same, and that was probably why, after being internally surprised as always, Edgar smiled slightly and followed the other inside his aristocratic house – not before locking inside a box every single embarrassing thought he had had apropos of that and putting it away in order to open it maybe later or possibly never again –. “So, care to explain why exactly you called me here in such a hurry?”

John’s head turned and he looked at him from over his shoulder, smiling, with excitement still shining in his eyes. “Well, do you remember the family trip I told you about? The one to Mexico?”

Edgar rolled his eyes. “Yes, John, it was last week. Of course I remember about it.”

“Perfect then, because I need to show you the pictures and clips we took.”

Edgar stopped in his tracks, in the middle of a corridor, and crossed his arms over his chest. “You called me here. On a Sunday morning. When I should be studying for a test. Because of that? Who am I, your grandma?”

“Oh, come on, if you say it like that then of course that it sounds silly.” He shook his head with the air of someone who knew best. “You’ll have fun, I promise. Also, grandma Margaret says hi.”

Edgar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache incoming. “Tell her I say hi too.”

“Will do!” How could John be so cheerful, when Edgar was so miserable, was a mystery. And no, Edgar was not being dramatic, thank you very much: those were but false accusations that would go ignored as they should.

Edgar’s endless suffering aside, anyway, they resumed walking and reached the living room, full to the brim with the Smiths’ family pictures; Edgar studiously avoided looking at them, not wanting to meet Hayden’s haunting eyes, and focused on his friendly acquaintance instead, who had evidently not lost time while he was waiting, because the computer was already connected to the television through a cable and everything was ready.

He grinned and patted a spot on the sofa. “Come on, come on, sit down.”

Edgar grumpily obliged, frowning all the while just so that the other did not get strange ideas, while John got closer to the pc: he woke it from its slumber, and the first pictures appeared on the television screen, showing the most known tourist spots in Mexico City. Everything went fine when it was only monuments, buildings and works of art, but after a bit the focus shifted to street photography, and… Edgar tensed, frowning, because at that point every single clip captured a crying woman.

Edgar looked at the other, confused, and John could not hold back his Cheshire cat’s grin anymore. “So, Ed! As you can see, there’s a mystery on your hands!”

Edgar dearly hoped that his flat expression conveyed the right level of unimpressed. “And why, pray tell, would I want to deal with it.”

“Because you like mysteries!”

“I do not.”

John rolled his eyes. “Of course you do, you’re always solving them.”

Edgar threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “Yes, because otherwise the ghosts don’t leave me alone! I’d want to see you having to do with those relentless, patent, professional naggers!”

“Someone here is touchy.” Ignoring what was best for him, John smiled. “Don’t you want at least to take a guess as to why?”

Despite himself, Edgar started actually thinking about it, unconsciously bringing his hand to his mouth. It probably was not a ghost, since people could not usually see them and there were no objects flying around in the background of the videos; it could have been street harassment, but if that was the case John would have intervened, forget continuing to take pictures and smiling, so what… He was analysing all the details common to the clips, when an idea suddenly popped into his head and he snapped his fingers. “It was something in the air.”

The other stared at him for a few instants, but then he burst out laughing. “Yeah, exactly! A lot of street vendors were cooking onions for a food competition or something. How did you figure?”

Edgar smiled victoriously. “No-one seemed actually sad, and in the background I saw that everyone had tears in their eyes. It was a lucky guess.”

“Still! Good job, detective.”

Edgar rolled his eyes. “I’m not a detective.”

“Whatever you say. Since you got it right, however, you can choose a film to watch.”

He had to hold back a smile. “Even one of those ‘boring ones’ I like?”

“Sure, sure, even one of those.”

And there went his studying for the test. Oh, well. Edgar had already revised a bit and it was a subject he liked, so he supposed that, just for that one time, it was fine. Most importantly, John was happy, when just a few months back he was withdrawn and sad.

Edgar ventured a glance at one of Hayden’s pictures and breathed deeply. Despite everything, their present was still bright.