Luis Fernando Alcántar Romero
I was already waiting to hear The Bangles. I wanted them to play “Hazy Shade of Winter,” a song they sometimes perform at their concerts. I arrived at the bar and it was already crowded. In the distance, I saw a woman with black hair, a white t-shirt with “Tom Waits” printed on it, and a leather jacket that matched her eyes. She seemed vaguely familiar. She had a carefree expression, skin like milk that seemed to blend with the lights of the place.
She was smoking and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Then I recognized her: Winona Ryder. I had a few beers while Susana Hoffs sang “Manic Monday”. By that time, my gaze was shifting from the stage to W, amidst the sweaty crowd swaying to the rhythm of the music and nocturnal longings (could she be mine?).
Then I went to get more beer, and I saw that Winona was looking for something in her jacket pocket. She threw away an empty cigarette pack.
Nobody would deny her a cigarette, I thought. I knew that this was my moment to exchange two or three words. Or try to make her laugh, yes, that was enough for me. I approached and “Hazy Shade of Winter” was already playing! I felt clumsy and couldn’t hear anything clearly, I could only make out the echo of trapped voices. I took out my pack of cigarettes, I only had one left: the one cartridge that could make a difference. I was almost by her side, I took the cigarette in my hand and waved it in the air. She saw me and made a gesture that was utterly indecipherable.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello,” she replied.
I handed her the cigarette, I asked her:
“What’s your favorite song by The Bangles?”
Then she started dancing “Walk Like an Egyptian”: one hand forward and the other back, forming a square with open palms as she moved her head from side to side. I smiled.
“Thanks,” I think I mumbled as I returned to my place. I looked at her again and she gave me a radiant smile at a distance. She danced like an Egyptian again, and she didn’t stop smiling.
Luis Fernando Alcántar
Born in León, Guanajuato in 1987. Cultural journalist and a writer. Co-author of Cuentos para romper espejos (Ediciones Periféricas / Ediciones La Rana, 2019) and Cuentos para romper espejos Vol. II (Ediciones Periféricas, 2023). He regularly publishes in Avenida Digital 3.0, Soy Barrio, Culturamas, Paniko.cl. He was a member of of the seminar on cultural journalism “María Luisa Mendoza” of the Fondo Para las Letras Guanajuatenses (2022). He has led several workshops on journalism and creative writing.
