After a few days we had spent together I could not but admire him. I wished I could grow old like him, optimistic and happy despite an uncertain future. I could not find a ounce of envy, malice, bitterness or some other bad traits in his character. He was not one of those people who use to keep a mask and never dare to speak about their feelings, fears and doubts. On the contrary, every day I discovered something new about him and his experiences. We laughed together when he told me how he had sex with his neighbour while her husband went fishing and how he often met him on the street a few hours later carrying bags bursting with fish, beaming with satisfaction. He was eager to show her his catch, but at the same time ignorant that during his absence she was moaning with pleasure and shouted, "Faster, faster!"
Another time I listened to him in awe while he told me about his relationship he had with a widow. Whenever they had sexual intercourse the woman was like bewitched and like in an ecstasy shouted the name of her dead husband. Later, when he asked her about that she answered that she did not remember anything. But he could not enjoy sex with her afterwards knowing that in her bed she did not see him but some other man.
He was a person whom one cannot forget as long as one lives because he never caused any harm, never hurt a person. Instead, he was a saviour for many women, helping them to keep their passions still alive in the face of old age.
Despite the sunny morning a nagging doubt appeared in my mind. What was going to happen if my operation did fail? It was my last chance to finally begin living a normal life like all other people. Would I ever be able to sit among other customers at a pavement café and drink my beer without thinking of the dark wet marks which started to appear under my armpits and spread rapidly over the rest of my body? Would I ever be able to dance with a girl and not feel fear because of the stench of my own sweat which was pouring like an endless flood? If the operation did succed I was going to be a phoenix, shining brightly like a precious stone but if it failed I was doomed to withering away in my flat the rest of my life.
His children stormed into the room, armed with mobile phones, lap tops and brief cases. They looked like hectic business people who are in the constant lack of time. My eyes fell on their black polished shoes which reflected fluorescent light from above. The daughter was a woman in her forties with her thick red hair tied in a pony tail. There were fine wrinkles around her eyes and lips. She was tall, slim and dressed in a dark suit. The scent of some expensive perfume lingered around her, heightening her elegance. The son was some years younger and impecably dressed like his sister in a dark suit and a white shirt. His face was newly shaved and smelled aftershave. His auburn hair was short and glistnening.
They both gave me a furtive glance, said curtly "Hello" and turned to their father. They hugged him friendly but without any excessive affection. It seemed to me that their businesslike manners were impossible to put aside even when dealing with their own family.
To be continued...