That Fucking Hat

“Hey. Can we talk in private for a sec?” Hazmatic said.

They didn’t use their real names down here.

“Yeah sure man.” I said as we stepped into the shadows.

It wasn’t hard to find shadows in this place. The illegal catacombs felt like a web and Hazmatic explained the earth of Paris is like swiss cheese – holes and tunnels everywhere.

This place was pure darkness and silence, only people could make it bright and make it talk. And it loved to talk.

“There’s this guy. She’s talking to him at the moment. Over there.”

“She?” I said but I knew the answer.

“Sand.” He gestured towards his girl. Down here that was her name.

“Right.” I replied. I understood as I looked across the room, the cavern.

People were scattered across it, huddled and talking, drinking. Candles around the room – a cheap light source that lasted.

My eyes scanned for her sandy blonde hair and I struggled. But then I found her. I saw the ends of her hair, spilling out from underneath something new. A hat she now wore. An unexpected hat.

So there in the middle of those cataphiles was Hazmatic’s girl. She sat and spoke close to another guy. Bald, hipster moustache and wearing goddamn 1920’s style pants with suspenders for fuck’s sake. They were both leaning in.

“He is always talking to her when she comes down and like, they’ve hung out before and he never made a move apparently. And now she’s with me but… she spends time with him and I don’t want to be jealous but…”

“Right…”

“Anyway… it just… it triggers me.” He revealed.

I wanted to understand. I wanted to help him. “Why?” I asked.

“‘Cause… a long time ago there was this thing that happened with another girl. She fucked with my head. And, I… I don’t know what to do. I want to be cool about it y’know? But you see, see that hat she’s wearing?”

That fucking hat. It had an old time vibe. Circa 1920’s…

“Yeah?” But I already knew the answer.

“That’s his fucking hat. He just put it on her. And she let him. Y’know?”

“Got it.”

I saw the fear in his eyes. I gave him some advice. My own memories of when I’d been like him – and my memories of when I’d been the other guy too. The fear and the fantasy were two sides of the same coin.

“What if we tell her I want to leave? I can’t find my way without you. It can be an excuse?” I suggested. I wanted to help him.

His eyes flicked around the room, “Yeah… Okay. Yeah. Let’s do that. Give me a minute.”

Hazmatic began his goodbyes and I watched the girl as I waited.

She stood up and then moved behind the gentleman from the 1920’s. And while he spoke to another man, I watched her begin to lightly tap his bald head with her fingers. Even I was feeling triggered. I knew it was better that he didn’t see this.

She stopped in the nick of time as Hazmatic turned and approached them.

They spoke and the gentleman ignored them. There was push and pull. I was waved over and as I approached, the kind man and the gentleman spoke together. I looked at Sand and smiled.

I leaned in to her ear, “That’s a nice hat.”

“Oh thanks. Actually, it’s not mine. It’s his.”

Slowly I turned my eyes to him and added softly, “Ah yes… Makes sense.”

My gaze turned back to her. I still stayed close as I looked right into her eyes.

A moment longer and she would’ve understood. In the silence, the catacombs had begun to talk.

“Let’s go?” Hazmatic interrupted the shadows.

The hat was returned and we escaped into the tunnels. There was nothing to talk about now.

At a junction, Sand paused us and took another path. I looked at Hazmatic and he answered my unspoken question, “Toilets. I mean, the closest thing to it at least.”

We waited for her and then a new light emerged from our previous path. The hatted man joined us.

He and Hazmatic played it cool.

He looked at me, “Who’s this?” the man with a hat said.

“He’s a tourist,” Hazmatic explained.

“Ah, un homme sans nom.”

“I have a name.” I said, “You just don’t know it yet.”

His eyebrows rose briefly with surprise and he reassessed me.

The girl came back from the shadows. I knew he knew she would be here.

They formed a different kind of trio and had one last conversation in the darkness. One last push and pull.

I wanted to help him… but I already knew this story. There are some lessons which cannot be taught and thus cannot be learned either.

They can only be realised.

Sometimes, on our own – in the dark.

After the final farewells, Hazmatic led the way and I watched Sand stick close to him. He walked confidently now – for he knew these tunnels and his mastery of them gave him strength.

As she followed him, she almost danced. And in the warm glow of their lights I saw her more clearly – a sandstorm.

I followed for a few seconds, stopped myself and then looked back over my shoulder as I saw that fucking hat return to the shadow.