His name was Diego and he told me that he was 18, although he seemed to be much younger (but was I going to complain?).

I asked him if he wanted to go anywhere in particular, and he said he didn't mind but he thought everywhere would be closed at that hour.

In fact we didn't find anywhere open, so we went to stock up at a 24-hour store where we bought beer and cigarettes.

Then he said we could go to a quiet spot he knew.

It was a little far, but what wouldn't I do to spend longer with him? While we drove and talked, I tried to get a look at him. He was quite tall and very thin, with a dark skin, and the shape of his eyes suggested he may have a bit of gypsy blood. He talked so quietly that I could hardly hear him above the noise of the engine. But what captivated me was his smile: a broad grin that lit up the whole of his face.

He laughed when I told him he had a beautiful smile and that I liked to see it. And as we drove and chatted, I couldn't help thinking that I was very lucky to have met him and that maybe, at long last, I was going to be happy again.

I know what you're thinking, dear reader! But no, I'm not so deluded as to expect too much from such an extraordinary meeting in the middle of the night.

I remembered what my young friend had said: "If you search in the street like that, the only people you'll pick up will be rent-boys."

But Diego didn't seem like trade, just a normal middle-class kid who had his parents' permission to go out. He was at the same time both daring and shy, and the only surprising thing (which made me think) was how easily he'd accepted the company of a stranger and got into his car to go far outside the city, to the sea, in the darkness of the night.

But why should I doubt his sincerity? Why couldn't I accept the agreeable notion that he welcomed my company as much as I welcomed his?

I dreaded that the moment might come when he'd say "I don't like to ask, but I could use some money."

I would have given it to him, although my heart would have sunk and I'd never have seen him again.

However, he didn't ask for anything.

We arrived at the place he'd chosen. There were a few other parked cars with couples in them, and I didn't like it there. It seemed sordid to go to such a place with a boy like that, so I suggested we went to a beach nearby, which we did. It was very pleasant and romantic.

There was a full moon that night. The beauty of the place and the magic of the moment seemed to call for a walk along the sand, where the sea was gently lapping against the shore.

But Diego wanted to stay in the car.

He talked about his family, his childhood, his studies which had ended prematurely, the difficulty in finding work, and his dreams. He also spoke, but with great shame, about his poverty.

I felt a powerful urge to wrap him up in my arms, to protect him, and raise his spirits so he wouldn't feel so lonely and abandoned. He gently rested his head against my shoulder. The moonlight shone through the window and onto his face. His eyes were closed and he was smiling sweetly, like a sleeping child. And I held him with the same tenderness.

I would have liked to stay like that forever. I felt immensely happy and, at that moment, I thought I had found what I was looking for. But the hour was advancing, and now that it was 5 o'clock we scarcely had time to get back.

I kissed his lips with all the affection which was welling up in my heart, and I took him back home.

I asked him if I could see him again and, to my surprise, he enthusiastically asked me to come and see him the next day. I said I couldn't, but promised to find him again as soon as I could.

Then he showed me where he hangs out with his friends and where I could find him. He still hadn't asked for anything from me for all the happiness he'd brought. But he lived in a poor neighbourhood and I knew he was not well-off, so when we said goodbye I slipped a little money into his pocket. To my mind, this was not payment for his companionship but helping a friend in need.

Because I was convinced that Diego was going to be my great friend.

( To part three )