Love for Life

It’s a sunny, warm day. I stand next to a window, looking at the front lawn filled with burnt grass.All I can think about is calling Elizabeth. Barry is sitting on a chair next to the stereo, making a mix tape for his walkman. He’s got LPs of Dire Straits, U2, The Police and Pink Floys scattered across the floor.

“How about ‘Brothers in Arms’ now. I think the tempo slowed down with ‘Tea in the Sahara’, right?”

“Right.”

I’m not paying any attention to the music. I ask Barry if I can use the phone.

“Who you calling?”

“Elizabeth.”

Barry stands up and puts his hand on my neck, sort of strangling me.

“Now I told you already, Lucas is Elizabeth’s boyfriend. She is not available right now. Plus, I don’t get what you see in the little barrel.”

I shoot a dart eye look at Barry.

“Alright, alright. Sorry. I know I shouldn’t call her that. But you see what I’m saying, right? You need to be focused right now on one thing and one thing only: Miss Mariela. She is the one who’s after you, she is the one that will change your life. She is the one that will make you grow a pair of balls so that you can hit any woman in the world and remove the virgin label from your forehead. We talked about this last night.”

And he’s right about everything. There are two problems, though. One: I still feel deeply in love with Elizabeth. She is not in love with Lucas, I’m sure. She is just trying to help him feel more secure, because she thinks I’m already secure. Well, let me tell you something, Elizabeth. I’m not secure, as a matter of fact I’m probably the most insecure guy in the whole town of San Cristóbal and probably of the whole State of Táchira. I need someone to train me like you’re training that traitor of a friend, Lucas.

“Look, I really need to call her.”

Barry gives me an understanding look.

“We can’t call from here. My mom has a padlock on the phone’s disc. Do you want to head out to the store?”

“Alright.”

We walk out the house and five blocks to the small bodega. The place is full of activity, with people coming in and out the narrow corridor where the counter is. A bulky phone with coin slots on the top sits next to Hector, the bodega’s attendant.

“Hey Barry,” says Hector extending his hand.

“Hi Hector. This is my friend Julio from school. He’s staying with us for a while.”

Hector looks to me, top to bottom.

“Hey little man.”

Even the bodega’s attendant can see right through me.

“We need the phone,” says Barry.

“You go ahead. It takes medios, reales or bolívares.”

Barry picks up the receiver and hands it to me. I dial Elizabeth’s number and insert the medio in the phone, as I hear the ringing tone on the other side. My hand starts to shake and I notice Barry staring at me on one side and Hector on the other side. Two kids come into the store laughing and whooping loudly and I can’t hear if Elizabeth is on the phone.

“Hello? Hello?”

The two kids are cackling and spitting each other darts of chewed up paper.

“Hey,” shouts Hector, “knock it off you two!”

The two guys get silent for a moment and then crack into laughter.

“I swear I don’t know what the future of this country is with the way kids are growing up.”

All this time I’ve been trying to hear if someone is actually talking on the other line. I yell once more on the receiver.

“Hello!”

“Julio, is that you?”

Four words that transport me immediately out of the God forsaken bodega into a small slice of paradise.

“Yes, Elizabeth! I wanted to know how you were doing?”

“Julio, I’m so mad at you! I’ve been calling your home phone number but it rings and rings and rings but no one answers!”

“Yes, I know. We really need to talk.”

“Can you come to my house?”

My heart is racing and finally I feel a glimmer of happiness after the last hard and crazy 24 hours.
“I’ll get on a bus right now.”

“I’ll wait for you, then.”

I hang up. I have no idea how to get to Elizabeth’s, much less if there’s a bus that runs all the way to her neighborhood. But I’ve got to get there now, set the record straight and kick that asshole out of her life.

“You’re going to her house?”

“I need to, pana.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“You can come over.”

“Fourth wheel? No man, you, Lucas and Eizabeth will be all cozy in her house.”

Lucas. What if he’s there right now?

May 12

10. Leonor and Mrs. Leticia

I woke up after my first night at Barry’s house. He’s snoring on top of our bed, I sleep in a narrow drawer that opens underneath him. My mother didn’t cry for some reason last night when she said goodbye, I’m not sure if this was Dad’s calming influence or if she was just pretending to be strong for me. I was split in half, with the little boy screaming to be picked up and not left behind, especially with the uncertain story that was going to render before me with my new family. The other half was just thinking of Elizabeth and how I was going to be able to see her again.

I am looking around the room, so different than mine. His clothes are strewn across the floor, there is a smell of tobacco and mold, of an old apartment in an old building much like a drunk old man in his old cabin. But the smell is bearable, a price I’m willing to pay to buy my new single, unsupervised life. The closet doors are full of stickers of all kinds, from horrible smiley faces to shiny mini flags of Venezuela, to “Love is…” quotes with the little couple of big faced characters (I can’t understand how I was so excited when I was filling the “Love is…” album, back at my Grandmother’s house; I was probably ten and times were different).

The door is halfway open and I can hear cars passing by out in the street. I think I hear some sort of music in the back, maybe from another room. A door opens, and I turn towards the door instinctively. I hear the flapping of barefoot steps and a groan. I see Leonor, dressed with a black T-shirt on the top and a nothing else. My heart skips a beat and I feel a devil recoiling on my lower body. She zombies her way to the bathroom door across ours, and closes the door behind her. I had a chance to see her naked legs and I close my eyes to trap the image on my mind. I look at the roof and feel scared and excited at the same time. Barry said that if her Mom finds out that I’m behind his sister, she’ll throw me out. Mrs. Leticia didn’t look like she was the type of person to be mad about anything in the world last night, she was all smiles and talking about me in a way like she already knows me. I had met her twice or three times at most, I guess Barry talks about me all the time to her. I wonder how much he talks to Leonor.

I hear another set of footsteps. I look at Barry and he’s still out cold. We had beers sneaked in to his room last night and the empty bottles are still under the bed. He told me to remember to not close the drawer before taking them out.

I see the figure of a guy, with a lot of brown hair in his back and dirty white boxers approach the closed bathroom door. I sit up on the bed ready to scream at him, but petrified knowing this is not my call, The guy puts his hand on the knob and jiggers it.

“Honey?”

Leticia opens the door, this time she’s in front of me, and I see her red panties’ front and her thick thighs. She chuckles and lets the guy walk in and right at that moment plants her eyes straight unto mine. I panic and try to turn my head somewhere else. I’m totally in shock. Leticia closes the door without taking her eyes off me.

I drop my head on the pillow, making a loud thump noise.

“What’s going on?” Barry mutters.

“Nothing,” I almost whisper, “it’s your sister – she just went to the bathroom.”

“Oh. What time is it?”

“I don’t know.” I pick up my Casio calculator watch and update my friend. It’s eleven a.m. on a Saturday morning of my new, weird life. I don’t know if I should tell Barry about Leonor’s companion, or if he knows already.

“Where’s your Mom?”

Barry lays down, with his eyes closed.

“How can I know? Do you see me walking around the house?”

At home, Saturday and Sunday mornings were a family ritual. I can’t remember having breakfast outside of my home on any weekend. Dad always wakes up, put some coffee to brew while he smokes the first of his three-pack ration of cigarettes, takes a quick shower and shaves and goes out to buy the newspaper before any of us (including Mom) gets up. He usually cooks arepas for us, with ham and white cheese, if we’re lucky and there’s ground meat leftovers, he will fry some empanadas and if we’re really, really lucky, he’ll make the best pancakes outside of the United States. I miss those pancakes a lot, right now.

May 11

9. You’re Not Staying

“Of course he can stay,” said Barry’s mom.

“Well, I really appreciate it. Just let me know how much we would need to send you on a monthly basis, considering, of course, that we’re by no means people with money…”

“I could never charge anything for him. I’m sure you would do the same for any of your son’s best friends, right?”

Dad would never do something like that. He would probably do it if it was something Mom had pressured him to do, but then he would have a guard on that boy as tight as a hooker’s jeans.

“Absolutely. What do you say we come over and bring a pizza, and we can have a nice dinner with you before we drop off Julio and leave?”

“That’d be wonderful. I have a nice bottle of wine waiting for the right occasion.”

“See you then.”

Of course, I didn’t know any of this conversation. I was waiting for Dad to come back with the definite, negative look on his face. I went upstairs to finish packing, with a lump on my throat. I sat on the floor and started throwing crap to one of the open boxes. This is so unfair! I hate moving. I hate it. We’ve moved so many times that I’ll feel strange when I grow up and stay for more than two years in any city. By then they might have a psychosis name for it, like “NWS, Nomad Worker Syndrom” or “UKSJFMTYS, Unable To Keep The Same Job For More Than Two Years Syndrome” or, here’s Dad.

“I know. I’m packing right now.”

“Thanks, Julio. Make sure you put everything we’re taking on that corner, and whatever you’re keeping here in the big brown suitcase.”

I looked at him without knowing which Greek God to give thanks to.

“You’re letting me stay?”

Dad sat down on one of the boxes and put his hand in my shoulder.

“Julio, I think this is going to be good for you. Your Mom is downstair crying, so don’t make a big deal out of it. Although it doesn’t look like it, she’ll probably get over it soon. It’s always hard for a mother to leave her only son out of the nest without knowing what’s going to happen to him. But it’s bound to happen. I think we’ve already done our job, so I’m sure you will behave like a responsible adult.”

I think I have a family of frogs on my mouth.

“Sure, Dad.”

Dad stood up and walked towards the door.

“Hey Dad.”

He turned around.

“Thanks!”

Dad grabbed the door knob, ready to close the deal.

“If you call me to tell me you have some girl pregnant, I will come, cut your balls, and send you off to Military School.”

Two hours later, Mom seemed in a better shape. I had my big brown briefcase in the trunk as we drove uptown to a middle class neighborhood filled with a government sponsored collection of box shaped co-ops, painted with the strangest combination of colors, like orange and grey, or lavender and green.

“This looks like the ghetto,” blurted my Mom.

Dad mumbled something I couldn’t hear. I wasn’t going to keep my hopes up, so I was expecting the worse; a big fight breaking right before dessert, my Mom saying I wasn’t ready, and my Dad assenting as he always did when Mom put some pressure on him.

We finally arrived to apartment 5-36. Barry’s Mom, Leticia, opened the door wearing a long velvet dress that looked more like a bathrobe.

“Welcome, Julio’s family,” she said in a sing-song voice.

My Dad looked at her for a little too long, surveying the character.

“Here’s the pizza.”

“Please come in.”

“I don’t think I want to,” whispered Mom.

We walked in to the apartment. I had been here a lot of times but knew my Mom and Dad were having a hard time understanding the décor.

“Barry’s Mom is a painter, Dad”

“Yes, yes. Well, I’m technically not a professional painter, as I haven’t sold my first piece yet, but I’m sure that’s about to happen any time now.”

“I see,” said Dad without having to say much more.

Barry’s sister came out with a guy ten years older than her in tow.

“Bye Mom, I will be here before one.”

Barry’s Mom choked.

“Honey, this is Julio’s family.”

Barry’s sister smiles, looking straight at me.

Mom gets close to my ear.

“You’re definitely not staying in this whorehouse.”

May 8

8. It’s Now or Never

Barry looks at me wide-eyed. “You can’t leave now, man! That teacher is your ticket to heaven!”

“But am I going to tell them?”

“You gotta act tough. Put down your foot.”

“Where am I going to stay?”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Can I stay with you?”

“Oh, no way. My mother wouldn’t let another man sleep under her roof while my sister is living there. But you can definitely wash your clothes at home.”

I tell Barry I’ll call him. He has a point and the point is clear; this is an opportunity I might not have in a long time. Living alone, without my parents watching would force me to grow up, to not being under the constant watch of my mother and the time constraints of my father. I will probably have a very rough time living myself, cooking my own meals (I don’t even know how to make rice), washing my clothes, getting a job, cleaning my room. But the rewards could be immense, going out with a hot divorced teacher who really wants me.

I walk to the living room, trembling but resolved, and stand in the corner while my mother wraps her precious glassware with old newspapers.

“Mom, I don’t want to go.”

Mom doesn’t even look up to me. “Go where?”

“To Caracas. Leave San Cristóbal. I’m going to stay here.”

Mom freezes for a second. “You can’t. We all follow your father to wherever he goes. I’m not staying here and letting your dad ruin his health with the constant traveling. I know you are scared and it’s the capital, but I’m sure you’ll make good friends.”

“I’ve decided it. I’m not going.” I try to be strong mentally, although physically I’m not doing so good. What is with the sudden urge to go pee?

“Julio!” Mom calls the supervisor.

Dad walks in the room, with a white undershit that barely has any white in it. His body is profusely sweating from packing boxes. “What is it?”

Mom’s tone goes into desperate mode. “Julio says he doesn’t want to go.”

“You’re nuts.”

“No Dad, I want to stay.”

“Where are you going to live? I’m not rich you know? We can’t afford two apartments.”

“Barry just told me I could stay with him.” Of course not, but what am I going to say, that I’ll sleep in a bench on the park?

“I want to talk to Barry’s Mother. What’s the phone number?”

Shift. Overdrive. “She’s not at home right now. She is…”

My Dad’s eyes pierce through me.

“Alright,” I offer. “Here’s the phone.”

I take a pad and scribble the phone, switching the last two digits.

Dad takes the paper without taking his eyes off me. “You really want to stay?”

Mom swivels her head towards Dad. “You are not on board with this idea, are you?”

“Sweet pea, he’s seventeen. He’s not a baby anymore! It might be good for him to be on his own. God knows he doesn’t do anything except eat like a pig and steal the car.”

Dad never calls Mom “Sweet pea” unless he wants to make a really strong point against her.
Mom continues with the opera. “But he’s never lived by himself! Who’s going to wash his clothes and feed him? He’ll probably shower once a month. And don’t even get me started with the cleaning, he’s going to live like a pig. I won’t have it!”

“Julio, what do you have to say?” For the first time in my life I notice a glimmer on my Dad’s eyes, some sense of a young, reckless man trapped inside the body of a man with a wife and a whole lot of debt. He wants to live the adventure through me, he wants to experience what he experienced when he was young once more. Or, knowing Grandma, what he couldn’t experience himself. That thought scares me to death, what if I really can pull this off?

May 6

7. Nuts

“You told her what?”

“That I had fallen in love with her.”

Barry chuckled. “What did she say?”

“I don’t know; she stood there looking at me.”

Her face was like a short story. It began with a smile, then her eyes opened very wide, then she wrinkled her forehead and looked deeply sad, then I don’t know because I just walked away.

My mom shouts from the living room to hang up the phone. I hold to it like it’s my life line before I die in a painful, unknown way.

“What happened to Miss Mariela?”

“My Mom came to pick me up before I could see her.”

“I’m coming over.” Barry hung up the phone.

“No!” But it’s too late. He’s already gone. Barry is going to know now that I’m leaving, that this was all a lie, that I wasn’t going to go to the prom and that my intentions all along were to cut all my life in San Cristóbal in one swift move, like a Ninja cutting off the head of his enemy. He will think I don’t appreciate all the times we were together, the late nights in the printing machine assembling the school newspaper, the tape mixes he made me to score the chicks, the super awesome Ghostbuster-themed party we threw in the basketball court, with the permission of Professor Emmanuel, the school principal, who really liked me for all the activities I was helping with at school and the funny caricature I made for him in the first issue of the school newspaper, who Barry and the other editors told me was going to mean expulsion, but that Professor Emmanuel picked up from my hand and while I waited the strike, laughed so hard, put his arm around my shoulder and demanded to the secretary to frame it immediately for his office. Barry wasn’t going to appreciate any of it. But Barry would get over it. He had probably slept with half of San Cristóbal already, without even owning a car, and the way he did it was by appearing to be a very fragile, shy person, who could barely talk to women and waited for them to feel sorry for him and cuddle him and that’s when he struck back, lunged to their lips, put his hands on the right place and after that it was history, the woman would become another stripe in his tiger body wearing a lamb costume. Barry had tried to teach me “the B-move”, as he called it, but of course I was really shy, I could never lunge to a woman’s lips (that seemed so improper) and I could never put my hands anywhere on a woman’s body, much less the ones he was telling me to grab on the practice pillow (he first suggested we practice on his older sister Leonor but, to my great disappointment, his boyfriend had already picked her up, and Leonor would have been perfect he said because she had taught him all he knew about sex, love and rock and roll (and the word in the street was that Leonor was a slut and did cocaine and had the worst boyfriends and her white skin was covered with tattoos in the most intimate places and I had fantasized about Leonor many, many times, especially after what happened the first time I met her at Barry’s house, when we listening to U2’s “Joshua Tree”, an album that to be honest I didn’t understand, but thankfully Barry liked Billy Idol as well, which I found more entertaining and he especially liked Genesis’ “Mama” which had a killer drum part, and Leonor came in and asked “Who is this?”, like looking at a little baby in his crib, and Barry had answered non-importantly “Julio” and Leonor had looked back at me, ran her eyes up and down and extended her hand as to say hi and I extended mine and she passed it and went straight to my bottom, grabbed one cheek and blurted “Nice ass!”).

My Mom announced Barry was outside.

“What the fuck is all this?”

“We’re leaving. Tonight.”

“What?”

“Look, I was going to tell you.” Of course he didn’t believe me.

Barry grabbed my arm and we went outside.

May 5

6. Sad Stories

She looks so beautiful to me that I realize this is not just infatuation or a teenager crush. This must be love, my first true and deep love. It’s not like what happened with Gina when I just started school and she was all smiles with me and her prominent nose didn’t hide her beautiful olive skin and her big black eyes and her short black hair that reminded me of a beautiful Liza Minnelli and she invited me to her house to study with her friend Wanda and she had a beautiful modern house that my Dad drove me to and there she had a very cool bar with a neon light and tall stalls and I tried to be alone with her and when the moment came and I was so sure I was going to do it, going to have my first real girlfriend, she tells me she brought me here because Wanda had the biggest crush on me and I felt like someone shot my head and my brains flushed down my throat and I felt dizzy with a pain in my chest imagining how many hours until my Dad came to pick me up and to avoid the now incessantly looking Wanda with her plump body and her pink braces and later find out that Gina was going out already with the dumbest and most annoying in class Fernando Genova who was tall, skinny and had the worst acne and teeth that stuck out like a rabbit and bad breath and a huge Adam’s apple and kept making fun of me until one day we almost got down in a fight, which of course I would have lost, because I’ve only fought with another guy once and the fight lasted exactly three seconds, which was the time it took for Marlon to hit me in my neck, making me so woozy I fell down on the floor almost passed out and the other classmates gathered around me laughing, speaking in another tongue I couldn’t understand and from that point on I was the class clown for the remaining two years I was there which made my chances of getting a girlfriend close to zero.

I really have a deep connection with Elizabeth. Her eyes sparkle as she begs me to forgive her. She doesn’t know why she’s asking it, but it seems like she really cares for me. This is nothing like Vivi, my crush in Morón who was the most beautiful girl in class and I was new in that school and it seemed she was attracted to me and she had blond short hair and green eyes and her lips were like a little fish’s blowing bubbles in the water and she had the tightest jeans and everyone in class, everyone in school had a crush on Vivi and one day she turned around and started talking to me and of course I couldn’t even hear her words because my heart was pounding so loud it blocked every noise in that classroom and the teacher asked “Julio” once and Vivi was asking me something about question number two and I was just completely high with the drug of her perfume and Vivi asked me again what was the answer to question number two and the teacher repeated “Julio” and suddenly I saw a huge bumblebee coming straight to Vivi and shouted watch out and all the silent, test-taking class turned around to see me at the exact moment I saw the bumblebee land on the window next to me and I had taken my test paper from my desk and smashed it against the window which broke under the force of my palm and out the window I went as Vivi screamed and jumped back and then, for the longest time, I was just outside of the ground floor classroom, laying on my back, looking at the kids from second grade laughing at me and getting my chances of getting a girlfriend on the remaining two years I was in that school close to zero.

Elizabeth was crying already and I was silent just remembering all these things and thinking how fortunate I was to have a girl care for me that much and thinking how special can one person be that another person cares for him or her, especially in the last day of the last year of high school, when you have run out of options and no other girl was willing to give you a chance and no other girl really liked you for some strange reason that you’re constantly trying to figure out which involved changing hair style two times, changing deodorant three times, getting Mom to buy the coolest clothes, or at least you thought were cool, only to find them hidden in the closet because you had no social activities to go to and school had a uniform like every other school in Venezuela in the nineteen eighties which consisted of a light brown shirt with the logo of the school in your breast pocket, dark blue jeans and black leather shoes, and trying to become cool in school wearing a single bicycle glove in your left hand and when people asked what I was wearing I would reply back that I was a big fan of Michael Jackson who had had an accident in a Pepsi commercial and after that he started wearing one glove on his burned left hand and when people laughed at me and pointed at me I would yell that I was born the same day as he was, just ten years later so I did have a real connection with him and they’d laugh even louder and then I told Elizabeth I was in love with her.

May 4

5. The Hideout

The wait is killing me. I look at my wristwatch and it looks like the hands are stuck at one fifteen. I won’t hide on a bathroom stall ever again. I hear the door open and the sounds of a stampede. Two guys are laughing and shouting. One of them tries to open my stall door.

“Busy!” I shout.

The guy open the stall next to me. I have fun for two seconds, trying to figure out this guy’s face from the looks of his cheap leather shoes and his short white socks. His pant seams are dirty and ragged. He makes bodily noises I’ve never heard coming from any person. I look into my bag, take out my Walkman and press play as I put the earphones on. I crank up the volume.

My mother must be upstairs, in the curb, waiting in our brown Ford Granada, along with twenty other nervous moms in similar cars, asking themselves “Where the hell is he, she or them?” My plan calls for her to get tired and leave before Miss Mariela finishes and goes out looking for me. If my mom doesn’t leave, I won’t be able to get out of school with Miss Mariela. If Miss Mariela gets out too early, she’ll probably think I dumped her and will leave. What time is it good to go out? I look at my wristwatch and it reads one seventeen.

The guys finally leave the bathroom as I let out a loud sigh. Maybe one twenty is good. With the movers back at home, my Mom doesn’t have the luxury to wait twenty minutes. With the possibility of breaking or scratching one piece of furniture each fifteen minutes, she will have to deal with this later. I will also have to deal with this later, but knowing that my chances of having a good time with a hot teacher are high, I’ll just accept any punishment after. The big question is, of course, how big of a punishment can I get? I try to remember what is the worst one I’ve gotten. There was the infamous belt chasing episode in Barquisimeto, the one week without watching TV in Porlamar and the hair pulling marathon from the car to the house in Morón. But I’m seventeen now, so none of those are possible. Maybe today is the day I get a real slap in the face from my Mom.

I can’t wait any longer here. My stall neighbor left me what looks like a big, smelly present, plus I just looked at my watch and it read one-nineteen, and it’ll probably take me about a minute and a half to get to the school entrance. Wait, why the school entrance? I could just go look for Miss Mariela in her classroom. Of course, I have no idea of what the second floor is arranged like, but I’ll just take my chances.

I get out of the bathroom and take a deep breath of fresh air. I smell my shirt, just in case I reek of feces or urine. I pity the people who have to clean these rooms every day. I run towards the stairs and start looking through each door. None of them have the class grade outside. I have to make an effort to look for the information inside the room, either above the blackboard or the pin boards. Most of them are empty, until I reach one with a teacher inside. Bingo! I open the door and –

“May I help you?”

It’s not Miss Mariela.

“Sorry, Miss. I’m looking for third grade?”

“A or B?”

Shit! There’s more than one?

“I don’t know – I am looking for…” I stop and realize I could be putting me and Miss Mariela in trouble. “I’m looking for my brother.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Perez,” I make up the name on the spot.

“Oh, you’re Leo’s big brother?”

“That’s right!”

“Miss Mariela finished like ten minutes ago. I don’t think there’s anyone there. Go to the school gates, I’m sure he’ll be there.”

I run back to the stairs and start to descend in two steps, but then, like a police officer, stop and stick to one wall. I push my head out slowly toward the school entrance. I don’t see anyone there. I feel a tap on my shoulder. I spin around ready to run.

It’s Elizabeth.

“What the hell are you doing Julio? I’ve been looking for you!”

May 1

4. Moving Out

The last day of high school is upon us. Emotions are riding high and tears are the currency of the day. People are signing each other’s shirts with non-erasable markers. Elizabeth is standing next to Lucas laughing at some joke. He is a completely new person. His hair is different, his jeans are tight, his glasses replaced by contacts and now he talks and walks with a playboy swagger. Elizabeth told me, called me, trapped me in corridors, begged and cried to please, please talk to her. I never told her.

I’m with Barry and his motley crew. I’m glad this is over, I won’t miss these clowns. My parents are moving back to Caracas. I will be back in the metropolis, in the big city. I will be going to Universidad Simón Bolivar, the best technical school in the country to become an Electronic Engineer and meet real women. I haven’t told anyone I’m leaving today.

“So Julio, you’re leaving us next week?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I hope you don’t make the whores cry over there.”

The joke has had a shelf life of exactly four months and three days now. It’s now vox populi that I’m not only a virgin, but that I scare away prostitutes.

“Look man, I just wanted to talk to her before we got to the sex.”

“Talk? Shit, Julio, I hear Candy left the business for good! What in heaven’s name did you tell that bitch?”

I can’t think of anything good or funny to say. I walk away toward the main building. It’s completely empty, with just the faraway screaming of the students in the court. I reach the stairs for the second floor and sit down on the steps. I think about leaving right now but I still need to get the final notes from the principal’s office. I stand up to walk over there when I see Miss Mariela walking towards me.

“Hi Julio!”

“How are you, Miss Mariela?”

“I have told you to stop calling me that. Just Mariela, please.”

“Sorry.”

Miss Mariela is dark skinned, tall, with long black hair and a teacher’s uniform a little too revealing. She teaches the kids on third grade and was very forward about her attraction to me more than once. I always had fantasies with her, but never really had the courage to make any of them a reality.

“You never called me for coffee. What happened?”

I stare at her chest for way too long. “I have been busy with finals and all.”

“I hear you’re leaving to to the big city.”

“Yes, next week.” Even to her I’m lying.

Miss Mariela takes my hand and lowers her voice. “Look, I really want to get together before you leave. We had great conversations on the class breaks. You’re so more mature than other boys; much more interesting. I feel like I can really talk to you.” She pauses for a moment, staring at me. “To be honest, I’m a little heartbroken about you leaving.”

I smile and fixate on her bright white teeth and her thick lips. She is about thirty-five, but her expressions are from a much younger woman.

“Maybe we can get together after class for a small farewell lunch at my apartment? I can make you some of my world-famous tamales?”

“Y – Yes, perfect!”

“Great! I’ll see you in the front around one-thirty then. I need to finish my little monster’s grades. My apartment is four blocks from here, so we can walk and talk on the way.”

“One-thirty,” I repeat like a zombie.

Miss Mariela releases my hand and walks away. I watch her whole figure become a silhouette against the noon sun coming in through the tall windows. I am lost in her perfume and the echoing sound of her voice.

Of course I’m not going to be able to go. I don’t have enough time to go to Miss Mariela’s and finish the packing of my room, which my mother has been reminding me about for the last three weeks. I don’t know if I would have the courage either.

I rush to a payphone and call home. I try to confirm with my mother what time I should really,
really be there. Mom says the movers are taking a little more time than expected.

“Oh, good, because me and Barry and the guys are going over to Fresas Mérida for a burger.”

“Julio, did you finish packing?”

I close my eyes, trying to get some good excuse together.

“No, Mom. I still have some clothes and the shoes.”

“Honey, you’ve had weeks to pack. We’re paying these movers by the hour and – hey! Be careful with that table!”

Her voice is muffled for a moment while she shouts orders to the men.

“Julio, I have to go. I’ll pick you up at one,” and hangs up.

I hang up the receiver. This is my last chance. I could go to College, finally feeling secure about myself. I’ll call my Mom again, and explain to her that this is matter of life and death. Or maybe I’ll just hide from her when she comes to pick me up and escape with Miss Mariela and live with Miss Mariela a happy, college-less, sex-ridden period of my life.

I really need to fuck that teacher.

April 30

3. Prostitute Stories

The night is chilly. So is the beer. We sit in the round aluminum table with a huge umbrella on top. CADA Café is the place to meet and exchange stories and future attack plans on women. The first time I was here, I hated beer. Just swallowing it was a big undertaking. But all my buddies were downing the plastic cold jars and I wasn’t going to send the message that I’m a total introvert and that I’ve never had more than two friends at a time. There are five of us sitting around the wannabe Arthur’s table.

Tonight I’m getting drunk for sure as I try to forget about the horrible taste of the beer that I’m holding and the past few days not talking to Elizabeth and her new boyfriend. My mother was very pissed after the car stealing fiasco. I think more than pissed she was hurt that I had sneaked up on her like this. I had never done something like this in my life. I’m the eldest, so my mother has always thought of me as the leader of my brothers, the one to give the example, the one who has to work the most and discuss the least our parent’s orders.

I came back that day from Elizabeth’s house completely distraught, swearing to hate her for the rest of my life. I parked the car in the garage, got out and slammed the door shut. I went to the backyard of the house and released the lump in my throat I had carried all the way back from her house. The tears flowed freely and my body trembled. I felt stupid and worthless. I didn’t even have the balls to say it to her. Not even when she told me the great news that she had fallen in love with someone else.

“Hey, Julio, drink up man! We’re hitting the whores after this.”

“You know I don’t go for that shit, Barry.”

Barry leads the pack into a funny inquisition on me. “Okay, man. Can you please tell us why the hell not?”

The truth is I’m a virgin. There, I said it. I’m seventeen and a virgin. “Look, I’ve been with prostitutes and it’s not the same as being with a woman you have feelings for.”

“You’re such a pussy!” Barry blurts out laughing

I can feel my head filling up with blood. “Have you ever been with a woman that was not a prostitute?” I glare around the table. “Any of you?”

There’s a silence for a moment. I think I might have gone too far. I stare into space for a second. “Alright, alright, I’m coming with you.”

The boys whoop and laugh, exchanging high fives. My act of courage is followed by a slight dizziness.

I am really going to do this tonight. I have this theory that being a virgin is the main reason why I’m so scared of women. Of course imagining I’m naked and about to have sex with a woman is an easy thing. But the whole process of getting there is what really worries me. I can’t talk to girls. I don’t have a car. I don’t have any money. I’ve never masturbated. I’ve never been in a whore house. I’ve never met a prostitute. I guess sex has been a taboo in my house and for that reason I’ve always evaded the subject. Doing that during your early teens is easy, I would guess only sick people are doing it at that point. But the thing gets dicey when you turn seventeen. You’re expected to have passed the sacred moment of being with a prostitute. In this town, most of the times your own father is the one to lead you to the small back room where you find an older woman naked, ready to introduce you to the wonderful world of sex.

My dad? He would change channels immediately if a kissing scene came about on “Starsky and Hutch”.

We finish the beers and pay. None of us have a car so we all begin our march down the dark town’s streets towards the fun place where women sell themselves. Barry puts his arm around my neck.

“You’re not a virgin are you?”

I put my best performance. “Barry, come on!”

“I’m just asking, man. There’s some weird people out there.”

“The poor bastards.”

We finally arrive to an old two story house. From the outside you wouldn’t think there’s anything going on in there, the only tell tale signs are the hum of a loud salsa song and a huge black man leaning against the door ledge. Barry approaches the man.

“We’re five.”

“You got money?”

Barry chuckles. “Of course, man.”

My legs will give in any second now. Crossing that ledge means leaving behind a part of my life and changing it forever. Do I really want to do this? My brain tells me “you’re doing the wrong thing, Julio, get out now”. Making up an excuse is the easiest thing and in no time I could be on bed, lying on my back, thinking about that bitch Elizabeth and her new boyfriend, Lucas.