Copyright 2006 by Orfeo Sunstone
Disclaimer: Subject matter of this fictional short story is of homosexual nature, if this offends you or it is illegal to read in your state or country, please leave immediately. All individuals depicted are a figment of the imagination, and any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental.
Your comments are welcome, positive, negative or in between. Write to orfeo.sunstone@gmail.com
I, Roberto Aleman
Chapter 7
Sleep was difficult to undertake. Tossing and turning, my body screaming for respite, in the middle of the night David's memory woke me and said: remember me.
After being released from the death institution, most people call them hospitals, Citlali Bracho took me to her parent's house. She had gone to my parent's house to collect my belongings, which was no more than a medium size luggage, and installed it in the guestroom. Citlali must have given an explanation of the happenings to her parents as they didn't interrogate me.
When I finally settled down in my new accommodations, I formulated a plan. A plan for this life that no longer was mine, just borrowed for a couple of years. I deduced that beginning the New Year I was going to drop out of school, find a full time job, and initiate the search for an apartment. But my plans were quickly admonished by the Bracho's who demanded that I continue my studies, only work part-time, and that I was staying with them until I graduated. Like I said, dear Reader, this life is not mine.
Back in school, I carried two empty eyes that only witnessed the dubious ambition of being someone. Sofia Hayes and Citlali tried to distance my thoughts from the event that landed me in this predicament. Even Scott Huntington started to be friendly with me. But David Wentworth, he kept his distance. Occasionally, I would catch him looking my way.
February came and I was due for a birthday. I was under the impression that no one was aware of it. I was wrong. The morning of my 17th birthday, there in my locker, on the top shelf, a lonely blue orchid was sitting along with a card which had my name in calligraphy letters. I closed the locker and walked away from it. I didn't want to know who put it there; my brain speculated on one particular blue eyed blond.
Unfortunately, after several hours went by, I still had no answer as to who sent me that flower. The only way to find out would be to retrieve the card. So, back at my locker, when the halls were deserted ands as I was opening the card, a swift aroma of green tea leaves filled my nostrils. Shit.
"Happy birthday, Roberto." No, God, why must he keep tormenting me? "Hope you like the orchid and the card." I could feel his smile on my back. Quickly, I grab my backpack, closed the locker, and ran out. I tried, that is. But a large white skin hand took hold of my arm preventing me from moving forward.
"Get your filthy paw off of me!" I demand. David shook his head. "Please..." He just smiled.
"Read my card first."
"No."
"Then I won't let go," and he drew my frame closer to his.
I tried jerking my arm away, but he held it with a tight grip. Sweat and fear began to populate my head. What could I possibly do to get him to release me? I didn't want to suffer an attack again.
"I'll scream if you don't let go," I dared threatened.
"Go ahead." Think, Roberto, think.
"Okay, if you let go, I'll read your card." I pleaded. He just kept smiling, showing me his bright white teeth. "What do you want dammit?" And he leaned closer to my face and tried to kiss me, but I moved my head to the side and his lips touched my cheek. The warmth of his breath tingled my skin.
"I'm very sorry for the troubles I brought upon you," he whispered to my ear. "I'm sorry that I hurt you." He continued in a hoarse voice. "I'm sorry that I haven't been man enough to admit that I'm gay and that I'm..." And I felt a drop of liquid slide down my neck and absorbed by the collar of my sweater. "Roberto, I'm in love with you." I wanted to believe him, I wanted to tell him that I loved him too, but my heart was still wounded from his past performances, or it was possibly the pride I carried around that blocked the conviction in his voice.
I closed my eyes but I couldn't stop seeing his majestic face. "Roberto, I will no longer hide my love for you." For an enormous moment I forgot my name. "I know I committed several wrongs to your person—."
"David...I don't..." and he turned his face to stare into my eyes. Tears were sprouting from his pupils. My heart began to ache with pain at witnessing his tears trickle down his eyes. "I'm sorry David, but I can't be with you."
"Please..." he begged, but my mind, among stubborn confusion, had already resolved this difficulty. I shook my head and he released me. I began to walk away as he dropped to his knees and a flow of tears overpowered his eyes. "Please don't leave me Roberto." And I left with the sound of his tears defoliating my heart.
Weeks cruised through and the school year was winding down. Sitting under the shade of an oak tree during the lunch hour, listening to the chatter emanating from Citlali and Sofia, my sight began to wander across the football field and onto the soccer field. There, on the goal area, David practicing penalty kicks and Scott trying to prevent them. The fleshy mounds of David's body clearly visible from the tight faded jeans. If only I could be the wind that was blowing just to caress those mounds...
After David had declared his love for me and received my rejection, he would constantly leave notes in my locker or my backpack. Just the other day, dear Reader, I found in my underwear drawer a single white rose with a card that read: As sleep you are bigger than the night. As well as requesting that I wear the light blue briefs that were attached to the rose. I did wear the briefs he requested; they were the only clean one's I had left, he hid the other ones under my bed, I found that out later in the day from his other notes. And every Tuesday morning, during my Economics class, a blue orchid would be delivered to me, no card attached.
Stalker. He was stalking me.
"Roberto, are you going to attend the school dance?" Asked a smiling Sofia while playing with Citlali's hair. Did she really believe that I, Roberto Aleman, would take part in a school dance?
"Nope, I don't think so. I don't bother with such annoyances. Besides, I don't know how to dance and I don't have a date and I'm not taking a girl to the dance, so you'll have to find someone else to go with, Citlali." And I kept staring at David as his t-shirt slid up his body exposing his smooth white skin. I guess the fabric was perturbing him because he swiftly took it off. Oh, what a sight to see.
"But you promised you'd take me to the dance," Citlali whined.
"No, I said I'd think about it, and I've thought about it, and I've concluded that wasting my precious time on something as worthless as the school dance is not on the top of my list." And I saw David and Scott jogging towards us, David without his t-shirt, exposing his magnificent body for all to see. "I gotta go..." I lifted my behind from the ground but gravity pulled me right back down; the gravity of Citlali and Sofia that is.
"Please Roberto, take me to the dance, I'll do anything, and I mean anything if you take me." Now that's just disgusting.
"Yuck." I tried to get up again but it was too late, David and Scott had arrived. My eyes were set on David's chest, sweat covered his smooth body. Those stupid eyes of mine dared travel a little further up into his eyes and met his examining stare. I quickly darted them back down.
"Hey guys," said Scott as he went over to Sofia and gave her a sloppy kiss on the mouth. Sick.
Annoyed, Citlali replied, "I don't appreciate being referred to as a guy, Scott."
"Yeah...well too bad." And he sat on the grass next to Sofia. This green grass had become an interest to my hands they began pulling it out one strand at a time. David stood behind me and his shadow expanded over my body.
"You're a pest. Your presence has germinated my aura. I must go cleanse myself." And Citlali left. I wanted to leave too but my body was malfunctioning. I couldn't move and my hands were now gaining soil spots on them from the depleted grass.
"Let's skip next period, Scotty," Sofia requested. "I don't want to go to my English class, we have a presentation to give and I haven't prepared for it."
"Whatever you say." And they left, leaving me alone with David.
Chapter 8
Dear Reader, at this very moment I find myself with my back on the grass and David Wentworth on top of me. The bell indicating that our lunch hour had ended rang many minutes ago but David still had me pinned to the ground. He had scattered the grass that I had pulled out onto my hair and was now slowly taking it off.
"You mouth smells like cinnamon and I'm still hungry. May I?" he asked licking his lips.
"No! Get off of me." I demanded from my attacker as I tried to push him away.
"I really didn't care for an answer as I'm tasting it anyway." And he dove right in, his mouth smashing with mine. His hands on the back of my neck lifted my head from the ground and into his open mouth. Futile was my struggle with his embrace that I just conceded to the kiss. Oh and what a kiss. His tongue mingling with my tongue climbing and descending the interior wall of my mouth: a germination of words. My hands fondling his hard jean clad rump and—
"I knew it!" Came a voice that startled the both of us. I immediately removed my hands from his rear-end. "I told you he was a fag. You owe me fifty bucks."
David lifted his head a little to stare into my eyes and I tried to look over his shoulder but the sun was glaring my vision. I was preparing for his outburst, but it didn't happen. Instead, he whispered, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it," and gave me a peck on the lips.
"Scott, what did I tell you about using certain words?" David said, still staring at me, eyes, smiling. "And why where you betting on my sexuality?" My face became red and David's smile grew bigger.
A nervous Scott began to apologize, "Ah...well...um...you see...I'm sorry David. It...it jus slipped out. I'm sorry to have interrupted you."
"You're forgiven, Scott. Just make sure it doesn't happen again. Now, could you and your friends give us some privacy, please?" What friends? Who was with him?
"Yeah...are you and um...you and Roberto...you know..." No, don't ask it. Don't finish that damn sentence.
"What? Come on, spit it out." Why must you insist, David, why? If only I could crawl underground like the worms...
"Ah, man, why do you have to make it so difficult? You know what I'm trying to ask damnit."
"Well, if you don't ask out directly, I won't know what you're talking about."
"Fine. Are you and Roberto, ah, fuck. Is he, is he, your boy...friend?" Deny it, David, deny it.
"Good question, but you'll have to ask Roberto here," and he dared wiggle his eyebrows at me. "Roberto, will you be my boyfriend." What? No. I will not be his boyfriend. Oh how I wanted to disappear.
"No." And David's smile began to fade. "Your friend here decided to assault me and I'm trying to get him off. Help." I requested from whoever was behind us.
"I think he's lying," said another guy.
"Yeah, me too," replied Scott. How dare they accuse me of lying. "We'll leave you two lovebirds alone now." I heard footsteps marching away.
"I knew he liked you too, Roberto," shouted a girl's voice. How many people were there?
"You don't know how much I like him, Sofia," mumbled David before his lips met mine again. But I didn't want to kiss anymore, I needed to get away, besides, my lips were sore from his frenzied attack.
"David..." he kept searching for my mouth. "Hold on..." my hands tried to push him away but his hands held mine away and his lips fell on top of mine again. "David!" I muffled loudly in his mouth. That got his attention, but only for a split second as his tongue darted back into my mouth, taking a gulp of my breath with him. "Please David..." I pleaded when his lips left my mouth in search of my earlobes.
"I'm sorry, baby, it's just that...god you drive me crazy...I'm sorry for being brusque...the urgency of my thirst made me temerarious...I just can't seem to get enough of your mouth..." and he began to lower his lips to mine again. "Just one more kiss," he requested staring into my eyes. No, I could never deny him anything. "Please..." I answered by bringing his head down to mine.
"We gotta get to class David, the last period will start any minute now." I said trying to stand up. We had been outside kissing for over an hour. He staggered into a standing position and then lifted me from the ground. I started walking towards the school building but he stopped me from continuing.
"Roberto, will you be my boyfriend?" David asked with such hope in his eyes that he didn't expect the answer I gave him.
"No." And I tried to walk away but his hand still had a grip on my left arm. He pulled on my arm and forced me to stand facing his blue watery eyes.
"Why...why not?" His eyes pleaded.
"Can't you figure it out? You have a girlfriend named Annabelle, remember?" He stared at me for a long time. Okay, so it was maybe five seconds, but to me, his stare lasted a century. Then, without notice, he pulled my body tight against his. I could definitely feel his protruding member against mine.
"You won't be my boyfriend just because you believe that Annabelle is my girlfriend?" I shook my head. "There's more?" I nodded. "What else is preventing you from being my boyfriend?"
"Oh, I don't' know, maybe because you've caused me to blackout twice already. Because of you, my parent's found out that I'm very "different" and kicked me out. First, you want to be friends; then you inform me that I'm a goddamn loser, that I'm not worth your time. Then you try to beat the shit out of me on several occasions, and in one of them I suffered a concussion. And now you want me to believe that you love me? Ha!" All the while I ranted my disgust towards his person, his smile gradually faded and a concern look appeared.
"I certainly have a lot to make up, baby," he whispered and began to move his lips to mine. What is wrong with him? Did he not hear what I just said?
"Don't call me baby, I'm not your baby." I was mad. I just wanted to get away. "And let go of me already."
"No, baby. First, I don't have a girlfriend; I ended my acquaintance with Annabelle many months ago, she wasn't my type." He began to suck on my lower lip gently. "Second, I regret profoundly that I stopped being your friend. I was stupid for listening to my so-called friends and ended our friendship." His teeth gave my lips a few gentle bites. "Third, I hope one day you can forgive me for ever laying a hand on you. I will never ever hurt you on purpose. After I punched you, I wanted to die, I wanted to crawl into a hole and never emerge." His hands were now wrapped around my waist and mine were on his chest. "Now I understand why you never fought back. If only I could've been smart enough..." His eyes became misty. "With regard to your parents, all I can say is sorry. I didn't measure the consequences of my actions and you ended getting hurt." A few tears began to shed from his eyes and I wanted to suck them dry. "All I ask for is one more chance. Just one more chance and I'll make you the happiest guy alive." How could I say no to that? "Will you be my boyfriend?"
"No." I guess I can say no. "You're just not what I'm looking for." I couldn't belief that I, Roberto Aleman, was rejecting David Wentworth. "I had you in a pedestal, you were a god, but now...you just don't do it for me anymore." What in the world was I talking about? "No, David Wentworth, I don't want a relationship with you. I think it would be a waste of time."
David examined my face as if searching for the culprit that was making me say those words. "That's a bunch of crap and you know it. I'll give you a week. One week to give me an answer. This Sunday morning I'll stop by Citlali's house; I'll be expecting your real answer." I guess my words lacked conviction.
"I can't. I go to hear mass on Sunday mornings." I wasn't lying, I go to church every Sunday. I know that many feel that if the church condemns your "difference" that everything they preach is blaspheme. Well, I go to church to hear mass, not the interpretation of each priest; I make my own interpretations.
"Not a problem, I'll wait for you." Darn.
Your comments are welcome, positive, negative or in between. Write to orfeo.sunstone@gmail.com