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 9
My corroded blue car finally collapsed on me Saturday afternoon while I was on the way to work. An older gentleman, he was gorgeous, by the name of Gerald assisted me in getting it towed away and also took me to work. I know, dear Reader, that you shouldn't talk to strangers, but he was my only hope, I didn't want to be stranded out in the rain. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn't pinpoint who he reminded me of. And what a beauty he drove.
On Sunday morning, minutes before I left for mass, David Wentworth tapped on my bedroom door and walked right in before I answered it catching me only in my red briefs. I'll tell you, dear Reader, that I was pissed. He's not supposed to see me almost naked, I don't have the muscular body that he has, and now I'm sure he's going to change his mind about me wanting to be his boyfriend. I know he saw me in this condition before, but that was a long time ago and in the early hours of the morning, under the influence of alcohol, at least I was under the influence.
"Good morning, Rober...Um, uh, sorry...I...didn't mean to barge right in." He was looking everywhere but me. I knew it; he will not want me after this. He turned back to the door and continued "I'll be taking you to church this morning; my dad told me your car died on you." How did his dad know my car broke down? Was Gerald his father?
I didn't pay much attention to the sermon the priest recited; my thoughts were on the answer I was going to give David who sat beside me. After mass, while we walked back to his car, the same car that Gerald drove—it turns out Gerald is his father— I told him I had made my decision.
"Yes, I'll be your boyfriend." I was nervous as I voiced those words with such pleasure. Finally, I was going to have what I've always wanted.
"Oh, listen, Roberto, um, you were right, this isn't going to work..." Ah crap, why is this happening? "I gotta go, um, I have a date with Annabelle, were going to my parent's cabin." I knew my heart wasn't going to recover from this. "I had a week to think about this as well and it turns out I'm not a homosexual like you. I think it'd be best if we didn't speak to each other again." And he left.
I walked back home with a silent torrent of tears dropping onto the sidewalk, listening to the airy conversation of the leaves, hearing time pass through my temples.
Morning arrived without saying where it came from or where it goes. This summer the sun hid from my view, its warmth did not reach me, only its humid air that turns and turns in my empty skull. I let the skies rotate above me, from the aurora of the day to the twilight of the night. I wanted the years to pass me by with each minute that ended. I wanted to quickly reach the pinnacle of my life where pain is unknown, where mirrors have no memory, where I can stare into the empty eyes of forgetfulness.
Yielding merely to my imagination, there were nights when I was confident that I would obliterate his image from my memory that I would voluntarily evoke him. But he never left, and my soul grew less more and more and began to wither.
It is said that everything is a door all one needs is the light push of a thought. I tried to open the doors of my thoughts, but there were no doors, just four walls caving in. I looked at myself in the mirror and I didn't recognize the body that it reflected, and I went back to bed and forced myself to sleep. Sleep to try and forget, but my memory doesn't believe in oblivion. Impatience would awake me and in the early hours of the new day I would witness the stars of dawn fall unhurriedly like the tree leaves.
Days of anger, days of grief, heartbeats of hope, heart-rending anguish, all resided in my body. Idleness took me to the streets with an unconfessed and ignored sadness. I'd spend the hours walking around, staring at my shadow, watching the sun swallow it with thrust.
Everywhere I went stares attacked me, questioning my every move, daring me to commit a crime. I want to be accepted, to be a legitimate part of reality, just like the rocks and trees. But the laws which govern our thinking misinterpret our intentions and condemn us to repress our reality. Singular and immeasurable was my solitude.
To wake up grows more difficult as the days continue to run with abandonment. I answered his proposition with my heart in hand. He didn't see it and he drained the blood that kept it alive. To die of love is never a social wrong. To die of love is the most natural of deaths. Oh, how I wanted to disappear from this life, to drown myself in tears, to feel that sensation of being ravished by the light that created me. There were days I witnessed myself embracing my shadow, motionless, whispering in the language of my feet.
I began to work full time at the restaurant and many nights put in extra hours. I found out that I had quite a bit of money saved; enough to be on my own once I turned 18. The owner asked me to be a waiter on several occasions and I did and received quite a bit of tips from the patrons.
Summer ended rather quickly as the next thing I know, I'm sitting in my Accounting class listening to the Mrs. Hayward explain the difference between the income statement and the balance sheet. I was finally a senior, dear Reader, which meant I would only need to take two classes a day; I had already fulfilled the required credits to graduate but the education system demanded that all students take four years of English, and since my Accounting class was first period, I enrolled in the English class offered right afterward.
Citlali Bracho and Sofia Hayes were already making plans for after graduation. Sofia was going to enroll in one of the Ivy League schools; she hadn't decided which one yet. Citlali was going to study abroad in England. And I, Roberto Aleman, was going directly into the labor workforce, superior studies was not going to be possible with the income I generated.
I had still yet to run into David Worthington or Scott Huntington. From what Sofia told me, they were taking a full load of classes, I assume they needed quite a few credits to graduate. One person I did see every single day was a guy by the name of Carl Owen. He was in both of my classes and he knew about my "difference"; he was the guy that was with Scott when they caught David and I entangled under the oak tree. Carl would intentionally try to sit next to me, would request to be my partner in group assignments, and would linger wherever I went. He sure was easy on the eyes, but I was not looking for a replacement, if there was anything to replace.
One evening while I was working, I was assigned a table on special request. I was only told it was a party of three and that it was under the name of Riggs. They were scheduled to arrive at eight and at exactly that time I saw David and Annabelle enter the restaurant followed by Carl. I prayed that the maitre d' would usher them far away from the area I was working that tonight.
I walked back to the kitchen to retrieve the plates for the other guests and as I finished placing the food on one of the tables, the maitre d' walked over to me and informed me that the Riggs party had arrived and were waiting for me. He pointed to a secluded table where I could only see the top of their heads and began walking to it.
When I arrived at the table, there sat Carl, David, and Annabelle, staring, awaiting my arrival. Lucky me.
"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" asked Annabelle.
"Why yes you do," responded Carl. "This is Roberto Aleman, he goes to our school. He's also a friend of David here." No I'm not, but I didn't want to correct him. I turned to look at David, but his head was bowed to the table studying his glass of water.
"Oh really? How come we've never met before?" Maybe because I don't want to know you, I said to myself.
"He's quite shy and doesn't interact with people that much," Carl answered for me. He's making me irritable; maybe I should hire him for my school presentations. Then he turned to me and said: "You might be wondering why you were assigned to our table, right?" So Annabelle's last name is Riggs. I nodded. "Well, Annabelle and David here are celebrating their fifth month anniversary so I called up the best restaurant in town and made reservations for them. I tagged along because I wanted to see you. I want to know if you'd like to go out with out with me sometime, you know, on date?" When he said that last part David snapped his head up and stared at Carl with an angry look.
"Wow. He's gay too?" interrupted Annabelle as she glanced from me to Carl.
"Yes he is dear cousin and I like him." Then he turned to me. "So, will you go on a date with me?" No, I don't think so. If Carl knew that David is "different", and Annabelle is his cousin, why didn't he tell her about David's "difference"?
"Isn't that sweet honey?" voiced Annabelle turning to David giving him a kiss on his lips. I wanted to hurl.
"So, what's your answer?" Carl certainly looked hopeful.
"I...well...I'm flattered that you'd want to go on a...date with me. But—" How dare he interrupts me.
"It's just a date, nothing more. Just one date that's all I'm asking for." He seemed to be pleading. I looked over at David scrunching his napkin.
"I don't know...I've actually never been on a date and—" Oh for crying out loud let me finish what I want to say.
"It's all right if you don't want to go out with me," Carl became sad and the hopeful smile he had was replaced with one of shear defeat, "I understand."
"No, no, no, that's not what I meant. I...I'd...I'd like to go out with you." Boy, my response seemed to make him the happiest guy alive. He leaped from his chair, brought his arms around my body, and planted a wet kiss on my lips. I tried to push him off but his body, like David's, was too strong for me. So I bit his upper lip to let mine go. That did the trick.
"Sorry, I got a little carried away." Carl said smiling at me.
"You certainly did." I was not happy, now I have his germs.
"So, I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow night?"
"Yeah." Why did I accept?
Chapter 10
The next day, dear Reader, as I was walking out of my Accounting class, there stood David Huntington, with the saddest look one can muster. I tried to walk past him, but his stature prevented me from moving forward. Damn him and his perfect body.
"May I help you?" I asked when all he did was stare at me.
"I cancelled your date with Carl." And he started to walk away.
"What?" How dare he try to control my life.
"I told him to stay away from you. He's not man enough for you." I was appalled.
"Oh, really? Did you try him out yourself?" Ah, ignorance is as difficult as beauty.
"No!" He shouted and all that stood around us turned his way.
"Go buy yourself a life and charge it to my account, I'm tired of you hanging around me." You shouldn't have said that, Roberto, he's seething at the mouth now. Oh and look, there's Carl walking our way.
"Hey, Carl," I called out before David could respond. Once Carl was near us I related what David told me. "Is it true, you don't want to go out with me anymore?" The people around us were in awe. I had inadvertently revealed, without even thinking about it, that I am very much indeed different and so is Carl.
"I'd still like to go out with you, but David here—" I halted his speech.
"Listen, I don't care what David has to say. If you want to go out with me, I'll be waiting at the time we agreed. If you don't show up, don't even bother with me." And I walked off to my English class.
That night, thirty minutes traversed from the agreed meeting and I was pissed, I got stood up. At exactly eight o'clock, there was a soft knock and when I opened the door, David appeared with a huge bouquet of flowers and a big smile plastered on his lovely face. He tried to say something but I slammed the door shut and locked it. I wanted to make sure he wouldn't barge in. He kept knocking, yelling for me to open the door.
"Roberto, please open the door." I'm not that stupid. I went over to the stereo in the living room, turned it on, and raised the volume. The Bracho's weren't home tonight; they belong to some religious congregation, more like a cult, where they gather several times a week in the evenings. I lied on the couch and drifted off to sleep entering the tunnel of my dreams.
About twenty minutes later—I assume it was that long—I awoke to a silent voice whispering in my ear. As my eyelids opened, David's image appeared before me. Under the impression that I was still dreaming, I pulled his head down to mine and kissed his mouth. My lips began to run over his lovely face while my hands took over the job of removing his clothes. All was going terrific; I had him clad in his underwear, white briefs by the way, dear Reader, but them I heard him speak. I don't remember what he said, but I quickly leaped away from him. You see, dear Reader, in my dreams, David Wentworth, does not utter a single word, he is only there to give me pleasure—we normally only get to the kissing part, no further, I still have a least some control over myself in my dreams.
"What the hell...you're...you...are...real? No, no, no, no, I'm still dreaming. Wake up you idiot, wake up!" My hands began to bang on my head. "Shit, its not working." I wandered around the room, talking out loud, not paying attention to the unclothed David that still stood in the middle of the room. I decided to head up to my room, I needed to lie down.
"You're just going to leave me here hot and bothered?" Damnit, he is real.
"Who the fuck let you in?" Good one, now you don't have to answer his question, I thought. "You're breaking an entry. I'll call the cops if you don't leave right this instant." Even better, I won't have to look at his heavenly body and that very large member protruding from his crotch.
"I'll tell them you attacked me and tried to rape me." That piece of shit. How dare he imply that I would do such a thing, especially to someone as strong as him. He began to slowly, very slowly lowering his briefs.
"Stop!" He better not take it off completely or I'll lose it. "Listen, put your clothes back on and um, we'll talk. I'll listen to whatever you have to say." I hope that pleases him.
"Well...I don't know...I kind of liked the idea of being naked with you." Now he's smiling. "What if we go up to your room, shed our clothes, climb into bed and let our bodies do the talking instead?"
"Noooo...I have an even better idea, why don't I give you a piece of paper with some crayons and you draw yourself a friend and stop goddamn pestering me!" Now I'm getting a headache, so I continued up the stairs leaving David to play with his new friend. I entered my room, threw myself on the bed, covered my head with one pillow, and prayed for sleep to take over.
"Roberto," I heard David's voice, "we need to talk." I felt his body sit on the bed and his hands rubbing my back.
"Go away, David." I pleaded. But he didn't go away, instead he began taking off my shoes, followed by my socks, and then my jeans. I didn't care if he saw me without clothes anymore. Moments later I felt him climbing onto the bed with his body laid next to mine, covering ourselves with a thin blanket, pulling me against his warm bare chest.
"Go away, David." I pleaded. But he didn't go away, instead he began taking off my shoes, followed by my socks, and then my jeans. I didn't care if he saw me without clothes anymore. Moments later I felt him climbing onto the bed with his body laid next to mine, covering ourselves with a thin blanket, pulling me against his warm bare chest.
"I know you might not believe me, Robert, but I've never stopped loving you." True, I don't believe him. "I hunger for you mouth, your voice, your hair. I stumble through the streets ravenous, silent." I do too but you won't hear me voicing it, except, of course, telling you, dear Reader. "Everyday I see you my heart twirls like the crazy wind. Your laughter soaks my solitude. I like you entwined in my arms." His mouth kissed the nape of my neck. "Before I came to you tonight, I looked at myself in the mirror to know who I am, to know how I'd behave when your fingers turned the knob and the door opened. When I laid eyes on you, I knew that the sun and earth destined you for me." You know, dear Reader, I think I've heard that line before, it think it came from Neruda. "Kiss me, hypnotize me, take my soul, it's yours." I turned around and kissed him.
Our tongues glided into our mouths. "Oh, Roberto, the taste of your mouth, the color of your skin..." Words were left on the tip of his tongue as my mouth invaded his. Kiss by kiss I traced his infinite body, going astray in the routes of his pure white skin. "You're beautiful like the wind, Roberto, baby." His hands commenced their navigation throughout my body. "Your whole body has a fullness, a gentleness destined for me. I'm in love with your feet because they walked for miles until they found me." And he began to kiss them, lick them. "Will you let me make love to you, Roberto?"
Your comments are welcome, positive, negative or in between. Write to orfeo.sunstone@gmail.com