Payback

This is just a little (OK, a lot) of free association from Javier’s POV. Special thanks to Cat for helping with the Spanish.


They told me not to bother Don Hernán's bull.

I didn't listen.

The bull chased me and I got a spanking.

They told me not to climb the back fence.

I didn't listen.

I fell and split open my upper lip.

They told me not to fall in love with another boy.

And this is what happened.

I tucked him in before I left. I even put his stuffed
kitten under his arm just after I gave him his
good-night kiss. I would have loved nothing better
than to snuggle under the covers with him, spoon up
and take a nap myself. Not our bed to snuggle in. I
better go catch the bus home.

I remember the first time I told him how I felt. It
was difficult. The only friends I had told so far
about my preferences were Baily and Rose. Carey's
family had moved in at the beginning of the year. I
had seen him around school. Thought he was good
looking. For St. Patrick's day, he had his strawberry
blond hair dyed green and wore a t-shirt that said
"Kiss me, I'm Irish!" I had been very tempted to do
so. I had thought of making a t-shirt that said "Kiss
me, I'm Mexican!" for Cinco de Mayo, but decided
against it. When Rose had the bright idea of starting
a band, we realized we needed a guitar. I was drums,
Baily was vocals, Rose was keyboards. We put up a
couple of flyers around school. He was the only one
who showed up for the audition at Baily's house.

"Hi, I'm Carey Brennan." he said, bringing in his
guitar. "I play both acoustic and electric lead
guitar. I hear you need a guitarist for your band."

"Show us what you got, Carey." said Rose. Carey
played a few amazing chords. Then he played something
by Tesla. Rose suggested we all play something as a
band, to see if Carey would fit. I don't remember the
name of the song. I just remember the image of a
little green haired angel that played guitar like a
harp. Rose chided me for being off tempo.

Getting to know him didn't make me desire him any
less. If anything, it made me desire him more. His
witty, sardonic sense of humor. The way he sounded
when he laughed. His satiny voice. The way his long,
slim fingers tripped over the guitar strings. The way
he picked up Mateo and went "Wheeee!" on meeting him.
The clever puppet shows that he put on for my little
brother and sister. The way he would carelessly lounge
about, kicking his long, slim legs. Even his foibles
like his dirty secret that he put on make-up to hide
freckles and that he was fussy about food. It all made
me love him more. I prayed for the feelings to go
away. All my life, I was told that this was evil, that
it was a sin, but I couldn't help myself.

I kept it to myself for the longest time. Not only
did these feelings make me scared and ashamed, I
didn't want my heart broken again. Baily had been my
first crush. I had known him since we met at speech
therapy when we were about 11 or 12 years old. It was
shortly after my fifteenth birthday that I told him.
Told him about my deep dark secret. "I like boys." I
told him in the privacy of my bedroom. He wasn't angry
or upset, but what he said made me unhappy anyway. He
told me it was OK. That I probably couldn't help
liking boys anymore than he could help liking girls.
He wasn't attracted to me. Never would be. He didn't
mean to break my heart. Probably didn't realize that's
what he was doing. I decided I would try to get over
it and be happy to at least have him as a friend. I
had succeeded.

In the summer, we had gotten steady work as a band at
The Button Hole. I noticed Carey didn't flinch when I
put a friendly arm around him as Baily often did.
American men seem afraid to touch in public. Could
this boy who recently dyed his hair purple be
interested in me?

I found out one night when he invited me to his
house. "There's something great I want to tell you!"
he said.

"There's something I want to tell you too." I said,
watching him recline on his bed and wanting to join
him.

"Me first! I got a job as a junior counselor at a
music camp!"

"You did?"

"I'm so excited! I get to teach kids how to play
guitar and write their own songs. I wonder if we'll do
nature hikes. It is camp after all. I always hated the
sports and the hiking and crap I had to do at summer
camp. I'll bring sunscreen and calamine lotion just in
case."

"I-I'm very happy for you." I lied. "How long will
you be gone?"

"Last two weeks of July, first two weeks of August.
Oh, did you want to tell me something?"

"Carey," How to come out and say this? "Carey, do you
like boys?"

He sighed heavily and stood up. "Javier, listen, I
would never, ever do anything to hurt Mateo."

"I don't mean like little boys!" This was coming out
all wrong. I sighed. It was now or never. "Carey, I
love you. God forgive me, but I love you."

Delight of delights, he actually smiled at me! "Then
God forgive us both." He touched my cheek and kissed
me. My first kiss. I felt so wobbly I had to grab him
to keep from falling. It did no good. We both fell
together on his bed. Long story short, our make-out
session ended with us grinding our clothed groins
together. When he left for camp, we sent each other
letters. It seemed more romantic than e-mail.

I spent many hours in Carey's room with him. My room
was not ideal for intimacy. My large family made it
difficult for us to get privacy. Sedita walked in on
us embracing once. Thank God she was young enough to
fall for the "He had something in his eye." line.
Also, I have a crucifix hanging on the wall of my
room. Carey said it gave him the creeps. "I can't kiss
you while a Dead Jesus is watching us!" he once said.

So, we spent a lot of time in his room. His parents
thought we were just studying, or watching TV or
playing video games. We did that. And more. We first
saw each other naked when playing Truth or Dare in his
room. I'd make his Spanish homework a little more fun
by teaching him the words he'd never learn in Miss
Long's class. I taught him how to dance. I have
natural rhythm and he's rather graceful. It takes all
of my self control not to strip him down and have my
way with him when we do a tango. He taught me how to
play Mario Kart. Sometimes we'd play for blow jobs. We
made love for the first time when his parents went
away for the weekend. And sometimes, we'd just lie on
his bed together and talk.

"You've got a cute, fuzzy mustache." he told me once,
running a finger over it.

"Want to know a secret?" I asked him. "I grew it out
because I have a scar on my upper lip. When I was
eight years old, I was climbing a fence I was told not
to climb, slipped and split my lip open. I ran home
crying and bleeding. Mamá was so upset when she saw me
she almost dropped Mateo! She told María Beatriz and
Antonio to watch Mateo and Conchita while she bundled
me off to the doctor. We lived in a very poor
neighborhood then. The doctor didn't have any
anesthesia. Mamá held me down while he sewed me up. It
hurt really bad. I think that's the only time I can
remember seeing Mamá cry."

"Poor baby." said Carey, kissing my cheek.

"I don't need sympathy. I was a bad little boy who
did something he shouldn't."

"Oh, you're still a bad little boy!" Carey giggled.
"So, when did you start growing facial hair?"

"Just a few days shy of my fourteenth birthday. Papá
was so proud. He took me to the bathroom and taught me
how to shave. 'My little boy's a man, now!' he said."
Papá's been avoiding me since I returned home. Is he
ashamed of me? Does he not think of me as a man now?

"I wish I had some facial hair. It would make me
look cool, don't you think?"

"Bonito, you have a pretty face. Why do you want to
ruin it with hair?" He does have a very pretty face.
It looks so pure and innocent. That's why I call him
'bonito' sometimes.

"I want to look more, well, grown up, I guess." he
said as he sat up.

"You're plenty grown up." I told him, leaning on an
elbow and looking at him. He may have been young and
innocent looking, but I knew the truth. "Anyone ever
tell you you look a lot like Leonardo DiCaprio?"

"Oh, I do not."

"Pues, maybe not so with the purple hair. But you
have that lovely porcelain face and sky blue eyes. I
think I first figured out I was gay when I was
watching *Titanic.* I sat through it three times in a
row, and realized it wasn't Leo's acting ability I
admired."

"So you think Leo's hot?" He folded his arms. "What
am I? Chopped liver?"

I thought he might only be pretending to be angry,
but I wasn't sure. "Bonito, he's a movie star. I'll
probably never meet him. And if I do, I'll be lucky if
I can get an autograph from him."

"You think he's sexier than me." Carey said, turning
away from me.

"I do not!" Little tease. I'd show him. "I don't get
mad at you for being hot for Antonio Banderas."

"I'm not hot for him. I think he's a good actor with
a fine singing voice."

"Sí, that's all. Carey, you are the only man in
America who owns a copy of *Evita* and skips over all
the scenes with Madonna in them."

"Well, I don't like Madonna. She's a ho." I couldn't
help myself. Carey sounded so funny saying that, that
I collapsed with laughter. "Laughing at me isn't going
to score you any points!"

"I wasn't laughing at you, querido. You just sounded
so funny just now. Like that guy from Kids in the Hall."

"Oh, you want funny?" Carey smirks at me. "Here's
your Leo DiCrappy-ho." He knelt on the floor and
clung to his bed as if it were a life boat. "Never let
go! Whatever you do, don't ever let go! Glub, glub,
glub...." He pretended to drown.

"You know, I cried the first time I saw that." I
confessed to him.

"Really? I laughed."

"Are you ever serious?"

"No. And admit it, you wouldn't like me so much if I was."

He had me there. "You're right, cariño. I'm sorry if
I hurt your feelings by laughing at you."

"Well, I didn't laugh at you for crying over Titanic."

"How can I make it up to you?" I ask, draping my arms
over his shoulders.

"Well..." he smiles. "You could try getting naked for me."

"Want me to do a strip tease, or just plain get
naked?" We often put music on Carey's stereo to drown
out any sounds we might make. Sometimes we make up
erotic stripping dances for each other.

"Let me undress you." he decided.

It was kind of nice to let Carey undress me. I'm
usually the aggressor when it comes to sex. Maybe I
just like being in control. Maybe I like being the one
to make him thrill with excitement. I don't know. But,
every once in a while, it's nice to receive. Carey
unbuttoned my shirt and fondled by bare chest and back
for a while before taking it off. He licked my nipples
while undoing my fly. I was so hard! He had my jeans
off pretty quickly. My hard on was making a bulge in
my jockeys. Carey slid a hand under the elastic, and
oh so gently touched my cock, covering as much as he
could with one hand. He used the other hand to gently
pull them off. I could have kissed him! I've been hurt
by popping elastic a few times in a rush to get my underwear off.

It was just the opposite of today's incident in his
hospital room. I was naked and he was clothed. He
gently stroked my dick and seemed to be admiring it.
His fingers dipped lower, stroking my balls and making
me groan. His fingers dipped lower, touching that
extra sensitive bit of skin. I was shuddering with
pleasure and whispering his name. His fingers went even lower.

"Carey," I grabbed his wrist. "Before you go there,
there's something I have to do." I put his fingers in
my mouth and licked and sucked on them.

"What?...oh...." I wasn't sure if the "Oh" was from
understanding or from pleasure. Maybe both. I didn't
let go until I had his fingers good and wet. I never
had anything down there before, so I wanted him good and slick.

First one slid inside me. It wasn't bad. Unfamiliar.
A little invasive. Somewhat tickly. Two fingers. I
could really feel it now. Especially when he started
doing a scissors move on me. It was half pain, half
pleasure. His long, slim fingers slid around inside
me. They hit something that made me jerk around with
pleasure. Something deep inside me was buzzing liquid
joy into my veins whenever Carey's fingers brushed it.
"Looks like I found your G-spot." he said smugly.

"Men don't have G-spots." I gasped.

"I found something that makes you feel good, Javi.
Want me to try three fingers?"

"Carey, I want you! I want you inside me! I want your
long, hard dick!"

"Do you really want me, Javi?"

"Sí! Sí!" I was panting, I was so horny. "Fóllame,
Carey!" I sometimes slip into Spanish when I'm
excited. "Fóllame con tu pene lindo!"

"In English?" he asked, getting undressed.

"Fuck me with your beautiful cock!"

"You sure?" I could see he was as aroused I was.

"I am."

"OK, but, I've never tried it like this before."

"Makes two of us, cariño."

He knelt between my legs and touched the head of his
dick against my opening. "I love you very much,
Javier." he said, just before he pushed himself
inside. I nearly bit my tongue in half trying not to
scream out. "Does-does it hurt?" he asked.

"Carey, just move." I sighed. He smiled and started
thrusting. The pain wasn't completely gone, but it was
subsiding. Turning into something warm and pleasurable.

"You're so tight, Javi!" he declared. "And you feel
so good!" I couldn't say anything. I was breathing
through my teeth. My body was still dangling on a thin
line of pleasure and pain. He must've realized my
discomfort because he took both of my hands and gently
said "Breathe deep, now, remember to breathe."

"Are you fucking me or helping me deliver a baby?" I joked.

"I think I'm doing a little more than just fucking
you, sweetheart." he said, giving me slow, deep
thrusts. "I'm loving you the way you love me. I want
to get so close to you that we become one. I want to
share my soul with you, Javi." His words were getting
to me even more than his deep thrusts were. I wanted
so much to pull him close to me and tell him how
dearly loved he was. His dick was thudding against
that spot up inside me. His hand was wrapping around
my dick, gently pulling it as he pushed inside me. I
don't think I'll ever forget the look on his face. His
face is so innocent looking, but when he's sexually
excited, he gets this really sexy look. His head is
thrown back, hair streaming everywhere. His mouth
pulls back in a gasping grin. His eyes flutter, then
pop open when he has his orgasm. His thrusts started
going faster. "Oh, God, Javi! I'm so close!"

He was going to come inside me. I saw him grunt and
tense up and felt him slow his stokes. "No," he
gasped. "I'm not going to come until you do." He
started squeezing my dick all the harder, running his
fingers over the underside, the way he knows I like
it. "What can I do to make you come, Javi?"

"Háblame." I gasped. "Talk to me. Like you were earlier."

"Javi, I love you so much." he gasped. "I can't
imagine doing this with anyone but you."

"Even Antonio Banderas?"

"Aw, you're sexier than him. So very sexy." He was running his free hand over my body. That was making me tingle.

"Keep doing that!" I begged.

One hand was stroking my side while the other was
masturbating me. I felt fingers stroke the tip. "I
think you're close." he said, using my precum to coat
my penis. He jolted inside me. "Whoa, I'm almost there
too! Come with me, Javi!"

I love the way orgasm feels. Like flying and falling
all at once. It's not bad when I bring myself to
orgasm, once I get over the guilt. Somehow, I don't
feel guilty with Carey. I should, but I don't. I feel
so right with him. It's like every cell in my body is
dancing with happiness.

Carey's face is sexy when he's coming, but his
post-sex face is just beautiful. The innocence is back
in his features. He smiles so sweetly. His hair is
mussed and he's sometimes a bit shiny with
perspiration. He kissed me on the chin as he removed
himself from me. I almost asked him to put it back in.
I felt so empty without him. He pulled his blanket
over us. "I'm a little chilly." he said.

"Want me to warm you up?" I offered. We snuggled
under the covers and took a long nap together.

Oh, bus is here. I've got to stop thinking about sex
while waiting for the bus. I take an empty seat and
look at my reflection in the window. I look like Hell.
I haven't been sleeping well, I guess. I tell my
rosary every night, hoping I won't have nightmares
about that day. It doesn't work. Why? Is it a divine
punishment? What have I done? It must be something I
did. Carey did nothing. Nothing I didn't want him to do.

I remember the last lunch we shared together. The
calm before the storm. I had no idea that this may
well be the last moment we had together. Perhaps that
was for the best. We had agreed to meet under the
bleachers by the football field. I never really
developed a taste for what Americans call "fast food".
(Might be fast, but the Styrofoam would taste better.)
I would rather starve than eat the junk they serve at
the cafeteria. So, I bring my own. Carey brought his
lunch too. We had a nice picnic under the bleachers.

"Peanut butter and jelly?" I critiqued his choice of
sandwich. "How old are you again?"

"Old enough to know better." he said between bites.
"Too young to care."

He had brown bagged some chips as well. "Frito's?"

"Now don't get upset, babe." he said, opening the
cellophane. "They retired the Frito Bandito decades
ago. You can't taste racism!"

"And you're washing it down with a Coke and, what do
you call this again?" I took out the snack cake he had
also packed. "An Uh-Oh?"

"That's Ho-Ho." he said. "And what did you bring, Mr.
Health Nazi?"

"You really shouldn't throw the word 'Nazi' around
like that." People tend to forget just how awful the
Nazis were. So many have forgotten how they treated
homosexuals.

"Alright, I'm sorry." he said, taking a swig of Coke.
"So, what did you bring?"

"I brought two chicken wraps." I said, taking them
out. "Like one?"

"You didn't put any habeñeros on them, did you?" he
asked cautiously.

"No, Carey, just because my father likes setting his
mouth on fire doesn't mean I do."

He took one. "You should eat more healthy foods." I
told him, taking a bag of grapes out of the container.
"I don't want you to keel over from a heart attack
before you turn eighteen."

"I got my mom's metabolism." said Carey. "I can eat
anything and barely put on an ounce. Look, I'll eat
some grapes if you'll eat some Frito's, OK?"

"Open wide." I told him. He opened up and I put a
grape inside. His mouth closed on my fingers, sucking
on them. I started thinking of other parts he could be
sucking on. I managed to take my fingers out before
all the blood left my brain. We had an unspoken
agreement- not at school. I'm just not one of those
guys who can have sex and then just comb his hair and
toddle off to algebra like nothing happened. I don't
think Carey is either. I ate a few of the corn chips.
Not all that bad, but very salty.

"You think anyone can see us under here?" he asked.

"Why?" I asked, wiping the salt from my fingers. "You
wanna have sex?"

"Oh, could we?" he asked with mock enthusiasm.

"Eat your chips." I said, giving them back. I was
thirsty now. I reached in the container for the bottle.

"You hypocrite." said Carey. "You rag on me for
eating junk food, and look what you're drinking!"

"What? It has milk in it." I brought one of those
Starbucks iced mochachinos.

"How many cups of coffee did you have this morning?"

"Only one." I never could lie to him. "OK, one and a half."

"You'll stunt your growth."

"Six feet is tall enough anyway."

"Here's to our friend caffeine, then." he said as he
lifted his soda can. We tapped our drinks together.

"¡Salud!" I said, drinking the toast.

"What's that mean?" he asked, after sipping some Coke.

"It means 'cheers' in Spanish." I told him.

"I'd like to go to Mexico someday." He positioned
himself so his head lay in my lap. I ate the wrap and
tried to ignore how close he was to me. "Like to see
where you grew up."

"It was no place interesting." I told him. "Nothing
but miles of red clay and adobe houses."

"I think any place that had you would be interesting."

"Trying to flatter me?"

"Is it working?"

I looked down at him. He was smiling up at me. Just
too adorable! "Sit up." I asked him.

"What for?" he asked as he sat up.

"So I can do this." I pulled his face forward and
softly kissed those beautiful lips.

He was kissing back. Then he stiffened, not in a good
way. "What was that?" he asked.

I thought I heard something in the nearby bushes
myself, but it didn't seem as important as the
beautiful little angel I was kissing. "Just a stray,
maybe." I went back to kissing him. Our kisses had
just started to heat up when the bell rang. We shared
a hearty embrace and agreed to meet after school in
the parking lot.

"You wanna do something after school?" he asked.

"You wanna do something?" I asked.

"I know I wanna do something with you." He kissed my
cheek. "Later, babe!" The next time I saw him, he was
laid out on the pavement, bleeding and battered. Brad
and Mike may as well ripped out my soul and shredded it.

As I replay it in my mind, I realize that Mrs.
Brennan was right. This was my fault. I kissed him. I
might as well have marked him for death. I ignored the
sound in the bushes because I wanted to kiss him some
more. What was I thinking? There's a good reason why
we hide our hugs and kisses from the world. I gave
Carey the kiss of death. God, Jesus and Mary, what
have I done? Carey, I'm so sorry. I pull the cord to
signal the driver. My stop is blocks away, but I can't
break down and cry on the bus.

I find a deserted area behind the dumpster in a back
lot where I can sit and be alone. Oh, God, what have I
done? I bury my face in my hands and let the tears
come. Why? Why did I have to kiss him? Because he
looks cute when he smiles? That's not his fault. He
noticed something was wrong, but I brushed it off. If
Karly hadn't saved him, that may have been our last
kiss. I remember being eager to leave when the final
bell rang. I have Mrs. Chapman's English for last
period. She asked me to stay. She just wanted to tell
me that I had shown some great improvement and that she
found my essay on *Romeo and Juliet* insightful. Lovely.
Great positive enforcement. But I had someone waiting
for me. I politely bowed out of our conversation and
hurried off to the parking lot to meet Carey.

I heard some people yelling "Fight! Fight! Fight!" My
first thought was that Carey hated fights and would
probably be somewhere else. Then, I took a look and
saw it was Carey in the fight. No. That's not the
right word. Someone who's in a fight would give as
good as they got. This was a beating, pure and simple.
My Carey was getting tortured by Brad and Mike.

I don't clearly remember what happened. I just flew
into a rage. That was my Carey. My bonito. They were
damaging my angel. I dimly remember screaming at Brad
(or was it Mike?) while swinging a fist at his head. I
also sort of remember them starting to gang up on
Rose. I couldn't let them beat up on her either. The
next thing I remember, I'm on the ground getting
cuffed. A police officer made me get up and get in the
back of a police car with Rose and Claudia, who were
also handcuffed. "Welcome to the party." Claudia said
grimly. I don't know how she could joke at a time
like this. Carey could've been dead for all I knew,
and we never even got to say good-bye.

I wanted so much to be with him. To hold him. To
dress his wounds, kiss him and tell him it would be
alright. Even if he was dying, he deserved to have
someone to hold his hand and comfort him.

At the station, there was the booking, the finger
printing, the photos. I didn't feel much like
answering any questions. Turns out, that if I didn't
have a lawyer present, I didn't have to. I love this
country. At first they thought I didn't speak
English. This caused them to talk to me like I was
three years old and half deaf. They made me turn out
my pockets and hand over everything I was carrying
save for the clothes on my back. They even took my
belt and shoelaces. They wanted my Celtic knot too.
The little pendant Carey had given me for my birthday.
I reluctantly handed it over, assured I would get it
back. I was led to a cell. The cops were smart enough
to know putting me with Brad and Mike would be a very
bad idea, so I had it to myself. I was told I'd be
allowed my one phone call in a few minutes. I laid on
the bunk and stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to
make some sense out of what happened.

When I was led out to make my phone call, I decided
to call Antonio. Mamá and Papá never had much in the
way of money, but lately, Antonio's been bragging
about how much money he's been making in sales.
Bailing me out probably won't break him. I called the
cell number he gave me.

"Hello, Antonio Pena speaking."

"¿Antonio? ¿Soy yo, Javier." (Antonio? It's me, Javier.)

"¡Javier! ¿Cómo está mi hermanito?" (Javier! How is my
little brother?)

We continued the rest of the conversation in Spanish.
"Antonio, estoy en un apuro." (Antonio, I'm in trouble.)

"¿Javier? ¿Qué pasa? ¿Dónde estás?" (Javier? What
happened? Where are you?)

"Me arrestaron" (I was arrested.)

"Que te QUÉ?!" (You were WHAT?!)

"Por favor, Antonio, necesito que me vengas a buscar."
(Please, Antonio, I need you to come get me.)

"¿Por qué demonios te arrestaron?" (What the hell were you arrested for?)

"Realmente importa?" (Does it matter?)

"Javier Tomás Cristofer...."

"Estaba en una pelea, ok? Antonio, le hicieron mucho daño a Carey." (I was in a fight, OK? Antonio, they hurt Carey so badly.)

"Y a ti?" (And what about you?)

I hadn't stopped to think about that. I was sore in
various areas and my left eye was throbbing. "Antonio,
venme a buscar." (Antonio, come get me.)

"Bien, bien, voy a ir. ¡Pero no te voy a esconder de Mamá o de
Papá! Te voy a llevar derechito a la casa y les voy a contar en los lios que andas metido, ¿entendiste? (Fine, fine,I'm coming. But I'm not hiding you from Mamá or Papá!I'm taking you straight home and telling them what a mess you've made of yourself. Understand?)

"Sí, entiendo." (Yes, I understand.) My one phone
call spent, I was taken back to the cell.

Antonio came for me and gave me a good cussing out in
Spanish. By now, the words were wasted on me. I felt
nothing. No sadness, no anger, just numbness. Like
everything vital had just been bled out of me. Antonio
was still lecturing me when we drove home in his El
Camino. "Do you have any idea how hard I have to work
to make people forget the stereotype of the criminal
Latino?" He asked. He didn't wait for an answer.
"You've become a stereotype, Javier! A fucking
stereotype!" Yeah, the ass kicking fag is such an
overused stereotype. "Mamá and Papá are going to
ground your ass. You see if they don't!"

Actually, once Papá heard my reason, he didn't mind
much. "What was the boy supposed to do?" he asked.
"You don't stand by and let others hurt your friend."

"He didn't have to go and get himself hurt!" said
Mamá. She got a bag of frozen vegetables out of the
freezer. "Put this on your eye, querido." she told me.
My eye started to become as numb as I was inside. "Sit
down, take off that shirt. How did it get ripped like
that?" I wasn't sure either. Mamá got the bandages and
peroxide. I was so numb I couldn't even feel the sting
of my wounds being cleaned. "Fighting, really, I
thought you knew better than that!"

"Ángela, boys will be boys." said Papá. "A real man
has to look out for his friends and family. I'm sure
Carey would have done the same for him." I nearly
broke down after hearing his name. "This happened all
the time when I was Javier's age. This one time, me
and my compadre Franco got jumped by some thugs with
stilettos this long...."

"Carlos," Mamá said evenly. "Why do you think we left
Mexico? So our children wouldn't have to fight!"

Antonio and Papá left us in the kitchen soon after.
Mamá has a way of getting the last word in arguments.
"I understand, querido." she said as she ran a cold
rag over my bruised knuckles. "I understand how much
Carey means to you." You don't know the half of it,
Mamá. "He's like a brother, isn't he?" I didn't
answer. "I wonder if you remember a story I read to
you when you were very little. *El Principito.*" In
English, the story is called *The Little Prince.*
Written by some French pilot who crashed in the
Sahara. "The Prince met a fox and became his friend."
Mamá reminded me as she bandaged a cut made by Brad's
cleats. "The fox was just a fox, no different from a
hundred thousand other foxes. But to the Prince, he
was special. And even though the Prince was just a
boy, no different from a hundred thousand other boys,
he was special to the fox. The Prince felt responsible
for his fox, just like he felt responsible for his
rose. That's what happens when we let people near our
hearts, Javier. It may hurt sometimes, but, to care
means to grow, to be alive."

"Mamá," I said. "Remember when 'What Would Jesus Do?'
bracelets were in a while ago?" I asked her.

"I believe I remember seeing something like that for
sale at the grocery store."

"Mamá, would Jesus have done what I did?"

"Jesus said 'whosoever shall smite thee on thy right
cheek, turn to him the other also.'"

"What if it's someone else's cheek?"

"Well, He did say 'Whatever thou doest to the least
of my brothers, so you do unto me.' and 'Greater love
hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for
his friends.' He took a whip to the moneylenders in
His temple. I think you did what you thought was
right, Javier." She bandaged up a few wounds. "I just
wish you could've done something without getting hurt.
This really isn't like you at all, Javier. You've
always been such a quiet child. Antonio was the one
always getting into fights." And he has the nerve to
scold me for fighting? "He'd get into trouble after
being egged on by his friends. You didn't need anyone
to get you in trouble. You did that on your own.
Mostly your curiosity just got the better of you. But,
you were both mostly good boys."

"Mamá, does Jesus love everyone?"

"What a question! Of course he does."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone." Her tone and the look on her face told me
that I was included. "Like a good father, He wants us
to know when we're doing something bad, but he loves
us. Never doubt that. Now, I have to make dinner. Do
you still need those frozen vegetables? Oh, I'll use
the canned corn. You take a couple of asprin and lie
down." I thought about calling the Brennans to ask
about Carey, but decided against it. They had enough problems.

I had the worst nightmare of my life that night.
Carey was in my arms, mangled, cold, his life slipping
away. I begged him not to leave me, but he quietly
died in my arms. I screamed myself awake. Woke up
everyone in the house. Mamá shooed everyone away from
my room and held me, just as she did when I was
little. She told me I'd feel better if I prayed. I
wasn't sure if God would listen to a prayer by a gay
man for a gay man, but there was nothing else I could do.

It's getting late. I should go home. I start walking.
I hate it when I get in these dreary moods. I worry
about turning into some whiney emo kid. I don't
usually get in moods like this. I don't think I've
ever felt so sad or helpless. What's wrong with me?
Just hours ago, Carey and I were having some fun,
playful sex. Seeing his bruises upset me, but I was
able to push it to the back of my mind.

Carey is the best sex partner I could ask for. He's
got a body that seems to be made for kisses and
caresses. He's fun and caring, both in and out of bed.
He makes some of the most beautiful sounds I've ever
heard when I make love to him.

Today had been fun. We need to role play a little
more often. "Playing doctor" meant I got to put my
hands anywhere I wanted. It meant I could take care of
him. I wanted him to feel good all over, to make up for
the pain he's been through. I can still picture the
smile on his face. The smile I put there.

The sky is purple with sunset by the time I get home.
The steady whine of locusts can be heard. Mateo is on
the front porch, playing with one of those robots that
turn into cars. "Hi, Javi." he says as I approach the
steps.

"Hey, hermanito." I sit next to him. "What is that?"

"This is Nebulon." He says, holding up the toy. "He
can shoot lasers that can bust planets wide open!"

"How useful." I comment.

"You're still sad about Carey."

What do you know? My little brother's starting to
develope compassion. "He's getting better." I tell
him. "He's off the respirator. He needs a wheelchair
to get around, but he's getting better."

"Why are Mamá and Papá mad at you, Javier?" he asks.
"I think what you did was cool! Like, this one time on
Lucha Libre, El Toro Rojo was fighting Señor Diablo
when El Serpiente jumped in the ring and hit El Toro
with a folding chair. He and Señor Diablo were both
beating up on El Toro Rojo and everyone was booing and
whistling cuz it ain't right for two people to beat up
on one person. Then, El Avispón Dorado jumped in and
started punching El Serpiente and Señor Diablo. La Dama
de Diamantes sprung off the ropes and gave El Serpiente
a kick in the head. Usually the luchadoras don't get
in fights with the men, but they were really hurting
El Toro Rojo."

"Mateo, what you see on Lucha Libre isn't real." I
tell him. "It's all an act. None of them were really
getting hurt. I'm sure they had this all planned out
before hand."

He just shrugs. "It's still wrong to gang up on
someone. How come everyone's mad at you? Even Antonio
won't stay in the same room with you. I wish everything could be normal again, Javi. Just so we can be a family."

"Hermanito, we'll always be a family." I put a hand
on his shoulder. I sigh. "It's like this, they're mad
at me because...because I'm gay."

"Kids at school use that word a lot." says Mateo.
"When they don't like something, they say 'That's so
gay' or 'He's so gay'. I'm not even that sure what it
means."

"Mateo, it isn't right for people to use that word
like that." I tell him. "What it means is, I like
Carey more than as a friend. I love him, Mateo. The
way Mamá and Papá love each other. The way Triza loves
her boyfriend. It's one of those things you'll
understand when you're older."

"They're mad at you cuz you love Carey?" His eight
year old mind is trying to piece it together.

"Mamá and Papá don't think I should love another boy.
But, people love who they love."

"I love you, Javi." he says, putting tiny arms around me.

"I love you too, hermanito." I put an arm around him.
Nice to know someone in the family hasn't disowned me.

"What are you doing?" I hear Papá's voice behind us.
I sigh and let Mateo go. "It's getting late. Inside.
Both of you." We go inside. "Mateo, do you have some
homework or anything?"

"No."

"Well, go find something to do!" As soon as he's
gone, Papá speaks to me for the first time since the
truth about me came out. "Javier, I don't want you
influencing Mateo."

"What do you mean by 'influencing'?" Does this mean
I'm not allowed to hug my little brother anymore?

"Mateo may have reached the age of reason, but he is
still a very impressionable boy. We want him to be
raised in the Faith. This- this thing you have with
Carey is completely against our beliefs."

"And those condoms you gave me weren't?"

"I thought you were seeing a girl!"

"Nice to be able to pick and choose your beliefs, isn't it?"

"Don't you talk to me like that! I'm your father!"

"Yes, You're my father."

"And I am Mateo's father. And, if I may remind you,
you are not. You are not to discuss homosexuality with
him. And if you ever touch him inappropriately, you'll
be out of this house so fast your head will swim!"

"Papá," I must stay calm. Must stay calm. "I would
never do anything to hurt Mateo. I love him, as a
brother." I add the last three words quickly. "That's
all he'll ever be to me. My little brother. I would
never do anything bad with him or any other child for
that matter. I've never wanted to. Papá, not all gay
people are pedophiles. In fact, most of them aren't."

"You just let me and your mother raise him as we see
fit." He stalks off, determined to have the last word.
I have nothing to do but retreat to my room.

As I lay on my bed, I remember a very different
conversation I had months ago with Papá. I asked him
if I could borrow his truck for the night. Just as he
was handing over the keys he said "So, who's the lucky girl?"

"What girl?" I responded.

"I'm not so foolish, son!" He laughed as he patted me
on the back. "You just spent a good hour in the
bathroom. Showered, shaved, combed your hair, is that
Brute you're wearing?" He had an arm around me. I
guess he was close enough to smell. "And I saw you
brush your teeth. When I was your age, I only brushed
my teeth at four in the afternoon if I was planning to
meet a girl. So, who is she? Someone from church? School?"

"I-I'd rather not say."

"You can tell me."

"Papá, I'd rather not."

"Whoever she is, I know you've been with her for
awhile. You leave here smelling like Brute and come
back smelling like Safeguard." I've had to shower a
couple of times at Carey's place. "I'm not mad at you,
son. A boy your age has needs. Now, don't tell your
mother, but I got you something." That's when he gave
me the condoms.

"I-I don't need these." I was sure I was blushing as
I tried to hand them back.

"Oh, I think you do!" he laughed. "Javi, I know it's
not exactly within our beliefs, but I'd rather you use
these than have some girl turn up on our doorstep with
a baby and claiming you're the father."

"Papá, I promise, that will never happen." One
promise I can keep.

"It won't happen, if you use these." He insistantly
put the condoms in my hands. "Javier, I know the
Church isn't exactly crazy about condoms, but think of
it this way. The girl's family might make her get an
abortion. This," He put the condoms in my hand. "Is
the lesser of two evils. Remember, our secret. Don't
tell your mother about the condoms, and I won't tell
her you're seeing a girl. But, really, Javier, we
would like to meet her."

"Thanks, Papá." I said, not sure what I was thanking
him for. "Can I go now?"

"Go right ahead, big boy!" he said, slapping me on
the back. "Go make that girl happy!"

The truth was, I planned to pick up Carey. There was
this carnival just outside town we wanted to go to.
That was a fun evening. We dropped our no PDA rules
for the evening and just had fun. Everyone must've
thought we were just a couple of teenagers goofing
off. We held hands on the scary rides. I carried him
piggyback through the fun house. He won a sombrero for
me at one of the arcades. I told him it was a pathetic
stereotype; he told me I looked cute in it anyway.

"There's one more ride I want to go on before we go
home." Carey said as we walked through the parking lot.

"Carey, we're about to leave." I said, getting out the keys."

"Sweetheart, you are the ride I wanna go on." He
gently pushed me against the cab of the truck and
kissed me. We were standing between a pick-up and an
SUV, good cover for a hidden kiss. We had only
recently started our sexual relationship. I was
wondering if he'd ever get enough of me. Would I ever
get enough of him? He tasted like lemonade. His warm
mouth was caressing mine. One hand was stroking my
face. The other was gripping my shoulders. I was
wearing a silly hat and the door handle was digging
against my back, but I was having the time of my life!
I pulled him close to me and realized we were both
getting hard just from kissing. I had just enough
blood in my brain to realize that a parking lot
outside a busy carnival was not the ideal place for sex.

"In the truck, querido." I gasped between kisses.
"I'll take us somewhere."

I found a quiet place far out, just off the road,
sheltered by rows and rows of trees. We got out, left
the radio on for some background music and laid in the
back bed, looking up at the stars as they twinkled
through the branches, a tarp under us. It was the last
days of summer. Still warm out. I thought it might be
good to talk a bit before taking the plunge. "My
father suspects something's going on." I told him. "He
thinks I'm seeing a girl. He gave me some condoms."

"I thought Catholics didn't believe in condoms." He said.

"Papá says he doesn't want some girl turning up on
our doorstep claiming I'm the father of her baby. Considering that we're practically the only Latino family in the neighborhood, it wouldn't be hard to prove."

"Well, that's the up side of being gay, Javi." Carey
smiled at me. "No unexpected babies. All we need
condoms for is AIDS. I'm going to take your word for
it that you haven't been with anyone else." I haven't.
"You haven't, right?"

"Carey, I swear, you're the only one."

"No touchy-feely priests or anything?"

"Carey, not all priests are like that."

"Alright. And you know how far I've gone." He
confessed it when we were playing Truth or Dare one
night. When he was younger, he had done tongue kissing
and hand jobs at summer camp with other boys his age,
but that's as far as it went. "I haven't seen any
track marks on your arms." That's true. Heroine just
seems like a very stupid way to kill yourself to me.
"And I've told you how I feel about needles. I had to be dragged kicking and screaming to get a flu shot."

“Many small children are afraid of doctors.”

“This was last winter.”

"I've never needed a blood transfusion." I told him. "You?"

"No. But, they've been screening donated blood since
the mid 80's, so no one worries about catching AIDS
that way anymore."

"I'm afraid Mexico isn't as careful about testing
blood as they are in America."

"They need to be! People are dying from this, Javier."
"Sí, but we don't have to worry about it. There's no
way I could have it. There's no way you could have it.
As long as we're both faithful to each other, we'll
have nothing to worry about." Ah, how naive I was then.

"And there's no way either of us could possibly get
pregnant." He smiled at me. "So let's party!" He
pulled me into a deep kiss. I felt his hands stroke me
everywhere. I wrapped my arms around him, pulled him
so close to me. I massaged his firm, round ass through
his jeans and felt his hard on as he humped my leg.

Carey was the first to take off his shirt. "Ooh,
colder than I thought." he said as I watched his tiny
nipples pucker. "But I know what will warm me up." He
cuddled close to me. I had to take off my shirt and
feel all that sweet, smooth skin against me. It wasn't
too cold. The night breeze was brisk. Carey was so
amazingly warm. I kissed his neck just to hear him
whimper for me. He captured my lips and thrust his
tongue inside. My bonito's talented tongue was sending
jolts all through me. "Wanna try something naughty?"
he whispered to me.

"What do you have in mind?"

"You ever hear of a 69?"

Triza subscribes to *Cosmopolitan.* When she's done
with the issues, I sometimes look at them. I could
care less about women's fashion, it's the articles
with names like "Five New Sex Tricks to Try on Your
Man Tonight!" that I'm interested in. "I've read about
it." I confessed.

"Wanna try it?"

The 69 position I've read about assumes the lovers
are a man and a woman, but I could see how two men
could go about it. "Let's go for it!" I don't think
two pairs of pants ever come off faster. Underwear
soon followed. Carey. Naked Carey. Skin glowing soft
white by the moonlight. Tan freckles scattered on his
shoulders. A coy smile with sky blue eyes peering
behind deep purple bangs. Those long, slender limbs. A
pale plane of chest and stomach. And the prize jewel,
a red, hot staff jutting from a nest of blond curls.
"You gonna go down on me or just enjoy the view?" he
asked. As nice as the view is, I need some relief now.

We got into the position easily enough. I took him in
as easily as he took me. We'd both done oral on each
other before and loved it. Doing it at the same time
was new, thrilling, erotic. I could feel him suck on
me with all the same passion and intensity I was
giving to him. He stroked my thighs with just his
fingertips and hummed, knowing that would make me
moan, even as he was inside me. I grabbed his
beautiful ass in both hands and squeezed as I hummed.
I suckled him as I felt his warm, wet mouth encase me.
I could smell him, touch him, taste him. And he could
do the same with me. I did all the things listed in
the latest Cosmo article "Things to do When Your Mouth
Gets Tired". I licked him. I let my lips tease just
the head. I blew on moist skin. He caught on and
started doing the same to me. They say payback's a
bitch, but right at that moment, payback was pretty
sweet. I sucked on one of my fingers for a moment,
then began to tease his opening even as I sucked on
him. He relaxed for me and let me insert a finger
inside. He moaned as I stroked his inner walls,
looking for that sweet spot that I knew would drive
him crazy.

His finger was suddenly in me too. God, I love that
boy! He found my sweet spot just as I found his. We
were both moaning and bucking at each other, forming a
ring of writhing passion. I swallowed his cum as he
pulsed inside my mouth. I came to my end not long
after. It felt fantastic! Like a rippling shimmer
tremoring over my body and just getting stronger and
stronger until the whole world shakes.

How did my hand get down my pants? I don't remember
doing that. Great, now I need a shower. Probably a
cold one. So glad my room is connected to one of the
bathrooms. I don't have to risk walking down the hall
with a guilty look on my face.

I stand in the cold spray, and remember the rest of
that evening. We lay shivering in each others' arms.
We didn't want to get dressed. We didn't want to part
from each other. Ever. "I love you so much, Javier."
he sighed as he played with my hair. "I always dreamed
about falling in love with someone someday, but I
never dreamed it would feel this good!" He hugged me
closer to him. Carey can get emotional after a really
good orgasm. I rubbed his back and kissed his neck.
"It's like I've been wrapped in something that will
keep me warm forever." He can get poetic when he's
emotional like this. He laid his head against my
chest. "I can feel your heart beat!" He said it as if
it were the most amazing thing in the world.

"It beats for you, mi bonito." I can be poetic too.

"This is what Heaven must feel like." he whispered.
Well, I don't think Heaven will really allow anything
like this, but neither will Hell. "I-I think I'm going
to love you forever, Javier. Is-is that OK with you?"

"It's more than OK, cariño." I said as I kissed him.
Oh, Carey, I love you so much. Always will. I
should've listened to you when you said you wanted to
come out. It would've been easier than the way it
happened. I should've been able to protect you. I
would've died for you. So many should'ves. So many
would'ves. Payback's a bitch.