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During sophomore year, Choto asked Fina Sales to go steady and she told him yes and Manny asked Kitty Lanas and she too. Cuéllar locked himself up in his house for a month and at school he hardly said hello to them, listen, what’s wrong, nothing, why don’t you come looking for us, why didn’t you go out with them? he didn’t feel like going out. He’s playing mysterious, they said, intriguing, kinky, bitter. But little by little he accepted it and returned to the group. Sundays, Chingolo and he would go to the matinee by themselves (little bachelors, we called them, widowers), and afterwards they would kill time any old way, hanging around, not talking or just barely let’s go here, there, hands in their pockets, listening to records at Cuéllar’s, reading comics or playing cards, and at nine they’d drop down to Salazar Park to look for the others, because at that hour we were already saying good night to our girlfriends. Did you make out asked Cuéllar, as we took off our coats, loosened our ties and rolled up our sleeves at the pool hall on Ricardo Palma Avenue, really made out, guys? his voice sick with annoyance, jealousy and irritation, and they shut up, let’s play, hand, tongue? blinking as if the smoke and the light from the bulbs were hurting his eyes, and we it made him mad, P.P.? instead of getting annoyed, why don’t you get yourself a chick and stop being a pain in the ass? and he did they French-kiss you, hacking and spitting like a drunk, till they gagged? tapping his heels, did you lift their skirts, get your pinkie in? and they the envy was eating away at him, P.P., really taste good, really nice? it was driving him crazy, better if he shut up and got started. But, never wearing down, he kept at it, now, for real, what had we done with them? how long did the girls let you kiss them? still at it, buddy? shut up, he was being a pain now, and one time Lalo got mad: shit, he was going to smash his face in, he was making like our girlfriends were putting out. We separated them and got them to be friends again, but Cuéllar couldn’t, it was stronger than he was, every Sunday the same crap: come on, how did it go? we should tell him everything, good making out?

In our senior year, Chingolo asked Baby Romero to go steady and she told him no, Tula Ramírez and she no, China Saldivar and she yes, third try’s the winner, he said, if at first you don’t succeed try, try again, happy. We celebrated in the wrestlers’ bar on San Martin Street. Silent, sulky, hunched over in his corner chair, Cuéllar downed shot after shot, stop pulling that long face, man, now it was his turn. He should pick out some chick and she’d fall for him, we told him, we’ll do the spadework for you, we would help him and our girlfriends would too. Sure, sure, I’ll pick soon, shot after shot, and suddenly, bye, he stood up: he was tired, I’m going home to bed. If he stayed he was going to cry, Manny said, and Choto because he was bottling up the urge, and Chingolo if he didn’t cry he was going to throw a fit like that other time. And Lalo: they ought to help him out, he was talking serious, we’d get him a chick even if she was a dog, and his complex would disappear. Sure, sure, we would help him, he was a good guy, a little touchy sometimes but anybody in his situation, it was understandable, he was forgiven, he was missed, he was liked, let’s drink to him, P.P., clink glasses, here’s to you.

After that, Cuéllar went to Sunday and holiday matinees all alone—we would see him in the back of the orchestra, slouched in the back rows, lighting up butt after butt, sneaking looks at the couples making out—and he got together with them only at night, at the pool hall, at Bransa, at the Tasty Cream, his face sour, good Sunday? and his voice sharp, he fine and you guys really great I bet, right?

But by summer his snit was over. We went to the beach together—to Horseshoe, not to Miraflores anymore—in the car his parents had given him for Christmas, a Ford convertible with no muffler, it paid no attention to traffic signals and deafened, terrified the pedestrians. For better or worse, he had made friends with the girls and got along with them all right, in spite of always, Cuéllar, they went around pestering him with the same thing: why don’t you ask some girl to go steady right now? So they would be five couples and we would go out in a pack all the time and they would be all over together, why don’t you do it? Cuéllar defended himself by joking, no because then they wouldn’t all fit in his mighty Ford and one of you will have to be the sacrificial victim, throwing off the scent, aren’t nine too tight? Seriously, Kitty said, everybody had a girl and he no, aren’t you tired of playing solo? He should chase Skinny Gamino, she’s dying for you, she had admitted to them the other day, at China’s house, playing truth and consequences, don’t you like her? Grab her, we’d help him, she would take him, settle on it. But he did not want to have a girlfriend and he put on the face of a renegade, I like my freedom, and of a skirt chaser, he was better off single. Your freedom for what, said China, to do nasty things? and Chabuca, to go around making out? and Kitty, with cheap girls? and he the face of a mystery man, maybe, of a pimp? maybe and of a profligate: could be. Why don’t you ever come to our parties? said Fina, you used to come to all of them and you were so much fun and danced so good, what happened to you Cuéllar? And he shouldn’t be such a drag, come and sometime you’ll meet a chick you like and you’ll fall for her. But he no way, waste of time, our parties bored him, old before his time, he didn’t go because he had better ones where I enjoy myself more. What’s wrong with you is you don’t like decent girls, they said, and he as friends sure and they only the easy ones, the trashy ones, the brassy ones and, suddenly, P.P., yes, I like I l-l-l-like, began, d-d-d-decent g-g-girls, to stutter, j-j-j-just n-not S-s-s-ski-n-n-n-n-ny Gamino, they you already squirmed out and he b-b-b-besides th-th-th-there’s n-no t-t-t-time f-f-for t-t-tests, and the guys leave him alone, we stuck up for him, you’re not going to convince him, he’s got his little plans, his little secrets, step on it man, look at that sun, the Horseshoe must be sizzling, floor the gas, make the mighty Ford fly.

We would swim in front of the Seagulls and, while the four couples sunned themselves on the beach, Cuéllar showed off surfing. Let’s go, that one that’s building, Chabuca said, that gigantic one, can you? P.P. jumped to his feet, she’d hit on just what he liked, at least he could beat us at that: he was going to try it, Chabuquita, look. He dashed—he ran sticking his chest out, throwing his head back—he plunged into the water, pushed forward with good strokes, kicking in unison, how good he swims said Kitty, he reached the peak of the wave just as it was going to break, look he’s going to ride it, he dared to said China, he stayed afloat and scarcely putting his head under, one arm rigid and the other striking out, cutting the water like a champion, we saw him rise to the crest of the wave, fall with it, disappear in an uproar of foam, look, look he’s going to get knocked down in one of those said Fina, and they saw him reappear and come in swept along by the wave, his body arched, his head out, his feet crossed in the air, and we saw him reach the shore effortlessly, nudged by the surf.

What a good surfer, the girls said while Cuéllar turned around against the undertow, waved good-bye to us and struck out to sea again, he was so nice, and really good-looking too, why didn’t he have a girlfriend? The boys looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes, Lalo laughed, Fina what’s wrong with them, why the horse laughs, tell us, Choto blushed, because that’s why, it’s nothing and besides what’re you talking about, what horse laughs, she don’t play dumb and he no, he wasn’t playing dumb, honest. He didn’t have one because he’s shy, Chingolo said, and Kitty he wasn’t, what was he going to be, more like a smart aleck and Chabuca then why not? He’s hunting but not finding, said Lalo, he’ll ask somebody soon and China wrong, he wasn’t hunting, he never went to parties, and Chabuca then why? They know, said Lalo, cross my heart, hope to die, they know and they were playing dumb, why? in order to worm it out of them, if they didn’t know how come so many whys, so many funny looks, so much bitchiness in their voices. And Choto: no, you’re wrong, they didn’t know, they were innocent questions, the girls felt sorry for him because he didn’t have a chick at his age, they feel sorry he goes around alone, they wanted to help him. Maybe they don’t know but one of these days they’re going to, Chingolo said, and it’d be his fault, what would it cost him to make a pass at some girl even though it was just to throw them off the track? and Chabuca then why? and Manny what does it matter to you, don’t bug him so much, the day you least expect it he’ll fall in love, she’d see, and now keep quiet here he is.

As the days passed, Cuéllar became more stand-offish with the girls, more tight-lipped and distant. Crazier too: he ruined Kitty’s birthday party throwing a string of firecrackers through the window, she burst into tears and Manny got mad, went to find him, they slugged each other, P.P. nailed him. It took us a week to get them to be friends again, sorry Manny, hell, I don’t know what got into me, buddy, don’t worry, I should be asking your pardon, P.P., for getting hot under the collar, c’mon c’mon, and Kitty forgave you too and wants to see you; he came drunk to mass on Christmas Eve and Lalo and Choto had to carry him dead weight out into the park, lemme go, raving, he didn’t give a damn, puking, I wish I had a pistol, what for, buddy? with pink elephants, to kill us? yeah and the same goes for that guy going by pow pow and for you and for me too pow pow; one Sunday he invaded the grounds of the Hippodrome and with his Ford vrroom charged the crowd vrroom who screamed and jumped the fences, terrified, vrroom. During Mardi Gras girls kept away from him: he’d bombard them with stink bombs, eggshells, rotten fruit, balloons filled with piss and he’d daub them with mud, ink, flour, soap (for washing pots) and shoe polish: brute, they’d call him, pig, beast, animal, and he’d show up at the parties at the Terraces Club, at the kids’ parties in Barranco Park, at the Lawn Tennis Dance, without a costume, a container of ether in each hand, eeny meeny miney mo, got her, I got her in the eyes, ha ha, hip hip hooray, I blinded her, ha ha, or armed with a cane to stick between the couples’ feet and make them fall down: thud. They fought, they punched him, sometimes we’d take his side but he doesn’t learn his lesson from anything, we said, they’re going to kill him on account of something like that.

His crazy pranks earned him a bad reputation and Chingolo, brother, you’ve got to change, Choto, P.P., you’re getting nasty, Manny, girls didn’t want to get together with him anymore, they thought he was a bad egg, a swellhead, a drag. He, sometimes so sad, it was the last time, he’d change, word of honor, and sometimes such a bully, a bad egg, huh? that’s what the loudmouths say about me? it didn’t bother him, he’d get over the dolls, they could go shove it, up to here.

At the graduation dance—a formal, two orchestras, at the country club—the only class member not there was Cuéllar. Don’t be stupid, we told him, you’ve got to come, we’ll find a girl for you, Kitty already spoke to Margot, Fina to Ilse, China to Elena, Chabuca to Flora, they all wanted to, they’re dying to be your date, take your pick and come to the dance. But he no, how dumb wearing a tux, he wouldn’t go, instead let’s meet later. Okay, P.P., whatever you want, don’t go, you’re bucking the crowd, he should wait for us at the Indian Messenger around two, we’d drop the girls off at their houses, pick him up and we’d go for a few drinks, roam around town and he getting a little sad sure.

4.

The following year, when Chingolo and Manny were in their first term of engineering, Lalo in pre-med and Choto began to work at the Wiese store and Chabuca was no longer in love with Lalo but with Chingolo and China no longer with Chingolo but with Lalo, Teresita Arrarte came to Miraflores: Cuéllar saw her and, for a little while at least, he changed. Overnight he stopped doing crazy things and walking around in shirtsleeves, dirty pants and messed-up hair. He started to wear a jacket and tie, to comb his hair in a D.A. like Elvis Presley and to shine his shoes: what’s going on with you, P.P., you hardly look like yourself, cool down kid. And he, nothing, in good spirits, nothing’s going on with me, you’ve got to keep up your appearance a little, right? blowing on, polishing his fingernails, he seemed like old times. What a surprise, boy, we told him, what a switch seeing you like this, isn’t it because? and he, like a gumdrop, maybe, Terry? suddenly then, did he like her? could be, like a Chiclet, could be.

He became sociable again, almost as much as when he was a kid. Sundays he’d show up at noon mass (sometimes we saw him take communion) and when church let out he’d go up to the neighborhood girls how’re you doing? What’s new, Terry, were we going to the park? why didn’t we sit on that bench where there was some shade. Afternoons, at dusk, he’d go down to the skating rink and he’d fall down and get up, fooling around and chattering, c’mon c’mon Teresita, he’d teach her, and if she fell? No you won’t, he’d hold her hand, c’mon c’mon, around just once more, and she okay, blushing and flirting, once more but very slow, blondish, cute-assed and with her mouse teeth, let’s go then. He also started hanging around the Regattas, Papa, he should become a member, all his friends went there and his old man okay, I’ll buy a membership card, was he going to be a rower, son? yes, and Bowling on the crosstown street. He even took walks Sunday afternoons in Salazar Park, he always looked cheerful, Terry, know how an elephant’s like Jesus, considerate, hold my glasses, Terry, the sun’s very strong, talkative, what’s new, Terry, everybody okay at home? and generous, a hot dog, Terry, a sandwich, a milk shake?

It’s happened, said Fina, his turn came, he fell in love. And Chabuca he was really hooked, he just looked at Terry and started drooling, and they at night around the pool table, while we waited for him will he ask her? Choto will he have the nerve? and Chingolo will Terry find out? But nobody asked him to his face and he didn’t let on he understood their hints, did you see Terry? yes, did they go to the movies? to the Ava Gardner film, to the matinee, and how was it? good, terrific, we should go, they shouldn’t miss it. He took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, grabbed the cue stick, ordered beer for five, they played and one night, after a royal carom, in a half voice, without looking at us, it’s all set, they were going to cure him. He tallied his score, they were going to operate on him, and they what’re you saying, P.P.? they’re really going to operate on you? and he like somebody who couldn’t care less pretty good, huh? It could be done, sure, not here but in New York, his old man was going to take him, and we that’s great, pal, that’s fantastic, that’s really some piece of news, when was he going to go? and he soon, in about a month, to New York, and they he should be laughing, sing, yell, get happy, pal, hooray. Only he wasn’t sure yet, he had to wait for the doctor’s reply, my old man already wrote to him, not a doctor but a scientist, a real brain like they have up there and he, Papa, did it come, no, and the next day, was there any mail, Mama, no sweetheart, calm down, it’ll come, no reason to get impatient and at last it came and his old man took him by the shoulder: no, it couldn’t be done, son, he had to be brave. Man, what a shame, they told him, and he maybe it can someplace else, in Germany for instance, in Paris, in London, his old man was going to check, to write thousands of letters, he’d spend more than he had, boy, and he’d travel, they’d operate on him and he’d be cured, and we sure, pal, right, and when he left, poor guy, they felt like bawling. hoto: what a rotten time Terry picked to move here, and Chingolo he’d resigned himself and now he’s desperate and Manny but maybe later on, science was making such progress, wasn’t it? they’d discover something and Lalo no, his uncle the doctor had told him no, there’s no way, there’s no cure and Cuéllar anything Papa? not yet, from Paris, Mama? and if suddenly in Rome? anything from Germany yet?