Down to the Bone (11 page)

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

I lower my head. “Thanks. I was thinking . . . you’ve got so much land that, after the landscape’s installed, maybe I can come over and we’ll plant an organic veggie garden together. Then, we can watch foreign films. Just please don’t tell anybody here or Marco about it. It’s a long story.” I can’t believe these words just slipped out of my mouth so easily without considering Marlena first. I need to do what feels right for me. I don’t want to upset her, but she must understand that I need friends right now, especially because she has a boyfriend on the side and won’t let go of Rick.

“For sure!” He gives me a knuckle-to-knuckle punch.

I notice Angel parking and Jaylene climbing out of the truck and heading off to work.

“Hey, it was fun talking with you but I’ve got to go,” I tell Tazer. “Do you have a CD player?”

He raises his voice to the crew. “It’s retro boom box time! Get ready for beats!” He runs off and comes back with a huge, ancient ghetto blaster and blasts some tunes.

“
¡Música!
” the crew trumpets.

Jaylene makes up some
cha-cha-cha
steps on the spot and wiggles her butt. “Cuban power!” She twirls once, twice;
uno, dos, tres
, then goes back to digging.

“Jaylene’s definitely gay,” Tazer assures me.

“She says she’s bi and calls herself ‘queer.’”

“She’s too butch and political to be my type. I like feminine girls.”

I look around me. The rows of palms we’ve planted remind me of the Cuban countryside, of women on stilts with windblown hair. Soon the emptiness in Tazer’s land will be transformed into paradise. Maybe that will happen to me too. While I work, I’ll scoop out every bit of love I had for my old friends who shunned me, and plant a Tazer seed in my heart. Who knows? Maybe it’ll grow into a magnificent friendship tree. I don’t know. Just maybe.

9—Yours and Only Yours

For the past two months, it’s been a blast living at Soli’s. I’m sleeping on the living room pullout couch and it’s super comfy. Of course I miss my mom and brother, and think about them 24/7, but that’s another story.

Soli, Marlena and I go to the movies with Soli’s friends, and whoever she’s dating, on some weekend nights. Afterward, we hit the beach boardwalk. Surprisingly, Marlena has allowed us to walk with our arms around each other as Soli and her straight friends do. I’d like to stray with her to spots where no one can see us kissing, but Marlena always thinks there’s impending danger. “That’s reckless. What if they catch us?” she’ll say.

“Who’ll find us half a mile away hidden by shrubs?”

No matter how much I try to talk her into it, she won’t budge.

***

I go on Facebook every day even if it still kills me to know CC, Olivia and a few other friends I’ve known forever X’d me out. A lot of my elementary school friends are there, some from high school. They’re into very different things than I am and we barely get together.

I help Viva clean, wash clothes, organize and cook. I’ve taught her to play chess. She’s become addicted to the game. Every time we’re together and have spare time, she wants to play. Usually, I allow her to eat my queen, simply because it thrills her. She had thought it was a game for intellectuals and scholars and had been scared of it. She’s gotten so good I’m going to need to stop giving her chances!

Just for fun, and to behave like eccentrics we’ve seen in foreign films, I’ve had Viva pose for wacky portraits wearing outrageous hats, large sunglasses, miniskirts and knee-high boots we get at the thrift shop for pennies, while listening to loud opera for inspiration. She’s such a sport. That’s one of the reasons I love her so much. We sell the paintings at Little Havana’s Cultural Friday Art Festivals for big bucks. I try to give her half the money, and also pay rent and food, but she won’t accept it. She makes me save it in the bank so I can buy myself a car. My mother still won’t let me come back unless I spill the
frijoles,
but at least I get to talk to Pedri every day. He sneaks calls to me when she’s taking a bath.

Marlena hasn’t been keen on my befriending anyone gay or trans, especially Jaylene or Tazer. She’s jealous and thinks everyone’s into me. When she isn’t happy, it leaks into our relationship. I still want to keep things smooth. That’s why I keep making up excuses. I started telling Jaylene and Tazer I couldn’t chill with them and their friends because I was spending time with my “boyfriend.” Luckily, after we stopped working at Tazer’s house, I’ve never seen them again and we’ve quit texting. I don’t feel good about lying, but Marlena has nothing to worry about now.

Some days after work, I throw my bike in the back of Marco’s truck and we head on over to his house—he always invites me to eat. I rinse off with a hose before diving into his Olympic-sized pool with Marlena. We compete to see who swims the fastest. I usually win, but then end up allowing her to beat me by doing a slow version of the butterfly stroke. After dinner, and a few reality shows we watch with the whole family, we head to bed. When everyone’s sleeping, Marlena and I explore, traveling slowly through specific points of destinations. We have a beautiful time under the sheets.

There’s terrible news, though.

Last week, Marlena’s brother left early to go back to Puerto Rico because of an emergency with his girlfriend. As soon as he arrived, her parents called. They said she wouldn’t be finishing high school in Miami, as they’d promised her. They missed her too much. Her mom had already enrolled her in “Academia Escolar” a private, highly expensive high school. Now she has to return to Puerto Rico right away to start classes in a few weeks.

We just finished an exquisite brunch with Marlena’s family: ham steaks with pineapple chunks dripping in their natural juices, fluffy plantain omelet, Cuban bread drenched in dripping butter and glasses of guava nectar.

We sigh in unison when the taxi man honks.

Marlena’s
tío
Marco,
tía
Hilda,
abuelita,
and little cousins help Marlena and me carry her bags into the taxi. We kiss everyone goodbye and climb into the backseat.

From now on I know what to expect. I’ll be stuck in a dense fog between the Island of Missing Her and the coast of Hell. Marlena’s departure is hurtful in a way that only secret lovers can understand. Her family will miss her, but never as much as I will. I’ve tasted all of her, kissed her starting at sunset, all the way up to dawn, while her two moons lit up our nights. I’ll miss her warm body stretched out next to mine so much, but I can’t show it so she doesn’t get too sad.

A bearded Cuban guy with a hairy chest and bushy arms remarks, “
No hablo inglés.
” He doesn’t speak English, and that’s great with us. He puffs on his big fat cigar even if there’s a sign that says: NO SMOKING. Disgusting smoke ringlets float up to the ceiling.

We roll down our windows and I throw my head out for fresh air. I look past the expressway, toward the shoreline filled with neon apartments. Marlena’s uncle’s house is getting smaller and smaller in the distance, and my heart sinks.

I look at Marlena and my trying to hide my feelings goes out the window. “I can’t believe you’re leaving. It’s so damned depressing. What will I do without seeing you every day?”

“Don’t worry. After my eighteenth birthday I’ll come here for work. I promise.” She whispers, “Nothing will ever separate us.”

I shake my head. “That’s six hundred years from now. Can you imagine not kissing or making love for that long?”

“
Uy
, Scrunchy. It’s a year and seven months from now.” She averts her eyes from me and stares out the window. Marlena’s not the expressive sort who likes to reveal her feelings and opinions to anyone but me. But right now, her cool, distant and introspective demeanor feels as if she’s pushing me away. I mean, it’s the last time we’ll see each other in ages. I’ve got to get her to stay close.

I scoot down to where Hairy Taxi Guy can’t see me and whisper to her, “Okay, okay. I’ll wait for you till my teeth fall out and I turn into a wrinkled prune.”

A bunch of guys pass us in a Jeep blasting disco music. They’re holding hands and having a blast, like they just don’t care.

Hairy Taxi Guy throws them a bird.
“¡Maricónes de mierda!”
He tries to repeat it in English, “Focking fags full of sheet!”

I slouch down with my knees up on the back of the passenger seat. “What a prince.”

Marlena looks into the rearview mirror to make sure Hairy Taxi Guy isn’t looking at us or trying to understand our conversation.

Finally, she opens up.

“It’s so much easier when no one knows about you, Scrunchy. Our sexuality shouldn’t be in people’s faces anyways. I love it that our relationship is secret. It makes us more passionate about trying to find time to be with the other. When you don’t sleep over, we have to hide just to kiss.” She smiles. “Hiding makes everything extra special. What we’ve got is so beautiful. I wouldn’t change it for the world. I bet people in relationships like ours last forever.”

I look at her incredulously. “You wouldn’t want to ever hold my hand in public like everyone does?”

“Nope. I know if you could you’d change me just like
that.”
She snaps her fingers and her bracelets
clink-clank
all the way down to her elbow. “Can’t you see how it makes us so much more desperate to be together?”

“I think we’d be that way no matter what.”

Marlena is somewhat of a tortured soul. She wishes she could be free of feeling terrified about anyone finding out about us. “In my next life,” she once told me, “I want to come back with an all gay family. I’d like to live in an all homo world without a single straight person in it.”

Recently I let her know I had an urge to become politically active against bullying. She freaked and said, “All we need is for you to draw attention to us by becoming one of those crazy raving separatist lesbians.”

She lifts her hair up from her neck, lets it loose, and down comes a cascade of curls. I take a good look at her and my world spins. Unless I visit her, I won’t see her beautiful face for almost two years.

I grab my sketchbook from my shoulder bag. “I’m going to sketch you one last time. I won’t be able to do it again till
la luna
drops from the sky.”

She throws me a smile that is so warm and tender. I wish I could stick it in my pocket so I could keep it forever. “Great.” Her eyeballs roll over to Hairy Taxi Guy, then to me. “But just act normal.” I knock off my sandals, remove my seat belt, lean my back against the door, and put my feet on her plump thighs. Now I have a reason to stare at her without Hairy Taxi Guy thinking I’m a weirdo homo.

I outline her profile with my charcoal pencil: her sunken eyes, a nose that broke when she fell off trying to ride a bike, the delicate shape of her lips, her round chin, elegant neck and a big puff of hair. I fill in details: her cheekbones pop out, her hair becomes wild tumbling locks, her thick eyebrows and long spidery lashes come alive in smudges of wavy browns. I even catch the way she’s looking away, so Hairy Taxi Guy doesn’t get any ideas.

A deadly silence falls over me as wind funnels in through the windows.

As I take my colored pencils and color everything in, words flash in front of me. They crash deep into me like wild waves, inspiring me to add the final touches:

Luminous. Anxious. Dire. Tender. Lush. Breasts. Plump. Caresses. Humid. Radiant. Melancholy. Languorous. Tears. Shoulders. DON’T GO! Desolate. Drenched. Collapsing. Arms. Emerging. Soaring. Moist. Mouth. Breath. Sea. Dripping. Coiling. Nibbling. Wet. Bewildered. Liquid. Breathless. Sliding. Moist. Panic. Sobs. Thistles. STAY HERE WITH ME! Trembling. Desperation. Soaking. Laughter. Hungry. Soft. Succulent.

I’ve drawn pure beauty.

I pat her thigh with my foot. She looks my way and I show her the sketch. She throws me a sweet grin and goes back to being her pensive self.

I guess Skype, texting and e-mailing will have to do for a long while. I’m buying a video phone with a large screen today. Looking at each other’s faces will give us the strength to overcome anything, especially Rick’s distractions.

Traffic is thrashing by. Cars are zooming from lane to lane, swerving fast in front of us.

I cross my arms over my chest and eye Marlena suspiciously. “I’m sure you’re wrong about what you said yesterday and I
can
come visit you.”

Last night, while lying in each other’s arms (Marlena’s aunt thinks I sleep on the pullout sofa in Marlena’s room) Marlena said, “There’s no way you can come visit me. My parents will figure it out.” Those words startled me.

No one had ever been allowed to sleep over at Marlena’s house when she lived with her parents, except me. Her family and I got along well. Our moms were always talking and exchanging magazines and recipes.

Her sweet dad was threatened whenever a boy who wasn’t Rick called her. He’d put on a fake, rugged voice to announce a lie while she spoke to the guy: “Rick is on his way here, Marlena. You don’t want your boyfriend waiting outside for you too long, do you?”

I, of course, was thrilled—her father staved off boys interested in dating my girlfriend!

She leans against the car door and sticks her elbow out through the window. I think she’s hiding something from me. Lately, since her brother Arturo left, it’s as if she’s keeping a major secret inside her, but she won’t talk about what’s bothering her, no matter how much I ask.

Minutes pass and she doesn’t say a word. It’s so quiet you could hear a mosquito pee.

“It’ll be weird if you visit me in Puerto Rico. I have fifty-two cousins. They won’t leave us alone a second. We won’t have a minute of privacy.” She sighs. “I don’t want to talk about it now; it’s too stressful.”

It’s insane she’s opting to not see me for those lame reasons. I try to let it slide. I know she’s in as much turmoil as me and I don’t want to make things worse.

A song comes on about Juana Palangana—Bedpan Juana—who looks like a banana. I can’t bear seeing my Marlena so sad. I try to make her laugh and rotate my hips in my seat, snap my fingers, and make beatbox drum sounds with my mouth,
Gún-dún-dún-gún!