Chulito (14 page)

Carmen explained that she had a lot to do in preparation for going out to the Copacabana for her celebration with Maria that evening. So Chulito scrambled eggs and made toast for her at home and they agreed to go out for breakfast the next day, before they went to Brooklyn. After breakfast, Chulito gave her $500 that he said he’d been saving up. She reluctantly accepted it and spent the day shopping on Southern Boulevard and at the salon.

Chulito called Kamikaze after he washed the dishes.

“Yo, Kaz, I am so sorry about last night. I fell out. Was everything cool?”

Kamikaze was pissed, but said that he mainly missed Chulito’s company as he made the rounds at some local clubs and discos. “Don’t fuckin’ disappear like that. For a minute I thought some shit had happened to you. But I got you tonight, Chuly-chu, right? It’s Saturday night.”

“Most def,” Chulito said hesitantly.

“I’ll pick you up at eight. Are you O.K.? You sound different.”

“I’m cool. I’m just feeling wrecked. I’m gonna lay down again.”

“Maybe you caught a bug, little bro?”

“Nah, I’ll see you tonight. Peace.”

Chulito took a shower, a long one, and let the steam ease his mind. Then he laid back down on his bed and fell asleep.

Chulito’s nostrils filled with the rich smell of garlic and cilantro. His head was heavy and he felt even sleepier than when he awoke in the morning. He opened the door and heard his mother singing along to an old Hector Lavoe song. The way in which he had Big Pun, Tupac and Fat Joe in constant rotation on his CD player, his mother had Hector, La Lupe and Luis Miguel on the CD player in the kitchen.

“You went back to sleep? Ay, papi, I think you’re coming down with something?” Carmen was wearing a house coat, but her hair was blown and styled and her nails manicured.

Chulito sat up in bed. “I’m just tired, but look at you.”

“You like my hair?” Carmen swung it from side to side. “Catalina did my nails and she told me that you two broke up.”

“We was never really together. We went out a couple of times and I bought her some jewelry, but that was it. And she’s going to the D.R. for the summer and I’m gonna be in P.R., so what’s the point?”

Carmen shook her head. “Well, papa, you say it doesn’t matter, but you haven’t left the house since yesterday afternoon and all you do is sleep.” Carmen lifted the lid on a pot of simmering red beans and stirred it. “It’s O.K. if you feel a little broken-hearted.”

“I’m not broken-hearted.”

“Catalina’s a sweet girl and she’s pretty. I understand if breaking up has you down.” Carmen scooped up a small amount of the beans, blew them and tasted them.

“Ma, I don’t give a shit about Catalina. I’m tired. That’s it.”

She slammed the spoon on the counter and faced Chulito. “Don’t get disrespectful, Chulito.”

“I’m sorry, Ma, but can’t I just be tired?”

“Then you should have a blood test done at the clinic where you work. You could be anemic.”

“I’m fine, Ma. I just needed some rest. I feel better already.” He flexed his small bicep and winked.

Carmen smiled. “Well, the food should be ready in about a half hour. Remember that I’m leaving at six o’clock to go out with Maria and the girls.”

Chulito got dressed and peeked out his window. He saw Papo and Davey on the corner. He thought of going out, but instead sat in his room and looked for some music to play. He flipped through his CDs: Trick Daddy, Ja Rule, Noreaga, Wu Tang Clan, P. Diddy, Notorious B.I.G., Jadakiss, DMX, Ludacris, Nelly, Snopp Dogg, Junior M.A.F.I.A. and a continual procession of every hot rapper that money can buy. He turned on the radio and switched from station to station and heard Alicia Keys wail, “I keep on falling in love…with you.”

Chulito sat still and listened to the pop song, his soul swallowing each word. The melodies blew over him like a warm breeze. As he shut his eyes, he remembered how sometimes he’d walk into the kitchen and his mother would be standing with her eyes shut, singing along with Hector Lavoe. “Tus ojos más lindos, más lindos que el mar.”

As Chulito surrendered to the simple lyrics and the sweeping keys of the piano, he felt excited and scared at the same time. When the song ended, he wanted to hear it again. The light station continued to play love song after love song and Chulito rested on his bed, looking up at the ceiling.

Over an hour had passed when Chulito heard Carlos’ footsteps above him. Chulito turned down the station really low to hear Carlos’ movements. Carlos danced to some old school Madonna. Chulito couldn’t tell if it was “Borderline” or “Holiday,” but whatever it was it reminded Chulito of his mom. When he was about four or five years old, she’d play that old school Madonna and wild out with her friends when his father wasn’t around. She’d pick up Chulito and dance with him. Carmen had the songs on cassettes and once during an argument, Chulito’s father stomped them into pieces. Carmen went out and bought all the music again and listened to the songs on her walkman, but the dancing stopped.

When six o’clock came, Carmen transformed into a sexy mamita with a spaghetti-strap burgundy dress that stopped with a flair at her knee. She wore black high heel suede shoes and a black, sheer shawl around her shoulders. She came into Chulito’s room to show off her dress. Upstairs Carlos was playing “Like a Virgin” and she did a little shimmy and kicked up her leg.

“Wow, Ma, maybe I should go to protect you.”

“I look good, right?” She proudly patted her upswept hair. Two glittering diamond earrings hung from each ear with a simple matching teardrop diamond hanging from a gold necklace.

“We’re gonna take a cab down to a restaurant near Times Square and then over to the Copacabana.” Madonna continued to squeal and his mother invited him to get up and dance with her.

“Ma, I don’t know if you noticed, but I don’t dance.”

“Oh, you used to love dancing around with me. C’mon, get up. It’s my birthday.”

Chulito got up and flailed his arms around without moving his feet and made a crazy look with his face.

“O.K., sit down, you could hurt yourself,” She said with a laugh. He loved hearing her laugh.

“So you gonna go get me a daddy with that dress.”

The smile left her face. “Don’t be silly, it’s just me and the girls.”

“And a club full of sharks.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said playfully, regaining her spark.

“But I’m your back up.” He said that in earnest even though it had come out sounding playful.

She came over, kissed him then wiped her lipstick off his cheek.

The music stopped upstairs, and they both looked up.

There was a knock at the front door. Maria called out, “The cab is coming, they said two minutes.”

She gave Chulito a hug. “Tomorrow it’s you and me, right?”

He nodded and smiled. “Have fun, Ma.”

He looked out his window and saw his mother and Maria get into the cab. Carlos was with them, standing outside the cab and giving his mother a kiss. Chulito could tell from the black tank top with tight black jeans and black boots that Carlos was ready for a night out. As the cab sped away down Garrison Avenue, Carlos looked back at Chulito’s window. Chulito ducked out of view. When he looked back out Carlos had crossed the street on his way to the subway station.

For the rest of the night Chulito stayed home. He ate the pork chops, rice and beans his mother had cooked. He washed the dishes, turned off his phone and lit a healthy blunt and smoked it, freely blowing smoke throughout all the rooms of his apartment like he’d seen his grandmother do with a cigar to bless her house. He went to his mother’s room and sat on her bed. He saw the shoes she’d tried on for the night out and rejected. Her make-up containers were all over the dresser. Pictures of him and his father were wedged to the sides of her mirror. He remembered when he sat on that very edge of the bed and his feet couldn’t touch the floor. He’d watch his mother put on make-up and she’d make funny faces at him. He felt like they were the only two people in the world. He felt safe.

The sun was still out so he didn’t need to turn on a light, but as night fell he sat in darkness. Since it was easy to see into his apartment from the street and he didn’t want anybody to know he was home, including Kamikaze. He knew he was taking a big risk but he turned off his phone. He watched television in the living room because the windows faced the inner courtyard and nobody walking on Garrison could see its bluish light, or see him sleeping in front of VH-1’s “I Love the 80s” as old school Madonna danced into his dreams.

The next morning, his mother was brewing that richly fragrant Bustelo coffee. It said espresso on the can, but to Chulito, his mom, and most Puerto Ricans it was simply café. When he sat up on the couch he saw his Tims were neatly set on the floor and the television was off. He felt fully awake and alert. Then he panicked because he had missed two days with Kamikaze and knew that he’d be pissed.

He had to respond to the missed calls and messages from Kamikaze. He flipped it open without checking them and called Kamikaze. He was relieved when the machine picked up: “Yo, yo, yo. This is the Big K. You know the drill…spill it. Peace!”

“Hey, Kamikaze. Sorry about last night. You were right, I caught a bug or a stomach thing and I was laid out.” He paused, feeling obligated to call Kamikaze, but he wasn’t ready to see him. Besides Kamikaze reserved Sundays for recuperating from Saturday night. “I’m cool now and since it’s my mom’s birthday we headed out to Brooklyn to visit family and we staying over. I will catch up with you tomorrow, promise, promise, promise. I’m really sorry about last night, bro. I hope everything was cool. I’ll hit you up when I get back to the Bronx.”

His phone beeped as he was ending his message.

“What the fuck happened?” Kamikaze demanded without saying hello.

“Kaz, I was just going to, uh, ring you up last night, man. I was in bed all day. You were right, I think, I think I caught a bug or something.” Chulito waited for Kamikaze’s response.

“Be straight with me little, bro. If you sick, you sick, but if some other shit is up, spill it the fuck out right now.” Kamikaze sounded impatient and angry.

“Nah, ain’t nothing but a bug, stomach thing. On the real.” Chulito wanted to get off the phone. He wanted to retreat back from his neighborhood and his life.

“Fuck. The only reason I’m gonna buy what you sayin’ is because you been on the level with me, but you better stay healthy or I’ll fucking make you sick.” Kamikaze laughed. “I’m joking.”

Chulito was relieved to hear Kamikaze laugh. “Thanks, Kaz.”

After sharing a cup of café with his mom, he stripped out of his clothes, did some push-ups and sit-ups and took a shower. He put on a white short sleeved button down shirt by Polo that had thin aqua blue horizontal stripes, a pair of khaki colored cargo pants that were nice and loose with a brown belt and chocolate brown Timberland boots. He wrapped his head with a white du-rag and slipped on light blue Kenneth Cole shades. Even though Parkchester was just five stops and less than ten minutes from Hunts Point, he didn’t want to talk to anyone so he called a cab.

He saw the fellas hanging out on the corner, but he went right into the taxi with his mom without acknowledging them.

The rest of the day went smoothly. Brunch at Step-In’s. The long train ride to Brooklyn.

Then on the cab ride back from Brooklyn, as his mother slept, Chulito thought about the last few days. He realized that he needed that time away from everybody, time away from the noise and opinions on the corner, time away from Kamikaze and the business, time away to figure out what he wanted to do next. There wasn’t a lot of figuring, it was more trying to find the courage to go for what he wanted. And he wanted Carlos. He wished that he was going to Puerto Rico with just Carlos. Then they could hang out and go to the beach and not have to worry about the fellas, Kamikaze or anybody.

When the cab arrived in Hunts Point, it was two o’clock in the morning. The streets were deserted and all the lights were out in Chulito’s building, except for Puti who slept with the light on.

Chulito could barely sleep, anticipating what he was going to tell Carlos. He fell asleep going over the script in his mind. At five in the morning, he was wide awake. He heard his mother in the bathroom preparing for work. School would be out in a couple of weeks and she wouldn’t have to get up so early.

As he lay on his back with his hands behind his head, he looked up at the ceiling as if he could see right through it and watch Carlos sleeping in his bed. Chulito wanted to wake him. “Hey, Carlos, I’m ready.”

And he was ready. That morning Chulito was sitting on the steps inside his building’s vestibule, so that Carlos couldn’t leave without seeing him. He rubbed his sweaty palms together, blew on them and waved them to dry and shake off the nervous feelings that where urging him to go back into his apartment. He cracked the muscles on his neck, rolled his shoulders and in his mind practiced what he would say. He’d keep it simple. Be up-front.

He leaped up when he heard the door to Carlos’ apartment open. The jingling of keys sent Chulito tip-toeing toward his own apartment. Then he stopped and returned to the foot of the stairs. He wasn’t going to retreat. No more running away. For the first time ever, he felt as if his knees were going to give way. They trembled and buckled. He balanced himself by holding on to the wooden handrail coated with decades of black paint, then held looked up the worn marble stairs as Carlos’ footsteps echoed in the hall. Carlos was startled at first but recognized Chulito and stood still, placing his hand on the handrail at the top of the stairs. The window on the landing bathed Carlos in a soft light. He looked puzzled. His brows were gathered tightly then they relaxed. Carlos’ smile triggered a calmness in Chulito. He still felt nervous but he no longer felt like he would be sick. Then Carlos began descending and Chulito began ascending the stairs. When they met up Chulito faced him. He had to say what he’d practiced, regardless if a door opened or if someone walked into the building. He was not going to back out of this moment. He looked around the hallway and whispered, “I dig you, too, Carlos. And not like when we were kids.”