Again, I apologize for the delay. I've been really busy. I'm sorry if I've not responded to your emails. I don't really know when the last time I really checked them. Disclaimer things: Don't do shit you ain't s'posed to. If you do, don't get caught. Please enjoy this installment and keep those emails coming. Just send to getitright10@yahoo.com. Enjoy! Disfrutala! Tanoshinde kudasai!
-K
Stupid Jerk: Sam
Don'tcha love those sequences in movies where there's a time jump because the film wants to be at a later moment and needs to get there? So they show you a quick time progression and the movie continues. Well, my life's been like that. Nothing major happened.
Dad went to Barcelona around the same time the football season started. Tio Adimar stayed with me while he was gone. A torrent of that slut's boyfriends traveled through the house. I wasn't at home much. I mean, Tio Adimar is cool and much more "fatherly" than Dad, but seeing your uncle of 35 making out with some new random guy from the city is just not something you'd want to see all the time. Dad made sure to call at least once a day to see how I was. I appreciated it, but he was acting as if he owed me something, almost as if I couldn't deal with his being gone.
Tom and Darryl had become football personified. Each of them totally dedicated to practice, it was all they talked about. Plays. Their teammates. Rival schools' teams. What they wanted to suggest to Sam about strategies. George was as into as they were. The three of them would argue over something football, while Deirdre and I sat there bored, or tried our best to make a covert exit. Usually we did get away, but that meant I got dragged along with her while she did "girl" things. It was those things that were the topic of our argument at that moment.
"No quiero ir de compras, Deirdre. Shopping! Shopping! Shopping! That's not all you can want to do, is it?" I asked, annoyed.
"C'mon, Paco. Just one more store. I'd be doin' this to George who's a lot better at it than you, but she's always engrossed in shitball with Tom and Darryl. And now that cheerleading practice has started that's all she wants to talk about. Shitball and Perky-squad!" she threw her hands up. "I am so sick of both."
"Me too," I nodded, "But we're still going to the game this weekend, right?"
"I really actually don't want to," she confessed.
"Me neither," I laughed. She joined in, and we laughed for a few moments before I continued, "But we gotta show our support."
She sighed. "Yeah, we do. Psht! Weon't need to go to another store. I got enough." She handed me another bag to carry. I already had four.
We walked to the parking lot in search for her mom's car. Neither of us said much, but that was the usual thing for the two of us. We could be comfortably silent with each other all the time. She dropped me off at home, calling through the window of the car, "Remember you promised to help my Dad move the shit from the basement next Tuesday!"
I nodded and waved goodbye. She quickly honked the horn and drove away. I went into the house and saw Tio Adimar and his most recent novio, Faber. I mean really, who has the name Faber? They were cooking something in the kitchen together while taking every moment they could to kiss.
"Que tal Francesco?" Faber called out calling me by my Italian name. I had to hand it to Tio. He always scored himself some lookers. Faber was an Italian-American model type guy who Tio Adimar had shot in a photo shoot for the magazine he works for. Before that photo shoot, they had met in some club. Nothing unusual there for Tio. Faber had come here to on "business", that business being sucking my uncle's tonsils out of his throat at any moment.
I just grunted in Faber's direction and then went to my room to change into paint clothes. Autumn was just coming into its fullest, but that meant that it only got cold at night. It was still warm outside. I picked up a blank pre-wooded canvas and took it to the backyard. I went to the shed a got my supplies: pencils, paints, and drop cloths. I took off my shirt as it would serve as a rag and an easel. I only had a small easel and I couldn't mix too many colors in it, so I usually ended up using shirts, pieces of cardboard and whatever else I could. Dad had tried to get me to a large one, but I didn't think I needed it.
Hirsshorn High's principal, Mrs. Stanton, had announced that the school was in need of a new mural. She said that there would be a competition for ideas and whoever won would get to have theirs put up and receive a $500 prize. All of this was funded by The Graysine Art Gallery where Dad worked. I didn't really have a concrete idea about what the mural should be, but I decided that I'd just started drawing and painting in hopes that it would come.
So, I began. I just put the pencil to the canvas and let it flow. I didn't try to control it, nor did I think much. I trusted myself. Permiti el lapiz el control. The sound of the pencil scratching against the surface of the canvas was almost musical. It calmed me, and I let myself fall into it. I knew what I wanted with this painting. I wanted success. I wanted to be given this huge project of a school mural and see it, and be able to say, "Ay, esto es mio. That is all mine." I fell even deeper into it and didn't come out until sometime later when I heard, "Wow."
To be honest that one syllable word scared the shit outta me, making me jump and fall over - thankfully - unopened oil paint bottles and other supplies. After my fall, a chorus of laughter followed and strong hands helped me up from behind. "That is fucking awesome," said the person. I recognized the voice as Sam's.
I looked over my shoulder, "Thanks, pero no es finished."
He continued to stare at the sketch on the canvas, "How is it not finished? If that's not finished, then I'll just be blown the fuck away by it when it's done huh?" He laughed, and I noticed that his hands hadn't left my torso. I wiggled out of his hold and began picking up all the knocked over supplies.
"Que lastima!" he said shaking his head. He bent over and helped me straighten things back up.
"You do Spanish?" I asked.
"Yo no soy muy . . . um . . . skilled en espanol, pero puedo hablar la idioma," he answered in a questioning tone.
"Skilled is habil," I helped him. We finished picking up everything, but before I went back to perfect the sketch, I asked him, "You wanted somethin'?"
He shook his head, "Just to chill. I was bored."
I went back to sketching, "Weren'tchu and Darryl s'posed to be spendin' today together?"
"Yeah, but it seems his mom usurped him and his sister to work in her shop today," he sighed and then chuckled, "I just can't imagine him doing hair."
I laughed, too, "Yeah, but his mom usually just make him cut hair."
"Oh," he scooted up closer, "So what's this for? Enjoyment? Request? Money?"
I erased one last line, sat back and took in the whole picture. There were teenagers wearing the logos of other high schools against whom we played sports. They all held fearful expressions. They all crouched slightly with their arms protectively covering their heads or making shooing motions. Around them I had lightly drawn spiraling lines. Using those as guides I drew ravens in flight around them. Then in the upper right corner of the page, a football player in his Ravens jersey sat on a branch of a tree next to two ravens, looking down at the scene below.
I liked it. That meant it was time to paint. I picked out some random colors and began mixing them together to create new ones and adding an oil medium to them. Mediums help "stretch" the paint. Sam whistled, scaring me again. I completely forgot he was there. Again, I jumped, knocking shit over. He broke out in deep laughter. "I'm always surprising you, aren't I?"
"Como?" I asked him how.
"Well, recently you've been 'surprised' in some way by my presence. At my party, at lunch the day before my party, at the mall that day, and twice just now," he explained.
I laughed, beginning to paint, "That's true." I continued painting really quickly. I already knew what colors I wanted where and I also knew that this would be a layering process; so I had to take drying into consideration. Sam sat in silence as I painted for what must have been more than twenty minutes. Finally I broke it, taking a break.
I sat down facing him, "So what you wanna talk about?"
"Huh?" he asked, looking defensive.
"Habla conmigo. Talk to me. I know you wanna talk to me about something. I can tell. You're itching to tell me something. Out with it."
He gulped and looked away, "It's about Darryl."
"Okay. . . .?"
He brought his hands to his lap and stared at them, "Well, do you think we're right?"
"How do you mean?"
"Our relationship. Is it right?" When he asked this, his eyes bored into mine.
"That's a loaded question. Pero que lo hace mal?" I returned his gaze.
"What makes it bad? Is that what you're asking me?"
I nodded.
"Well, nothing I can see," he paused, taking a breath, "But lying to everyone feels wrong."
I smiled reassuringly, "Pero, you're not lying to everyone. You're not lying to each other, and when it comes to an issue like this, I'd think that your 'lies' would be of a protection. Sabes lo que I mean?" He nodded, and I suggested, "I think you should talk to Tio Adimar about this."
He violently shook his head, "No, I wouldn't wanna risk it. He could tell someone."
"Tio isn't like that. Plus, he's gay. I'm sure he's gone through this himself. He might could have some better advice, no?" I reasoned.
He mulled over it for a moment, "Well . . . maybe I'll look into that."
"You should. He'll gladly give it and won't tell anyone about your preference. Besides, quien has he to tell?"
"I guess you're right. Are you done with the painting already?" he asked, changing the subject.
"No. It has to dry and then I'll add the next layer."
"Oh, well, you wanna do something?"
"Estoy cansado. I was planning on taking a nap, but let's watch a movie or something?"
"Yeah."
We went into the house, and I introduced Sam to Faber as he'd already met Tio Adimar. Faber gave him quite the lecherous glare at which Sam turned red and quickly fled to the den and Tio rapped Faber lightly on the head. He grabbed Faber from behind, "Look. You embarrassed him."
Faber smiled and wiggled his hips, lightly grinding against Tio. "No I didn't. Just making him feel welcome." Tio then whispered something in Faber's ear, and they both began kissing and saying things in low-toned Italian. I stared at their little display. Ick.
I peeked into the den, looking over Sam's shoulder, where he sat on the couch, fully into some Spike TV program. "You want anything? Food? Somethin to drink?"
"Nah," he said politely.
"Seguro?" I asked him if he was sure.
"Soda then," he nodded, his eyes never leaving the screen. I got both of us Root Beers. By now Faber and Tio were in full blown make out mode. I shook my head and went into the den.
I sat down on the couch. Sam started to talk to me about something, but I was falling asleep. I don't really remember anything he said, or what I responded.
I woke up to warmth and solid. An arm was wrapped around me, and I was warm, but not uncomfortably so. I tried to move, but damn if the arm wasn't heavy and muscular. I pushed on his torso. Sam opened his eyes, saw where I was, and quickly took his arm from around me jumping up. "Paco?! Um . . . sorry about that?"
"What time is it?" I asked, yawning.
He still looked alarmed, "Iono. It's dark outside."
That woke me up, "Dark outside?! How long we sleep for?!?" I looked out of the window on the far wall, and it was dark out. Damn. I got up and headed towards the back. "Well, help me clean up my shit. I guess I'll finish the painting sometime later." I beckoned him with a throw of my arm. He still stood there, eyeing me and finally came.
We started capping all the paints and folding the drop cloth. He blurted, "Sorry a bout that, again."
"Sorry about what?" I asked, tossing the drop cloth in the shed, as he place an armful of paints on the shelf.
"Us on the couch. I mean, I didn't mean to-"
I stopped what I was doing and interrupted him, "We fell asleep. That's all. Nuthin' to shit over."
He smiled, "Okay." We finished putting everything away. "Well, I guess I'll be leaving then."
I nodded, "Okay. It was cool."
"Thanks. See ya round," he called over his shoulder closing the tall gate behind him.
I picked up the unfinished painting and put it in the den. Tio came bounding down the stairs. Phone in hand he asked, "We're getting takeout. Que quieres?" He asked me what I wanted.
"Pizza."
"Pizza it is." He dialed the local pizza place and asked for a delivery. After finishing that he looked me over and asked tentatively, "So?"
"So what...?" I asked back.
"You and Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"What's going on there, sobrino?" he asked. (Sobrino means nephew.)
I laughed, "Going on? Nothing! Nada de nada."
"You sure?" he smiled.
"Si. Sam is already taken," I answered.
"Oh? By whom?" he asked, slyly.
"That's not your business is it, Tio?" I answered jokingly.
He raised his hands in a guiltless gesture, "Hey, I was just asking. Well then, I'm going back to Faber."
"Before you go, Tio. Please try to keep it quiet this time," I rolled my eyes.
"No promises," he winked and ran upstairs.