Chulito (2 page)

Chulito sat up. His ears got hot and his nostrils flared. He wanted to tell Carlos that he should be apologizing, too, for bringing that dude to Hunts Point, holding hands in the fucking street and kissing the nigga. “To say sorry and shit. Ain’t that a good enough reason?”

“No, Chulito, it’s not. I appreciate you calling me about my mom, but you’re acting like you didn’t throw a fucking bottle at me. So, if you just want to say sorry for being a stupid asshole, then say your pitiful ‘sorry’ and go back to the corner with the fellas.”

Chulito jumped up from his bed. “Carlos, why you always gotta be steppin’ off and shit?”

“What are you sorry for? Are you sorry for what went down? And how you went along with all those assholes? That shit hurt. David wanted to have your ass arrested for assault.”

Chulito paced in his room. “Fuck that dude! I threw the bottle at him not at you.”

“Same difference. You threw a bottle at the fags, right? I don’t care about those fellas, but you? I thought you were different. You were my friend. Why did you turn on me?”

“Me? You fucking turned. I did what I had to do!” Chulito slammed his phone shut. The room clouded with his tears. He let his anger take over, because it was easier than confessing that he wanted to be the one holding Carlos’ hand. Not in public or anything, but he wanted to be in that dude’s place. But he couldn’t admit that.

Their brief conversation swirled in Chulito’s mind for days before he called Carlos and left a message.

“Yo! I’m sorry I hung up. I just…” Chulito paused. He was still conflicted between wanting to be near Carlos and needing to stay away. “I just feel mad mixed up, bro. We were bloods, but you changed. And I don’t understand what happened with you. I’m sorry about the bottle. I never meant to hurt you. So, if you want, let’s talk. Just you and me like it used to be. Peace.”

Moments later Big Pun chimed on Chulito’s phone and Carlos’ name in blue letters streamed across the screen.

“Hey, Chulito, I got your message,” Carlos said matter-of-factly.

Chulito was expecting Carlos to sound happy, not distant. “I felt real bad about hanging up on you, but you get me so heated sometimes.”

“What gets you so heated?” Carlos asked flatly.

Chulito thought about Carlos’ question. He was straight up jealous. He had never felt like that before. Instead he intertwined his feelings with those of the neighborhood. “I keep thinking about that night when you walked out holding that dude’s hand. You never told me about any shit like that. And I keep seeing you kissing him and I get pissed. How you gonna go and do something like that all out in public and shit?”

“Chulito, I want to be who I am.”

“C’mon, Carlos, you know how you supposed to act around here and you go off and do some shit like that—kissing a dude?”

“It was on the cheek. What’s the big deal? I see you guys hugging each other, and when I came home for Christmas, I saw that Kamikaze guy kiss you.”

“What?” Chulito heard a hint of playfulness in Carlos’ voice but held back from playing back. “Carlos, you know that’s different. It’s bro shit. Kamikaze kisses me on my forehead. He’s just playin’. What you did was straight up and down gay. Niggas are crazy. They don’t go for that shit. And I knew when the fellas started to make fun of you it was gonna get serious. I should have just said cut the shit. I mean you from our ’hood.”

“They see me as just a pato.” The playfulness was gone from Carlos voice and he sounded like he was simply stating a fact.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. Do you see me like that, Chulito?”

Chulito sighed. Carlos being gay was an understanding they both shared but they’d never talked about up front. As long as it was in the realm of rumor, Chulito could still hang with Carlos. But Carlos fucked everything up by bringing that dude. Now that it had been confirmed it would be impossible to keep his friendship with Carlos public.

“I don’t want to see that part. I just wanna remember the fun we used to have.”

“But that’s part of me, too, Chulito. On the one hand I’m different and on the other I am still the same. You want to relate to the me who’s still the same and the fellas want to relate to the me who’s different. I’m relating to all of me.”

“Is that what you’re learning in college?”

“Somewhat.”

Chulito sat at the kitchen table as he sketched Carlos’ name graffiti style on a napkin. “I get what you saying.”

“How?”

“Well, that you are the old Carlos and a new Carlos at the same time.” The name on the napkin had thick letters and the bottom of the “s” wrapped around the word. Chulito chuckled. “You the real gangsta.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“It’s like you don’t give a fuck. You gonna do ya thang at any risk.”

Carlos laughed. “You think I’m gangsta? I love it.”

Chulito liked hearing Carlos’ deep, bubbly laugh. It reminded him of the first time he heard it full out and hearty when they went to see
Ace Ventura: Pet Detective
when they were kids. Their mothers had dropped them at the theater in Parkchester, given them money for popcorn and a soda, then went window shopping until the movie was over. At every stunt and joke, Carlos’ laughter gushed out of him. He rocked in his seat and his stringy hair danced around his head. Chulito laughed, too, but it was more guarded. Then, he started to imitate Carlos and laugh loudly along with him. It felt good. The laugh was not just in his head, but in his chest and body. There were moments where they just looked at each other and laughed. Carlos’ mouth was wide open and Chulito tossed a piece of popcorn. It landed on Carlos’ tongue. They played the popcorn game a bit, then bumped heads when they leaned over at the same time to sip from the soda they shared which made them laugh even louder.

Chulito smiled at the memory. “I changed, too, ya know.” He ran his hands over the ripple of muscles on his chest and abdomen. “My moms treats me like I’m a kid, but I ain’t a kid anymore. Ya know, I’m turning sixteen soon.”

Their conversations continued every day and Chulito’s heart skipped three beats every time he answered the phone and heard Carlos’ “Hey.” He knew where this was going and couldn’t wait to see Carlos when the semester was over.

Chulito walked into the kitchen with a bath towel wrapped around his waist. “Yo, mamis, I hope you left some cake for me.” His mom and Maria were finishing their coffee and some leftover birthday cake from the night before. Carmen had cooked a special dinner of pernil with arroz con gandules and gotten him his favorite cake from Valencia Bakery. Chulito loved that sweet frosting, all cold with a thin, crispy coating from being in the fridge overnight.

“I’m gonna have me some of that.” Chulito pulled the cake out of the refrigerator.

Carmen smacked his bottom. “Put some clothes on.”

Chulito smiled and flexed. “Chill, Moms, Maria’s family right?”

“They grow so fast.” Maria sighed and sipped her coffee.

Chulito offered cake to the women. They shook their heads. “We better save a piece for Carlos ‘cause ya know he digs this shit, too.”

“I’m glad you two are friends again,” Maria said.

“Well, it’s gonna be birthday celebration Part Two tonight. I don’t know what we gonna do ‘cause Carlos says it’s a surprise.”

Chulito took the cake and a cup of fragrant coffee into his room and looked in his closet. He had shirts and jerseys by Mecca, Tommy Hilfiger, PNB, FuBu, Rocawear, and all the hottest designers organized by color. He got dressed, strapped on his Fossil watch and clipped on the gold neck chain with his name on it, then slipped on his religious beads, red and white for Chango, the Orisha god that his grandmother said was his protector. He tied a red bandanna around his head and topped it off with a fitted Yankee cap. He pulled the cap down low on his brow. Too hard. He flipped it with the rim to the back. Too casual. He brought it back to the front, cocked it slightly to the right and brought it down toward his right eyebrow. Bingo. His look had to be perfect, because for as much as Carlos liked wearing Polo shirts, khaki pants and boat mocs, he had a feeling Carlos would like seeing him tough and thugged out.

When he stepped out onto Garrison Avenue everything was the same. The auto glass guys with their tight glistening bodies were chasing cars with cracked windshields, a group of old men sat in front of his building playing dominoes on a card table, and further down Garrison he could see the spray of a fire hydrant and hear the squeals of the kids darting in and out of its refreshing, cold stream.

He slipped on his favorite Yves Saint Laurent shades with the bright gold tint that were more style than function against the high summer sun. He nodded to Martha, Brenda and Debbie who sat on a car on one end of the block, and bopped over to Papo, Looney Tunes, Chin-Chin and Davey who were hanging out in front of Rivera’s bodega on the other end of the block.

“Yo, Chuli-to! Happy birthday, nigga.” Davey clap-shaked hands and bumped shoulders with Chulito. “You sixteen now, te estás poniendo viejo.” Two years older than Chulito, Davey had a baby-face with large eyes with long lashes and full, rich dark lips that he licked constantly. He lived in the Virgin Mary building around the corner from Chulito on Manida Street. The building had earned its name because its residents maintained a lit water fountain with the Virgin Mary in the front. The statue itself was encased in Plexiglass and surrounded by multi-colored plastic flowers—yellow roses, white mums, pink carnations, orange bird of paradises, lavender lilies, and orange royal orchids—that were kept spotless, dust free and replaced at the first hint of their color fading. Outside the case, the Virgin was surrounded by tropical plants and flowers illegally transported from El Yunque rainforest, including the golden yellow and white lily ginger and the fiery orange and red lobster claw heliconias in large pots that were moved indoors during the winter. From the security bars of all the first floor windows there hung massive ferns in pots turning the front of the building into a lush fragrant mini rain forest for their beloved Virgin Mary.

Chulito slid his arm around Davey’s neck and pulled him close. “You heard right, sucka. My moms had a little cake for me last night and shit, but tonight who knows what could happen?”

High fives were served all around. Chin-Chin, the shortest and the oldest of the group at four feet and ten inches and twenty-four years old, said, “Well, if you want to play with tetas, you lucky you got friends to hook you up.”

“What? Nigga, I ain’t wasting my time with those tired, saggy tetas over at El Coche or The Wedge. Tonight I have special plans.” Chulito pretended to wipe dust off his bare arms.

Papo, considered one of the more serious guys around, chimed in, “Oh, we know about the special plans.” He made a sexy slurping sound with his mouth. Papo was the tall perfectly put together kind of guy whose body was slim and solid from playing football in front of the house he lived in on Manida Street. On some level he turned everybody on. His skin was a little on the blanquito side with a sprinkle of freckles on his long nose. His brown eyes lit up and looked freaky when the sun hit them and had a way of looking at you dead on, that made you want to ask, “What?”

The guys, except for Looney Tunes, erupted in laughter.

“What’s so funny, yo?” Looney Tunes smoothed back his unkempt hair.

“Let’s just say there is no way we gonna serve up saggy tetas to our boy here.” Davey licked his lips, leaving a smooth shine on them. “We goin’ out! Way out!”

“Hol’ up, fellas. I told you I got some special plans tonight, but tomorrow I’m down for whatever you guys want.”

Papo crossed his arms, making his chest swell through his tank top, and scanned the neighborhood while the rest of the guys high-fived each other. “Special plans? Bro, forget that ‘cause what we got planned is gonna rock your fuckin’ world.”

“I’m down.” Looney Tunes did a little dance.

“With what money?” Davey asked. “Yo, you never have money. Not even to hang out on this corner.”

They all laughed again.

Papo waved Looney Tunes away. “You a lazy mo’fo’ because I tried to get you a job working maintenance with me over at Hostos, but you too lazy to get ya ass up for work.”

Looney Tunes shrugged. “I don’t want to be at work at five o’clock in the damn morning, and I definitely don’t wanna be cleaning up after dumb college kids.”

Papo shook his head. “Always got an excuse. We do what we gotta do. Right, fellas?” He held up his hand and Chin-Chin slapped it.

Davey nodded in agreement. “Fuck, next month after I graduate from Stevenson High, I’ma go full-time at Dunkin’, but just for the summer ‘cause you hookin’ me up at Hostos, right Papo?”

Papo held up a fist and Davey bumped it. “Done deal.”

Looney Tunes slipped beside Chulito. “Why don’t you put in a word with Kamikaze and I could work with you two?”

They all laughed.

Martha, Brenda and Debbie approached the corner, waved and stood right by them as they waited for the light to change so they could cross the street.

Chulito interrupted the fellas’s laughter. “Forget that. Yo, listen up, fellas. I am down and Ready Freddy to hook up with you guys tomorrow but not tonight.”

“What you doing?” Papo looked him in the eye the same way as when he had handed Chulito the bottle.