PEG BOY (4 page)

“I know that
it showed, and he felt it. You thought she loved you less. It was not so. She
grew close to Emilio because of her sorrow for him, and the shock of his death
left nothing in her heart. Santiago, you will never know how much you meant to
her. She felt your independence and self-assurance. She thought you were secure
and did not need her as much as did Emilio. When you were born everyone made so
much of your beauty that Emilio was forgotten. She saw that. She tried to give
him everything that he could not get from me.”

They faced
each other. Santiago had never been as close to his father as he was at that
moment, closer even than he had been as a child when they had come to this
place. Santiago continued to hold his father, not wanting to give up the moment
and there was a powerful emotion in his heart, one mixed with hate so that he
found himself about to burst in conflict. He did know why it was or to whom it
was directed. Frustration broke as a deep sob, and he cried.

The moon was
full and the path well lit when they came down from the hill. Everywhere the
stillness seemed more pronounced than usual, as if the earth was in repose
after the turmoil.

From the
stable, Fidel saw two figures moving down the hillside. He followed their
progress as the two white dots descended against the dark background. When
closer, he saw Don Emilio with his arm around his son’s shoulder as they spoke
softly. Fidel was relieved and so filled with love that he could barely keep
from taking Santiago into his arms. Santiago faced Fidel and something passed
between them that ignited a passion.

“It is
late...,” Don Emilio said. “There will be much to do in the morning.” He looked
around for Señora Celeste. “Has she gone?”

Fidel nodded.
“Yes. She asked that I tell you she will return in the morning.”

Don Emilio
held Santiago at arm’s length. Although obviously pleased with the result of
their discussion, there was sadness in his eyes.

“Santiago,
there is something you may not want to do. I will understand if you decline.”

“You are
mistaken, father.” Santiago shook his head. “I think I know what you are about
to say. I
do
want to see her. Where is she?”

“Lying near
the grotto. It is where she will be buried tomorrow, beside Emilio.”

Santiago
walked to the garden and approached the small statue of the Virgin. It stood on
a low pedestal surrounded by flowers. A hole had been dug to one side. Next to
it, another gravestone stood. The body of his mother was beneath a blanket and
he drew it back to reveal her face. He caught his breath and his heart pounded
as he looked at her face and saw a peace that he had not seen in a long time.
Florienda’s hair had been combed and it was almost as though she were asleep.
The slight smile at the corners of her mouth startled him. She had not smiled
that way since before Emilio had been killed.

He bent near
and touched her lips with his own. They were cold and in spite of this it was
difficult for him to believe she was dead. He had seen her as often as she was
now, but asleep. If he touched her gently as he had so many times before, she
would awaken. He had only to call her name for her to open her eyes.”

“
Mamacita
...,
mamacita
..., are you happy now? You smile and it seems as though you are
happy. I am sorry I was not here when you needed me. I am sorry, mama. I wish I
could have told you how much I loved you..., do you know how much? Would you do
this again if I told you how much I needed you? Papa told me how unhappy you
were. I know you hated this place. I know
now
! Thank you mama for loving
me the way you did. I never knew when I was a little boy that you were unhappy.
Papa told me why you seemed to love Emilio more than me..., and I am sorry that
I said some of the things to you that hurt you. I understand now why you did
what you did...”

He held one of
her hands that had been folded on her breasts. Santiago spoke quietly, unaware
of the tears that clouded his vision. He felt his throat tighten and the
feeling grew until he cloud not stop the sobbing and he realized all he had
felt since he had first heard of her death. His body shook in waves of sorrow
and he became aware of his father kneeling beside him and he felt the arms
encircle him.

“It is right
for you to cry, my son. Let what you feel, come out. Look at her face,
Santiago. For the first time in many years, she is at peace. Be happy for her.
You know she will never be far away from us and will always be in our
thoughts.”

When they came
from the graveside they saw that Fidel had already gone to bed. Don Emilio had
asked the boy to stay the night. He thought Santiago needed his friend to stay
and he agreed that his son would get comfort. Before going to bed, Don Emilio
kissed his son and wished him a good night’s sleep.

The boys used
the room that had been the kitchen, for Santiago’s bedroom had no roof. The
kitchen was separated by a small alcove used to store food. A small fire had
been lit and there was enough warmth in the room to make it comfortable. Mats
had been laid on the floor. Santiago saw Fidel, arms outstretched, lying on his
side, already asleep. He stood for a few moments, silent and watchful, looking
at his lover. He let his clothing fall to the floor and slipped beneath the
covers. Fidel responded and drew him close, encircling him with his arms. The
touch of Fidel’s body was all that was needed to bring the surge between his
legs to full bloom. He wanted more than anything the touch of love. He had a
need to be comforted and he listened for noises from his father’s room. When he
heard none, he knew Don Emilio had fallen asleep, settled for the night.

Santiago
allowed the warmth to fill him, feeling Fidel’s smooth flesh against his own.
He closed his eyes and imagined himself blending and becoming one with Fidel.
He sensed his heart beating faster and felt the urgency of his lover by the
hardness that pressed itself between his legs. He reached behind and held the
hot penis, feeling it pulse and growing. Santiago turned and faced Fidel. Their
mouths met and their tongues touched. Santiago gently pushed himself loose. He
sat up and straddled his lover’s hips and felt Fidel’s erection against his
lower back. Opening himself, he let Fidel enter him slowly.

“I love you,”
Fidel whispered.

“Fuck me...!”
Santiago commanded.

“Oh yes...,
please let me spill myself in you..., I want to be with you even when I am not
here. I want you more than anything!”

But Santiago
held off. Instead he leaned closer to Fidel and his own erection stood out only
inches from Fidel’s mouth and the tip was already glistening with the juice
Fidel loved to taste. In one move Fidel raised himself and took Santiago into
his mouth and drove himself down onto Santiago’s cock so that it sunk deeply in
his throat. His tongue caressed and licked, lapped and pushed beneath the young
boy’s testicles until Santiago writhed with pleasure. Fidel’s hands held and
fondled the boy’s buttocks and a finger probed between them so that soon it was
inside and stimulating. Santiago could stand it no longer.

“If you do not
stop..., I will shoot all over you and I do not want that, yet.”

Fidel’s finger
remained and he continued to slowly move it, just enough to make Santiago beg
for more in spite of his protestations to stop. With the boy deep in his
throat, he watched as Santiago began to gyrate his hips as his stomach muscles
tightened, showing the wonderful ripples of his abdomen. The younger boy’s body
was tense with excitement and his head was thrown back, the long hair wet from
sweat, fell about his shoulders. Fidel’s hands were on Santiago’s hips and he
brought him even deeper into his mouth. He could smell the sweat and musk of the
boy’s crotch and it was a smell he craved and cherished. He loved the pendulous
sack that was filled with the liquid he loved to taste and hold in his mouth
for as long as he could, sometimes freely ejaculating from the experience.

Santiago felt
the finger inside him and he experienced the sharp pleasure that spread
throughout his groin each time it moved. He almost cried at the pleasure and
the exquisite joy of feeling totally captured whenever Fidel sucked him. Fidel
had become an expert at knowing all the things that could be done to make him
feel ecstacy. Santiago applied spittle to his own penis and reached behind to
spread some on his anus. He studied the expression on his lover’s face and
almost ejaculated when he felt himself entered and saw Fidel’s eyes close in
rapture when he sat down on him so that he could take no more.

Santiago was
always entranced by the reactions he was able to bring out of Fidel when he
made love to him. He studied his face and the sharp features of the mountain
Indian, these features that softened whenever they made love. Fidel’s eyes
would become gentler and sometimes Santiago would think he was seeing a
different person as the sharpness of his lineage became tender in the rapture
of the act.

When Santiago
had been younger and before he had come to know Fidel well, he would not have
believed that this boy of rough speech and behaviors could have been a
maricon
.
As they made love he remembered the first awakening of his passion when all his
confusion was made clear as he watched Fidel and Emilio have sex together.

It has been
during the summer heat when they had planned to go to the hills for the cooler
air. There they would hunt with their slingshots. Santiago had been left behind
and because he had felt cheated, he followed them. Santiago noticed that the
two boys seemed peculiar and he could not understand the reason except that he
was being deceived. At first they had shown some caution of not being followed
and Santiago had been particularly careful not to be detected, his suspicions
heightened by their vigilance.

Instead of
heading for the hills, the boys went down to the dry river bed. There, hidden
from everyone’s eyes by a clump of trees, Santiago watched as they shed their
clothes. Riveted to the spot, he saw them do things to each other that he did
not know could be done and it made him hard between the legs. He could feel
blood rushing through his head and the noise in his ears sounded loudly. He
thought his heart would break through his chest as his eyes never left the two
naked bodies and he watched his brother mount Fidel and was surprised at how
roughly he dealt with Fidel, brutally unconcerned for the pain expressed by his
moaning. Again and again Emilio stuck himself into Fidel without care or
preparation, enjoying the power he held over him because of the role Fidel
seemed forced to play due of his sexual orientation. Emilio looked for
weaknesses and utilized the weapons, and he exploited Fidel for the same
reason. Santiago watched in fascination and became so excited that he
ejaculated without having touched himself when he saw his brother reaching
climax.

This memory
occurred each time Santiago let himself be taken by Fidel and in this case, the
act was not one of control or submission but one of love by each. There was
nothing Santiago would not do or deny Fidel. Now he rocked himself, feeling the
sex deep inside him, allowing himself to be taken by the thrill of pain and
pleasure. He increased his motion, knowing Fidel loved to hear him call out his
name and the words that described in graphic detail the acts they performed on
each other. He knew Fidel was reaching his peak when he would arch his back and
fully impale himself so that nothing more could be gained, and the stream of
white fluid would be ejected so that each spasm of the cock would cause his own
ejaculation that often sent his juices beyond his lover’s shoulders.

They were
close to his father’s room and their excitement was controlled as Santiago
grabbed Fidel’s arms and squeezed them tightly as he felt his explosion begin
from the depths of his anus just as Fidel let out his little cries of pleasure
when he reached orgasm. As Fidel ejaculated in Santiago, he watched the boy
climax across his stomach. He was quick to take up as much of it on his fingers
as he could and he tasted it over and over again. When it was over and they
were lying quietly in each other’s arms, their wet bodies pressed together so
each could feel the other’s heartbeat, they whispered the words of their love.
Although Fidel thrilled at hearing them, the words did not come easy for him to
say. But he said them now because he knew Santiago needed to hear them.

“I was so
happy seeing you and Don Emilio returning, close together. It was the way you
used to be. You love your father too deeply to have let the distance that
separated you this day, remain. It is because you love him so much that you
felt so much anger towards him.

“I could not
see how he could take the anger you were prepared to use against him, and I
could not see how you could live with what you were feeling. The words you
wanted to say would have wounded him badly.”

“I know,”
Santiago snuggled closer. “And I happy I did not tell him more than I did, as
so much was boiling inside me! Thank you for being with me, Fidel. I love you.”

“You are my
lover, Santiago. I may not say what you want me to say as often as I should but
I love you no less.”

They whispered
to each other until sleep overtook them. Twice Santiago woke during the night
to find Fidel close by his side, his face illuminated by the embers of the
hearth and his heart filled with affection so that he remained silent until
dawn appeared in the distant sky.

F
lorienda
Cali was buried beside her son on December 12, 1848. Two days after her death,
the priest came to say mass for her soul. To the many who had known her, she
had been a quiet and introspective woman of controlled passions, one who loved
her husband and lived for her children. The people came to pay respect and to
observe the child’s and husband’s grief.

With the
passing of days Santiago found consolation in the workshop. The rubble was
cleared from the property and it was made workable. The boy buried his sadness
in a total immersion with the woods. He loved wood and lavished attention to
the textures and feel of the grains. Time stopped for him when he carved and it
was of little concern that he worked for hours only to be reminded of the
passing of time by the ache in his stomach for food.

Repairs to the
house were accomplished with the help of several neighbors, and were done
piecemeal as time allowed. The priest had come to help and Santiago began to
notice that Don Emilio and Padre Lipolito spent much time together; talking all
the while they worked. This appeared to be a discussion of a serious nature.
They often paced back and forth as they spoke. Once they climbed the hill and
stayed until sun set. By the evening Santiago had grown too hungry to wait so
he went to find Señora Celeste to see what she had done about the meal.

“Eat,
Santiago,” she urged, setting soup and bread before him. “You have not eaten a
bite all day and I did not want to disturb you, earlier. Come sweet child, sit
and begin. Do not wait for your father and the priest.”

Santiago ate
ravenously and quickly, wanting to return to finish the piece he was carving so
that he would not be late in meeting Fidel.

“Eat slowly!
Why do you hurry? Enjoy this food and do not abuse your stomach so that you do
not complain all afternoon that my soup has caused you discomfort when it will
have been for no other reason than your own fault.”

She came close
and kissed the top of his head. Señora Celeste had grown fond of the quiet,
sensitive boy. She was captivated by his beautiful mouth and eyes. Many of the
women of the village discussed Santiago. His looks were admired and the bulge
between his legs did not go unnoticed. He had walked into the kitchen, once,
thinking no one at home. She had turned to find him standing naked, as
surprised to see her as she was to see him. Her eyes lowered to his crotch and
her smile had embarrassed him. Nothing had been said but afterward she
sometimes commented on how much he was growing or how big he was getting. Soon
even these comments lost their embarrassing effect and he grew used to her
admiration. Sometimes he intentionally gave her an opportunity to see him in
some provocative state of undress. It was her age that disarmed the notoriety
of her forwardness and language.

“So you are
dressed to go out? Do you have some young lady in mind to tease with that?”  She
would say, pointing to his crotch. “Only love would make a young man go out on
a cold night such as this and brave a dark and lonely road. You smell so sweet!
You used your mother’s toilet water, didn’t you! It smells lovely and will make
her heady, but I doubt the young lady will be moved by you smelling like wild
flowers, Santiago. Perhaps a more manly scent would be in keeping with your
very manly qualities?” Again she looked at his crotch.

“I will bring
you the scent my husband wore whenever he had designs to lure me into bed.”

Señora Celeste
giggled and clucked  as she worked about the kitchen, laughing at him as he
blushed. Santiago stood to leave, kissing her on the forehead.

“Be kind and
gentle with her, little one. The toy you carry can easily become a weapon if
not used properly!”

Her laughter
followed him as he walked down the road toward Fidel’s house and he thought of
her allusion best left uncorrected.

They met at
the mileage marker as they did each night. The darkness allowed them to hold
hands without fear. A full moon lit the way as they climbed carefully down
toward the dry riverbed. The river flowed only when it rained, but there was
enough moisture in the soil to sustain vegetation along its banks. They made
their way toward a clearing formed by surrounding bushes, and it offered a
perfect place for a rendezvous. The shrubbery was thick enough to make it
impossible for anyone to see them from the river or road above even in daylight
hours.

Fidel knew the
place well and even in the darkness he could avoid the stones and sidestep the
gullies along the path. They brought armfuls of grass and made the ground
comfortable, and would sometimes sit and talk for hours of things that Santiago
had never talked with anyone before. Something about Fidel brought out this
need in him. Fidel was a good listener and  made Santiago feel that what he
said was meaningful. They came because there was no other place to go where
they felt safe. The spirit of their lovemaking reinforced their relationship
and the hours they spent together holding hands and talking were sweet moments
for Santiago that made the days less lonesome. These moments were heightened
when he would feel Fidel inside him and realize with a surge of his own
pleasure, how greatly he gave pleasure to his friend. The sweet ecstasy was in
the knowledge that he carried a part of Fidel within himself from meeting to
meeting and was, therefore, rarely without him.

Even though
this night was somewhat dampened by the recent events there was still enough
yearning from each to make the meeting exciting. Though it was the cold season,
the night was balmy and they undressed to lie together with only a blanket to
cover them and lay quietly for some time, watching the stars.

“How is your
father feeling?” Fidel asked, “Everyone wonders why Padre Lipolito and he are
so often together, lately.”

“I do not
know. He left for the village to meet with him again and told Señora Celeste to
tell me not to wait for him.”

Fidel looked
at him questioningly. “Does that bother you?”

“No. I know he
is going to get drunk once he leaves the priest. I suppose he had a right. He
has it coming. I have you, and he has his bottle – not much of a comfort for
him, is it? Each to our own!”

“Do I comfort
you?” Fidel asked as he nibbled at Santiago’s ear. “Do I give you comfort?”

Santiago
became excited when he felt the breath on his neck and was soon erect.

“At times like
these you give me anything
but
comfort,” he said, taking Fidel’s hand
and bringing it under the blanket.

Fidel though
wonderful to hold his lover’s erection so lovingly, sensing the boy’s passion
pulsing in it. Fidel giggled as he rolled onto Santiago and pressed his own
penis between the boy’s legs and covered his mouth with his.

“I love you,
Santi!” Fidel held Santiago so tightly that it hurt the boy.

They made love
and the physical expression of that word was only a small part of what it meant
to each of them. Beside the love that Santiago felt for his parents, he had had
no other feelings of it until Fidel. It was sometimes too much to bear and when
his feelings for Fidel became heightened when their bodies merged, nothing else
could compare to it.

Santiago
recalled the first attraction he had for Fidel. He had looked up to the big boy
who seemed to know everything and of whom people seemed to admire. Even the
village children liked Fidel and followed him. Santiago was drawn to him
because Fidel had shown him some interest. He had come to his defense when the
older brother had rebuked him too severely or had mistreated him as he was
inclined to do so. And so Santiago’s feelings of admiration for Fidel slowly
turned to feelings that ran much deeper.

Santiago
wondered many times why Fidel had chosen him from among the other children, to
befriend. He would often catch Fidel looking at him, seemingly mesmerized, and
would wonder what he was seeing. Santiago began to get some notion of the
meaning behind the looks when he noticed others – mostly men – who looked at
him in the same way. It led him to investigate himself. One day when he was
standing before the mirror he was surprised by the beautiful boy that looked
back at him. Without conceit he realized he was growing into a young man of
extraordinary good looks and it pleased him, as he had always thought of
himself as awkward.

He wondered
what the direction and destiny his relationship with Fidel would take. They had
discussed leaving Santa Cecilia for they knew they could not continue as lovers
in such a small village without being discovered. Clandestine meetings were
unsatisfactory and the journeys to Lima, not often enough. They wanted to live
together and had spoken of running away to Lima, but Santiago knew his father
depended on him for help. He also expected the boy to carry on the business.
Santiago had become a good craftsman. There seemed no solution but they assumed
time and fate would solve the dilemma, little realizing the accuracy of this
assumption!

Santiago and
Fidel had fallen asleep with a warm and loving closeness having lulled them
into a trance-like stupor. At some point Santiago became aware that several
hours had passed and was sure it was well after midnight.

“Fidel, wake
up. Your mother will be wondering what happened to you. We must get back...,
wake up!”

He shook
Fidel’s shoulders gently until he opened his eyes and smiled. Looking into
Santiago’s eyes, Fidel brought the boy’s face to his own and kissed him.

“I want you in
my mouth, Santi.”

Their tongues
met and probed each other as they explored the sensuality of this sensation,
each aware of the other’s taste and wanting to hold onto the flavor as a token
of the other.

The boys
walked back to the road in silence. Santiago escorted Fidel home. He took his
time going to his own house assuming there would be no one waiting and
therefore was surprised to hear the sound of his father’s voice.

“Where have
you been, son?”

“I walked to
Fidel’s. We talked and fell asleep. I did not think you would be back so soon.
I am sorry I worried you.”

Don Emilio
stoked the fire and put a kettle on for tea.

“You and Fidel
are very close friends.”

Santiago felt
his heart skip a beat, not sure of the implication and fearing the worst; that
his father had discovered the nature of their relationship. Still, the words
had been said innocently enough!

“He is my best
friend!”

“You would
miss him very much if you could not see him, I suppose?”

“Father, what
are you talking about?”

“Santiago, as
you know I have been seeing much of Padre Lipolito. He has been telling me of
some wonderful things. I told him there were many painful memories for us here
– that I would have difficulty being happy here. I have fear and dislike for
this place now and have considered selling what we have and going to Lima. The
Padre tells me some men who represent rich merchants are interested in buying
this land. They want to farm it and the Padre feels we could get a good price.
We could do just as well in Lima. Would you like to move there?”

Santiago was
so taken by surprise that he was speechless. He thought of Fidel and of leaving
him behind and the thought of not seeing him or of not being able to spend
evenings together made Santiago’s blood run cold. A deep fear that something
was happening of which he had no power overwhelmed him.

“Must we do
that?

Don Emilio was
surprised by the fear in his son’s eyes. He had thought the boy would have
jumped at the chance to leave and go to Lima, having always returned from that
place with high praise and excitement for its wonders.

“I thought you
wanted to go to Lima. But there is no need to decide this tonight. We must give
it some thought. Please try to be open to the possibility, and we will speak of
it at some other time. It is late and we must sleep. Come, time for bed. I will
join you in a while. I have need to do some work first.”

“Please
father, why can’t we stay here? We have everything we need here. I don’t think
I want to go to Lima to live.”

“All right,
Santiago. Do not let this upset you. Nothing has been decided. I will not make
this decision without you.”

Santiago went
to bed troubled. He dreamed troublesome dreams and awoke many times during the
night, each time going back into sleep and returning to the same dream. He
found himself in an unknown place surrounded by unknown faces. Yet somehow he
felt he knew them and told them he was lost and needed help to find his way
back home. All pretended not to know him and turned a deaf ear to his plight as
he struggled to find an escape alone. He walked in a particular direction
because he had felt it to be the right one but as he walked nothing appeared
familiar and everything became even more remote. Sensing someone behind, he
turned to find all the faces watching and none willing to help. His fear and
frustration mounted until he woke with a cry in his throat.

Startled and
frightened and with his arms and legs aching with the tension of the night
Santiago’s eyes were wet and swollen. He stood with a blanket draped across his
shoulders and walked into the garden. The sky was clouded and the wind blew
from the west carrying with it the ocean’s scent. Santiago could see two white
stones, specters in the shadows, with a statue of the Virgin between them. He
walked to the graves and knelt at one where the soil was freshly turned.
Santiago listened to the night sounds and recalled his mother and how she had
walked the garden at night when all others were thought to be asleep. The
nights had soothed her and in his small way, Santiago the child had kept vigil
with her. He lifted his head and looked about, struck by a feeling of impermanence
and knew his time in this place was at an end.