“Maybe.” Hernán shrugged even though Rudy couldn’t see him. He’d learned not to bother holding his cousin’s feet to the ground. “You changed the subject before, though. What’s going on at Veranda?”
Rudy sighed. “It’s the end of the season. Claude will shut Veranda down next week and I haven’t been able to line anything else up yet.”
“Didn’t Claude put in a good word for you?” The pause was pronounced, so he prompted, “Rudy?”
“I think Gerald got Claude to spread the word I’m not reliable.”
“That’s bullshit!” Hernán exploded. “You never missed a day of work.”
“There aren’t that many jobs anyway. Most restaurants close for the season. Unless August sweeps me off to Vermont, I’ve been thinking it’s time to go back to Boston and see what I can find there for the winter.”
Hernán wished he had money to help Rudy out, but the small cash reserve he’d built up over the summer was going quickly to cover the groceries he and Colin ate. Colin resisted taking anything in payment but Hernán needed to believe he wasn’t wholly dependent on Colin’s generosity. He didn’t know what he’d do when the last of his money ran out, and he didn’t know how Rudy was going to make it without Hernán to split the bills.
The situation made him realize all over again what a vulnerable position he’d allowed himself to fall into. And how selfish he’d been. Rudy had given up his Rolex watch to get Hernán away from Lonnie, and his job situation was precarious because he tried to cover Hernán’s immigration status. Yet Hernán let Colin whisk him away to Washington and left Rudy to fend for himself.
“I can hear you beating yourself up, Nán,” Rudy said in his ear. “Don’t. I’ve got rent covered through November and that leaves me time to take the ferry to Boston a few times and look for a job. I’ll be fine.”
“I wish there was some way I could help you.” He heard the desperate edge to his own voice.
“You’re helping me by getting permission to stay here legally. That way I won’t have to worry about you. How are things going with that mister man?”
“Um, it’s good,” Hernán temporized. “Colin’s doing a lot for me.”
“I had a good feeling about him, but you stay smart. Don’t get mixed up about why you’re there. Hey, I need to get to Veranda while I still have a job. Love you, primo!”
“I love you too, Rudy. Call me soon and let me know what happens in Boston.”
After the call, Hernán stayed out on the porch and watched planes in their landing pattern. The irony of Rudy warning him to be careful would have made him laugh if he weren’t afraid that Rudy was right. He was foolish to become so dependent on a man, even one as kind as Colin.
As he fretted, the housecleaning service team arrived and began to clean inside. It shamed him to sit on his ass while they worked. The first time they’d come after Hernán’s arrival, he’d tried to help but the man in charge of the team chattered at him to stay away and let them do their job.
What does he think I’m doing here? Does he think that Colin and I… That we…? Shit, he couldn’t even say it to himself. He looked down into the depths of his cup and slowly enunciated the thought: Does he think that we have sex together?
The idea was terrifying and yet…maybe less overwhelming than it had been. Colin’s respectful distance meant so much to Hernán. His initial fears that Colin would be like everyone else who looked at him that way eased day by day. They would say good night, hug tightly for a long moment, and then Colin would head down the hallway to his bedroom.
His own terrors and inexperience kept him from seeking more than their daily hug, but Hernán’s body was hungry. Rudy had sometimes brought men back to their apartment in Boston, and then in Provincetown. From Hernán’s narrow bed, he’d peer into the darkness, watching Rudy and his companion. He’d hear the slide of skin on skin, or the wet suckling as Rudy took a man into his mouth. With a hand on his own hard cock, he’d inhale sharply when he heard Rudy’s slight gasp and the bedsprings began to squeak.
He burned to experience for himself so many things Rudy did, or told him about. Was Colin the one with whom Hernán could finally move beyond his fear?
Maybe.
But after his call with Rudy, and the judgmental looks he imagined from the cleaners, and his awareness of dwindling funds, he found his leg moving jerkily up and down on the porch. Desire was one thing. He couldn’t allow himself to depend so much on Colin that he became trapped again.
He kept thinking about it even as he went inside and turned to his immigration papers. The forms reminded him yet again how precarious his place in the United States was, and how few options were open to him. He understood Colin’s worries about him seeking work under the table, and he didn’t want to believe it had anything to do with keeping Hernán vulnerable and penniless.
Yet that was the end result, wasn’t it? If he couldn’t work, he’d have to rely on Colin for not only his shelter but his food, his clothes, every necessity. His gut clenched and rebelled at the thought.
That was probably why, when Colin walked through the door that evening, the first thing Hernán blurted was, “I need to get a job.”
Colin blinked at him and slowly set his satchel on the floor. After a moment, he asked, “Can we talk about it, or are you telling me what’s going to happen?”
Hernán flushed. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I just, uh…¡mierda!” He stood from the dining room table where he’d been drafting out a letter to the hospital in San Marcos to obtain his medical records. “Let me try that again. Colin, I really think I need to get some work and I’d like to talk with you about it.”
Colin smiled. “Sure. How about you give me a few minutes to change my clothes and then we’ll sit down and discuss it?”
Hernán nodded. “Would you like some tea? I can make it while you change.”
“Perfect. Be right back.”
Hernán fixed mugs of herbal tea and carried them out to the balcony. The late September evening was brisk but not really cold. Sunset over Washington painted high clouds in orange and purple, while the contrail of a jet traced a white line toward the riot of color.
Hernán breathed deeply, trying to let the wonder of that sky lift him away from his nerves. He was so small in the scheme of things. His troubles seemed enormous, but every person he could see on the sidewalk below probably carried burdens that felt just as heavy.
He had a tremendous advantage over those men and women, though. He had Colin, offering him a helping hand, if only Hernán could accept that help.
The sliding door opened and closed again, and Colin sank into the chair next to him. He picked up his mug and tipped the edge of it against Hernán’s before inhaling deeply. “Jasmine. Very nice.” They watched a plane grow larger as it cut across their view on a descent to the Washington airport. Hernán breathed easier, with Colin there next to him.
After a few minutes of quiet companionship, Colin spoke. “I haven’t taken my plane up since we came home and I’m getting itchy. Do you think you might like to fly with me this weekend?”
“Sure. Flying was pretty amazing. Where do you like to go?”
“Well…” Colin trailed off and stared into his tea. “I haven’t been to see my folks in a while. Maybe we could go up to New Jersey, spend the night and come back on Sunday.” He looked earnestly at Hernán, a hopeful expression visible in his eyes even through the glasses.
Hernán still knew little of Colin’s family except that they were rich. What would they think if Colin showed up with a strange man? His clothes were shabby and he needed a haircut. He felt his cheeks color at the thought of meeting Colin’s parents in his needy state.
“We can do something else if you want,” Colin said quickly. “Maybe fly over the Shenandoah to see the foliage changing colors. Anyway, I derailed us. There’s something you want to talk about.”
Hernán nodded. “I’m, uh… This is difficult.” He leaned forward in his chair
and set his mug on a small wooden cocktail table between them. “I’m almost out of funds, Colin. You’re generous with letting me stay here and everything. I can take it from you if I’m able to give something back, but that’s about to end. I’d really like to get a job so I can pay my share.”
Colin focused on his mug and took a sip. Carefully, he said, “You know I don’t need the money—”
“You don’t need anything,” Hernán interrupted. “But I do. I need to do something so I’m not just letting you take care of me.”
Colin’s glasses flashed when he looked up quickly. “You’re wrong, Nán, when you say I don’t need anything.” Just what he needed remained unspoken. Colin flushed slightly and continued. “But you said ‘take care of you’. Is this about that Nimble guy in Provincetown?”
“No. Yes.” Hernán shook his head. “I don’t know. Right now everything is coming from you and it scares me.”
“I would never cut you off or throw you out.”
“I guess.” Hernán squirmed. “No, I trust you or I wouldn’t be here. But I have to be able to contribute something.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Colin’s voice sounded tight when he spoke again. “I’m worried if you get a job off the books. Like I said when we flew back to DC, if you’re caught it could be the end of your attempt to get documents. Tell me something. Is it really about earning money, or more that you don’t feel useful?”
Hernán had to think about that one. Realistically, he knew what he’d been putting toward groceries was a drop in the bucket compared to everything Colin did for him. So what was it that really mattered?
Standing on my own feet. Feeling like I’m someone Colin wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with in public, or introduce to his family.
Hernán scratched above his eyebrow. Sheepishly, he admitted, “I guess it isn’t the money as much as wanting to be proud of myself.”
“I get that. I don’t have to work but I do, if you know what I mean. If you’d take it, I’d just give you—Hey!” Colin’s head snapped up. “Here’s an idea. We always need translators and tutors at the immigration center. Spanish speakers from all over need help acclimating. French, too. Courses in English as a second language are in big demand, but we don’t have enough teachers. We try to help non-English speakers with other things, like how to open a bank account or apply for a job. Some people need a translator so they can talk with a lawyer.
“So hear me out. I make a, uh, sizable contribution every year to the Initiative, anonymously. I also give for special projects or activities when I see the need. In fact, I’ve been doing some research lately into what it would cost to hire a dedicated English teacher. In DC, a tutor can typically command around thirty dollars an hour. At thirty hours a week, then, that’s a little over a thousand. A DC pubic school teacher is going to earn on average around sixty thousand a year, not including benefits.”
Colin leaned toward Hernán. “Your language skills would be really valuable to the center. It can’t pay you, though, since you don’t have an Employment Authorization Document. But let’s say I give you the amount of money that I otherwise planned to donate to pay an English teacher full time. In exchange, you volunteer at the center as an ESL tutor and translator for thirty hours a week.”
Hernán frowned. “Is that legal? I can’t get you sucked into my trouble.”
“It’s fine. In a few states that really fight to limit immigration, they might say I’m harboring a fugitive.” Colin snorted and shook his head disgustedly. “But in most places, including here, this would just be considered a gift. My accountant will figure out how to report it.”
“When, uh, when would this begin?” Hernán asked cautiously.
“I feel like we should get further in your immigration process so the work doesn’t distract you. That’s still the most important thing, right? We’ll have you start when we’re sure working at the center won’t interfere. To tide you over, I’d like to give you an advance of, oh, two thousand dollars, and then a thousand a week.”
Hernán sputtered. “That’s too much!” he protested. “Two or three hundred is more than enough for me.”
“Seven-fifty a week, fifteen hundred upfront, and that’s my final offer,” Colin said with a grin, “And this is the strangest negotiation I’ve ever had.”
Sipping his tea to buy time, Hernán thought about what Colin offered. It was more than generous. It went beyond kind. Colin understood what was really bothering Hernán and offered a solution to let him keep his pride. The salary fiction was a fig leaf for Colin putting money in his pocket, but Hernán was prepared to work very hard at the center in return.
The idea of teaching English to others began to excite him. He’d dreamt of becoming a teacher, back when his world seemed bounded by San Marcos. With the role Colin offered, he could do something meaningful for others and find out if he was any good as an educator, all while bringing in money that he could share with Rudy as well.
Hernán’s heart thumped and his eyes burned as he nodded his acceptance.
Over dinner later that evening, Colin said, “So speaking of your immigration process, I talked to David James today. That’s Brandon’s boyfriend. I mean husband.” He squinted at the ceiling for a moment. “Huh. Still not used to that.”
At his pause, the warmth in Hernán’s chest ran cold. Recalling Colin’s past with Brandon, he berated himself for selfishness. Colin clearly wasn’t entirely over it and, given the quick look he’d had of Brandon back at Veranda that one time, he could understand. Brandon was vibrant and handsome. No wonder Colin still had feelings for him.
He gave his friend what he hoped was a sympathetic look, even as he ignored a sharp pang in his gut.
Colin shook his head clear and continued. “Anyway, David called me from Paris. He’s set us up to meet with a colleague of his tomorrow so we can start developing a plan to get you a work permit or other permission to stay. When David returns from the honeymoon, he’ll be more involved personally.”
“That’s great,” Hernán said, unconvincingly. He tried to be more enthusiastic when he added, “I was wondering when I’d have to start telling my story.”
Staring at the ice cubes melting in his glass of water, Colin quietly asked, “You know you’re going to have to be really honest with the lawyers, right?”
Hernán’s guard immediately went up. “What do you mean? I’ve always told you the truth.”
“I know that,” Colin protested quickly. “I wasn’t implying anything. What I mean is, you’re going to have to tell them everything if they’re going to be able to help you. Including the things you don’t want to talk to me about.”
Hernán’s heart began to race. He’d known that was coming, but not that it would be tomorrow. Exposure. And in front of strangers. He muttered something about seconds and hurried to the kitchen with their plates. Retrieving a platter from the warming oven, he fought to control the quivering in his stomach. I have to talk about Lonnie.
“Breathe,” Colin said behind him, and only then did Hernán realize he’d been holding his breath. When he tried to serve a piece of chicken, his hand trembled so badly he couldn’t hold the tongs. Instead, he rested his palms on the kitchen counter.
Colin’s brow furrowed deeply. “I know this will be very difficult. Can you do it, or do you need more time to prepare?”
Hernán’s head shot up. Could I put it off? Another week—surely I’d be ready then. He’d work up to it, maybe try revealing little pieces to Colin. To practice.
No. Every day he delayed meant more time that he was sponging. Every day meant he was risking Colin’s happiness. Sooner or later, the darkness that followed Hernán would begin to seep into Colin too.
He cleared his throat and said roughly, “I’m ready.” He carried the refilled plates back to the dining table.
Colin beamed as he sat down again. “That’s great. I know you can do it. What do you think, though? Would you want me to be there when you tal
k to the lawyers, or should I keep out of the way?”
“Please be there,” Hernán said immediately, almost gasping. Then he regretted his neediness. He stuttered. “If…if you want to be there. I mean, it’s rough to hear. I’m, uh, I’m afraid…” He stopped talking and almost ran from the table again, but Colin’s steady gaze held him in place. Colin had given so much that the least he could do was be honest about his craziness.
His eyes blurred and he looked down at his food. “I’m afraid you’ll think less of me when you know.”
A soft noise of protest brought his gaze back to Colin. “Never, Hernán. I think you’re brave, coming to the States. People I’ve worked with at the center have sometimes told me their stories. Horrific accounts of why they left their home countries and what happened to them on the journey. I can imagine how hard that crossing would be.”
Hernán bristled. “Can you? What exactly is it in your life that lets you imagine the choice between staying where you are and being murdered, or coming to a country where you’ll be a criminal? When has your family had to scrape together every penny it had to pay smugglers to take you on a journey so terrible that you sometimes wished you could just die?”
His voice had grown strident, and Colin blinked at him nervously. He held up a palm. “Point taken. I didn’t mean to be patronizing. And you’re right. I can’t really imagine what you’ve been through. But I’m here to learn, if you’ll teach me. Besides, you put your trust in me and came to Washington. That took courage. There’s nothing you could tell me that would make me think less of you.”
He sounded so certain that Hernán let himself believe it might be true. Sincerity shone in Colin’s blue eyes, and Hernán drew strength from it. His heart still thumped painfully, but it grew less erratic. And gradually, he realized, he was less afraid.
Then why was his face still warm? Why did the blood rush in his ears? His stomach was in knots too, and his hands shook slightly. But…he almost liked it.
Asylum (Pride and Joy Book 2) Page 11