Chulito: A Novel

by Charles Rice-González

  “You want some food?” Carmen asked through the door. She cooked every night, even if Chulito was not going to be home for dinner.

  “I’m not hungry.” It was an automatic answer, but he, in fact, was ravenous.

  “O.K., I’ll put the food away.”

  “Wait.” He got up, wrapped the sheet tightly around his waist and opened the door. “I got caught in the rain.”

  “I figured. I saw your clothes hanging in the bathroom.” She tilted her head as if by doing so she would be able to see him better. “Are you O.K.? You’re not getting sick, are you?”

  Chulito smiled. “I don’t think so, but whatever you made smells good.”

  Carmen raised her eyebrows. “Chuletas.”

  “Damn! I’m gonna have me some of those.”

  “Qué milagro, you actually want something to eat. You don’t have some place important to run off to?”

  He smiled. “I’m supposed to hang out with Kamikaze later, but I wanted to ask you what you wanted for your birthday.”

  Carmen was going to turn thirty-seven the next day.

  “For my birthday? Va

  Chulito sighed. “Ma, you know I ain’t down with school. Plus I ain’t got Carlos to help me.” He grabbed the tickets and handed them to her.

  Carmen headed toward the kitchen. “Don’t blame him for dropping out. You could at least get your GED, even though it’s not the same as going to school. Think about it, Chulito. You only missed one semester. You could go back in September. That would make me very happy.”

  “O.K., I’ll think about it. But would you like a perfume or how about something for the house?” Chulito took the serving spoon from his mother. “Sit, I’ll serve myself.”

  She smiled and sat. “Pass my coffee. You sure you’re O.K.?”

  Chulito sat at the table, stabbed at the rice and beans on his plate then bit into a crisp fried chuleta. The flavor of the fresh pork and rich garlic overtook his mouth. “These are the best.”

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full. You gonna choke.” Carmen sipped her coffee. “You don’t have to get me anything for my birthday. Just stay out of trouble and get your GED. You can’t be a messenger your whole life.” Carmen chose to believe the lie Chulito told her that he was a messenger for the health clinic on the other end of Southern Boulevard rather than a runner for Kamikaze. If she confronted him, he would just defy her and keep on working with Kamikaze and if she threatened to throw him out, he would just leave and he knew that she didn’t want to be left alone.

  “O.K., so what if I promise to sign up for a GED course when we get back from P.R., I could still buy you some perfume or a bracelet?”

  Carmen got up and stood next to Chulito. “I will love whatever you get me and if you do sign up for that course, Carlos could help you since he’s back. I know he will.”

  Chulito both loved and was annoyed by how his mother persisted. He would eventually either do the course or go back to school, but it would be only to make her happy. “I don’t know about Carlos helping me out.”

  Carmen sat beside him. “I try to stay out of your business, but what happened? You were so happy he was coming home and Maria and I were happy that you two were talking.”

  Chulito stared down at the food that remained on his plate. He couldn’t tell his mother that he was feeling Carlos and as Carlosthat he didn’t know how to handle that. So he shrugged his shoulders and continued eating.

  “You know what?” Carmen got up and turned on the radio. A salsa song played. “Your titi Nelly in Brooklyn wants to cook dinner for me on Sunday. I know you don’t like doing the family stuff, but I would love it if you could come with me. It’s gonna be a party.” She danced around the kitchen.

  Chulito swallowed the lump of meat he’d chewed and stuffed two forkfuls of rice and beans into his mouth.

  Carmen waited for his answer.

  He nodded. “O.K., ‘cause it’s your birthday.”

  “Really?” She touched his forehead. “Are you sure you’re not sick? You really want to do this?”

  “Most def. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I could do for your birthday. I know you got big plans to go out dancing with Maria tomorrow night, but we could go eat breakfast or lunch tomorrow at the diner in Parkchester and then we could go to Macy’s.” Chulito finished all the food on his plate. He wanted to wash it down with a beer but settled for Coke.

  “I would love that.” She leaned on the table and looked down at him. “Thanks, papa, but is there something else on your mind? You seem preocupado.”

  “Nah. Nothing.”

  “Is it about Puerto Rico? Do you still want to go?” She picked up the tickets from the table and examined them.

  “Puerto Rico is cool.” He took one of the tickets and looked for his name. “I’m thinking it would be good to get out from the ’hood for a while. I still have to ask off from work, but even if they don’t give me the time…” he paused. “I’m thinking of quitting.” Chulito realized what he’d just said and felt a flutter in his stomach. Could he just quit? He never made an official pact with Kamikaze, but there was this unspoken understanding that once he was in the game, he was in it for life. Also, quitting wouldn’t be like leaving a job; Kamikaze was the person closest to Chulito. They spent most days and nights together. And Chulito liked moving in and out of clubs with ease. Besides, the only time he ever had any goods on him was when he made deliveries to some of the celebrities they handled. He remembered being backstage with Kamikaze at Madison Square Garden at the Titans of Hip Hop concert. They kept the scene well supplied and Chulito got to hang out underneath the stage as one rapper after another climbed up on the platform that elevated them to the spotlight. The crescendo of cheers had sent a thrill through his body.ablfont>

  “Is that what you have on your mind?” Carmen poured hot milk from the stove into her mug and added more coffee.

  “I just thought about it right now.” Chulito took a bite of food. He remembered that Brick had been in the game and somehow managed to get out. He should find out how he did it. Brick would probably help since he had such disdain for Kamikaze and the whole scene.

  “Well, you could go back to school full time, just so that you have more options. You could even go to college like—” Carmen stopped herself, almost as if she knew not to keep mentioning Carlos’ name.

  “Like Carlos?” Chulito finished her sentence. “He’s got his shit together, right? He always did, but you know school is not really my thing.”

  Carmen sat down across from Chulito. “Well, when you applied yourself, you did good.”

  “You mean when Carlos was helping me, I was doing good.”

  She hesitated a moment. “I don’t care what people say about him. I’ve known Carlos since he was a little boy and he’s a good person. You and Carlos were friends before, why can’t you be friends now?”

  A small chuckle escaped from Chulito. It sounded like his mother was trying to hook him up with Carlos.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “We never talked about Carlos being, you know, gay. We all just act like we know it and that nothing’s different.”

  “What is there to talk about? He is living his life, going to school and he doesn’t bring home any trouble. Maria and I have talked about it. It hurts her a lot, but she feels like she has no choice. He’s her son, and she loves him. What else could she do?”

  Chulito gave a shrug that betrayed all his macho posturing and he let his mother see that he was a sixteen-year-old boy with a lot on his mind.

  “He was your friend before any of those guys on the corner, before ese Kamikaze, so you can be friends with whoever you want.”

  Chulito wanted to phone Carlos that very minute to say he n>

  Carmen watched him. Chulito felt like she was trying to read his thoughts, then he rose and put his plate in the sink.

  Without speaking, Carmen began to put away the food.

  “Did you eat, ma?” She shook her head a
nd continued to place pots in the refrigerator and poured beans into plastic containers. “Do you still cook every night to keep Pop’s memory alive?”

  She smiled sadly. “Is that what’s going on? Are you thinking about your father?”

  “Nah.” Chulito was relieved to not have to add his father to his worries.

  “No matter what you remember about your father, he loved us in the way he knew how.”

  As for his father’s love, Chulito remembered the opposite. He barely spoke and when he did he complained about everything from the meal, to Carmen talking on the phone, to a hat Chulito may have left on a chair—“Take that fucking thing to your room. You don’t own this house.” A few times his father hit his mother and Chulito suffered a few blows in his attempts to defend her. But his dad mostly went to work at the dry cleaners on Hunts Point Avenue, came home, watched the news on Univision and drank a lot of Budweiser. His father often said that it was a mistake to get married so young. Chulito believed that if his father hadn’t been killed driving drunk, he would have eventually left.

  Still, he saw how his father’s death was liberating for his mother. In the six years since he’d passed, Carmen grew younger in Chulito’s eyes; she went out more, she dressed better, and spent time with Maria and her friends.

  “I’m gonna go listen to some music in my room. Kaz’s coming by in a few. We gonna hang in El Barrio.” Chulito left the kitchen.

  Carmen followed him. “Chulito, are you in some kind of trouble? You can tell me anything.”

  “Lay off!” Chulito caught himself. “Sorrysti. “, Ma. I just feel tired and there was a lot of ghetto drama today.”

  “Do you mean that fight this afternoon? I heard.”

  “That and more so I’m gonna chill until Kaz gets here, O.K.?” He smiled at her. “Thanks, Ma.”

  “You’re welcome, papito. I just love you.”

  Chulito looked at his mother standing in his doorway and saw how beautiful she was, not only in how she kept herself up, but how easily she was able to say I love you to him. “I know, Ma.” He wanted to say “I love you” back, but the words were caught in his storm. He wanted to curl up on the sofa with her in the living room, rest his head in her lap and feel her caress his forehead like when he was a little kid on those days when he stayed home from school because he had a tummy ache. She stayed home from work and they’d both sit on the couch underneath a blanket and watch TV.

  He wanted to tell her that he couldn’t stop thinking of Carlos. That he wanted to be near him, go downtown with him, discover new things and talk to different people other than the fellas who usually talked about the same thing over and over. He knew there was more to life than his neighborhood and Carlos knew the road to those places. He also wanted to say that he loved Carlos’ smile, how his skin looked soft, the way he blinked when his hair got caught on his lashes and how he made his eyebrows squirm like two black worms. He wanted to say, “Ma, I think I’m in love.” Instead he looked away from her loving stare. “I’m cool.” Chulito could feel the lump pulsing in his throat; the dam was going to break. He had to be alone in his room.

  His mother retreated, then he locked his door. He realized that he was alone and that solitude was what he was yearning for. He didn’t want to see anybody, not even Kamikaze. He needed to be in his room and figure out a way to deal with his pain and hunger for Carlos. He needed to make sense about how everything—his neighborhood, its people, the cracks in the sidewalks, even the stray dogs—was recognizable but they all seemed strange and unusual, too.

  He sunk into his bed, slipped on his headset, put Tupac’s

  Thug Lifeon continuous play and let the tears roll.

  chapter nine

  Chulito woke up with the sound of the front door slamming shut as Carmen entered the apartment. The blue light from the clock on his stereo system showed that it was eight A.M. He’d been sleeping for over twelve hours. He looked at his cell, which was on vibrate, and the red message light was blinking. Tupac was still rapping about not having time for bitches, threatening anyone who got in his way with a beat down, advisit cng real niggas to stick to the game and laying out the law of thug life—do what you gotta do. Chulito pulled off his headset, reached for the cell and listened to his messages. There were three from Kamikaze who’d been looking for him. Chulito turned off his phone and rolled over on his side. He thought he should call Kamikaze back, but he was enjoying being invisible for the moment and being away from the game.

  He awoke again at around ten-thirty A.M. by his startled mother’s “Ay dios” upon entering his room and seeing him on the bed. “Chulito, I thought you were out. I did laundry today and was leaving some clean clothes for you. You scared me, papa.”

  Chulito sat up in his bed and nodded. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

  “You’ve been sleeping all this time? Are you sure you are feeling O.K.?”

  “Yeah, I feel better now.” He responded with a groggy smile. “Happy birthday, Ma. You hungry so we could go out for your birthday breakfast?”

  “I was thinking maybe we could eat here and go out tomorrow?” Carmen set a small bundle of clean socks and underwear on a chair.

  “I don’t want you making breakfast on your birthday.” Chulito sat up and covered his crotch with his thin, gauzy sheet.

  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 amou
nt 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.