Chulito: A Novel

by Charles Rice-González

Chulito pulled off the yellow FuBu Shirt he was wearing and pulled the plastic off of a red Rocawear jersey he had taken out of the cleaners. He couldn’t just put it on after running around all day with Kamikaze, so he undressed and took a quick shower. Back in his room he sprayed CK One all over himself, including his ass and his balls, and flinched because he never got used to the alcohol’s sting. He put on clean socks, boxers, and the size thirtyeight Levi shorts that came down to his shins. He put on the red Rocawear jersey without a t-shirt underneath it. It was short sleeved and had snaps on the front that he closed except for the last two on top and the last two on the bottom. He checked out his braids and pulled on a red du-rag. He tied it nice and tight and topped it all off with a Yankee cap fitted to size. Then he slipped into a pair of dark blue Timberland boots. He checked himself one last time in the mirror, grabbed his wallet, watch, keys, and phone, turned off the light and yelled, “¡Bendición!” out to his mom as he slipped out the door.

  “Chu-li-to!” Papo yelled from the corner as Chulito crossed the street to go to the train station. The ten minute mark to meet Carlos was just about to strike. Shit, Chulito thought.

  “Gotta run, fellas, gotta meet up with—” He was going to say Kamikaze but then he saw Kamikaze’s car parked near the fellas, so he jogged over to the corner.

  “Man, you looked pressed.” Davey swiped his lips with his tongue. “Where you goin’?”

  “Downtown. I’ll catch you tomorrow.” Chulito turned away.

  “Hold up. You been missing for days.” Papo placed his arm around Chulito’s shoulder and pulled him close. “You don’t want a little shot with your boys before you go?”

  “Yeah, it’s just that I’m running a little late.”

  “Don’t be letting no pussy whip you, little bro.” Papo released Chulito. “Whoever she is, she gonna wait. And if she don’t,” Papo pretended to kick a can, “kick her to the curb.”

  Chin-Chin and Davey both laughed.

  Kamikaze stepped out of Gil’s Liquor Store and came down the block.

  “What are you knuckleheads up to?”

  “I think our boy here has got some chocha plans,” Papo said.

  “’Bout time,” Kamikaze said, “’cause I was getting worried about you acting all moody. Glad to see that you putting Catalina behind you.”

  “So, who is it?” Davey passed Chulito the bottle.

  Chulito took a swig of Hennessey. “It’s not like that. I’m going to hang with my cousin.”

  “In El Barrio?” Kamikaze asked. “I’m headed that way.” “No, in Brooklyn.” Chulito handed the bottle to Chin-Chin.

  “Brooklyn? You hung with them last weekend.” Kamikaze said.

  “Well, since you and I are off this weekend, I figured it would be cool to go back out there.”

  “You guys are off?” Chin-Chin asked.

  “You ain’t heard about the crazy shit going down?” Kamikaze said.

  “Look, fellas, I gotta run.” Chulito crossed Garrison Avenue. Midway across the street Papo yelled, “You ain’t going to hang with no cousins.”

  Chulito turned and gave them a sly smile.

  “I knew it,” Papo yelled.

  “Dále webo,” Davey yelled as he did a hump dance, putting his hands behind his head and pumping his hips.

  Chulito ran toward the train station. When he arrived, he didn’t see Carlos on the bench. He swiped his Metro card, ran down the stairs and found Carlos on the platform.

  “You were gonna bounce?” Chulito asked as bopped over to him.

  “I waited fifteen minutes. You’re lucky I gave you the extra five.”

  Chulito stood side by side with Carlos and scoped out the subway platform to see if there was anyone he knew. He looked at Carlos out of the corner of his eye. “How many trains did you let go by?” he asked and smiled.

  Carlos smiled back. “Only one.”

  “I knew you were gonna wait for me.”

  “So you took your time?”

  “Nah, I was right on time, and then I ran into the fellas.”

  “I figured.”

  The train pulled in and Chulito sat across from Carlos rather than next to him. There were only three other people in the car—a young couple kissed deeply, pink tongues slipping in and out of brown lips and a teenager moved to music on his headset as his blond dreadlocks bounced to the beat.

  They rode silently, stealing glances and reading the subway ads. Carlos looked fresh and clean and good enough to lick. Chulito leaned forward to ask Carlos where exactly they were going, but it didn’t matter what he asked he just wanted to talk to him and hear his voice. But as the train filled with goth kids, young women headed to a nightclubs, rambunctious teen-aged boys and nurses and security guards in uniforms heading to work, Chulito lost his nerve to speak to Carlos. He didn’t want anyone else to hear.

  At 125th Street most of the passengers switched to the express train, but Carlos moved to a corner seat and called Chulito over. They sat side by side. Sometimes their shoulders touched, sending a chill through Chulito. Carlos leaned in. “You’re so quiet. I thought you wanted to talk.”

  “I want to talk to you, not the whole train.”

  “Nobody can hear us unless you shout. I’m glad we finally got to hang.”

  “Me, too,” Chulito said. “I was scared that you wouldn’t want to see me again, after what went down in El Barrio.”

  “Everything is not cool, Chulito. I’m still not sure what to do. I bust my ass to go to school and stay clean. I really don’t feel like I want to get involved in some crazy shit. As much as I feel you.”

  Chulito nodded and looked away. “I hear you. Damn, you was bold when you came out with whole ‘I’m feeling you’ thing.”

  “Don’t change the subject.” Carlos smiled. “Let’s just hang and see what happens.”

  Chulito smoothed out his pants and adjusted his baseball cap. “I’m glad you giving me a chance to hang with you. I’m glad we here.”

  “I was tripping myself up with my feelings. I can’t explain it. And when you didn’t keep our plans for your birthday, I was wrecked.”

  “I’m sorry about—”

  “That’s in the past, but I was really hurt. I still went ahead with the plans, but instead I just took my mom and Andrew instead.”

  “That blond dude in the white Range Rover?”

  “He’s a really good friend from school.” Carlos sat up and looked at Chulito in the eye. “And since you blew me off, I invited him and my moms out to City Island.”

  “I love the seafood out in City Island.”

  “I know.”

  Chulito nudged his knee against Carlos’. “I’m sorry.”

  Carlos looked at Chulito and then away. “I was so upset because those phone conversations we had before I came made me feel close to you again. I love hearing your voice and you are so beautiful Chulito…you a pretty thug.”

  “Damn, Carlos. Don’t hold back now.” Chulito smiled, but looked nervously around the train car.

  “But I just figured, let me just say what’s up and at least let it out, because as long as it was inside me, I was just making myself crazy thinking about you.”

  “I think about you too, a lot.”

  Carlos smiled. “C’mon, it’s clear that you dig me, too.”

  Chulito smiled to mask his nervousness. “It wasn’t that clear to me, but I knew I was feeling something.”

  “What do you feel, Chulito?” Carlos’ eyes stared expectantly as if their next blink depended on Chulito’s answer.

  Chulito couldn’t put words to what he felt. The question raised sensations in his body—a flutter in his chest, a chill up his spine, a tingle in his balls. “I don’t know. I think about you, too. I love to see you smile. But a dude ain’t supposed to be saying shit like this to another dude, so I bug out.” Chulito paused while their train stopped in a station, then once it resumed he continued his conversation under its rumble. “Like when you started being all gay and
shit and everybody was talking, I stayed away because I didn’t want to be seen with you. And, even though I could never admit it to anyone, not even myself, I missed you. And I could see you were hurt when you tried to talk to me and I’d just say ‘wassup’ and keep walking. I wanted to do something else, but if we stayed friends, everybody would think I was gay and I’m not.”

  Carlos sat up. “So what are you doing here? Why did you say what you said to me on the steps?”

  Chulito was caught off guard. He thought he had a handle on the situation, but labeling what he felt for Carlos as gay didn’t seem correct. He looked at their reflection in the window across from them, sitting side by side, Carlos awaiting his answer. He then looked at the passengers as if they could help him formulate an answer—among them was a beautiful young woman with big tangled hair, a tight dress that showcased her dark, round breasts and stiff nipples. She was checking him out, too. Could she stop him from where he had every intention of going with Carlos? Was she an angel who’d come to save him from himself? He nodded to her and she smiled.

  Noticing this exchange, Carlos started to stand up, but Chulito touched his arm. He leaned over, cupped his hands around Carlos’ ear because he didn’t want one syllable to escape into the clatter of the subway car, and whispered, “I’m here because I like you Carlos, and I think about you constantly.”

  Carlos played along and whispered into Chulito’s ear. “What do you think about when you think about me?” His lips brushed Chulito’s lobe and Chulito quivered.

  “I wonder what your job is like. I wonder where you go when you go out? I think about the conversations we used to have.” Chulito wanted to add, I think about your smile and how it gives me chills. I think about how beautiful your fa Stifandce is, especially your big eyes and how you can make your eyebrows dance. I think about the day when I saw you coming around the corner, and the wind blew your shirt up how I could see your skin on your stomach and how that moment is on constant replay in my mind. I think about what it would be like to hold you. But he didn’t. He wasn’t ready to dive in.

  “What about our conversations?”

  “I feel like we here,” he said forming a “V” with fingers and drawing a line from his eyes to Carlos’ eyes and back. Carlos sat back on the seat and rested his head against the wall. Chulito did the same. Simultaneously, they looked at each other. Chulito chuckled and Carlos shook his head and smiled as they reached Astor Place.

  Navigating the mob headed toward the turnstiles, Carlos leaned into Chulito. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “No doubt, but don’t get all open leaning up on me.” Chulito smiled then leaned into Carlos.

  “I’ll make sure to keep my distance.” Carlos playfully pushed him. “Wouldn’t want any of these strangers to get the wrong impression about you.”

  Chulito looked around and realized that he didn’t know anybody. This was strange because he was so used to spending most of his time on his block where he knew everyone and everyone’s business, which affected how he behaved. But here he didn’t know anybody and nobody knew him, so he could behave however he wanted.

  As they climbed the stairs, Chulito checked out Carlos’ ass and wanted to give it a playful smack.

  When they emerged from the train station, Carlos asked him what he was smiling about.

  “Nothin’.” Chulito looked around and felt a little claustrophobic by all the people scurrying around. The only time the streets in Hunts Point were this populated was when there were street festivals or block parties.

  A corner Starbucks was full of people sitting at a ledge in the window typing on laptops, talking on cell phones and with one another. Across the street, in the middle of a concrete island, there was a black cube the size of a small house but it was standing on one of its points. He thought it looked strange and wondered what was the point of it being there. Chulito checked out the skinny boys on skateboards with plaid shirts tied around their waists whizzing by the sculpture, some kids with pink and purple hair sat on the curb near it, and a woman with a guitar and a guy with a flute played beneath the cube to a small crowd. The air smelled of coffee and sweet roasted peanuts. Chulito looked around. There wer Snd.d be a couple of old looking buildings, a K-Mart and a Walgreens, but no big gothic sign that read “Welcome to the Village.”

  “So we here?”

  “This is the East Village. We’re going to the West Village, but I came down the east side so that we could have more time to talk as we walk across town. And it’s a perfect evening. Sun is still out and it’s after seven P.M., and it’s not humid.”

  As the two began their walk they heard Carlos’ name being sung out in a falsetto faux operatic voice.

  “That’s my friend Kenny,” Carlos said as Kenny waved to them from across the street. “You want to come say hi or do you want to wait here?”

  Chulito went with Carlos. There was no doubt in Chulito’s mind that Kenny was gay. Chulito checked out Kenny’s tangle of bleach blond curls held away from his face by a red bandanna. He wore red Adidas running shoes with black hip-hugging jeans and pink tank top that was cut to just meet the waist band of his pants. Kenny was slim but muscular and a gold loop pierced his eyebrow. The one thing that didn’t match Kenny’s look was a small tattoo of the Dominican flag on his shoulder. Chulito shook his head and wondered if all of Carlos’ friends looked like this.

  Carlos hugged Kenny who looked over Carlos’ shoulder at Chulito and panned him from head to toe.

  “I heard you were back,” Kenny said to Carlos but didn’t take his eyes off Chulito.

  “Been back a couple of weeks, but I haven’t seen you around.”

  “That’s because I was giving the West Village a rest, and spending time in the East.” Kenny raised his eyebrows and pointed at Chulito.

  “This is my friend from my ’hood,” Carlos said.

  “He’s from your hood? I thought he was from Planet Yum. Yum, yum, yum. I’m liking your look. Very thug, very Jay-Z. Are you a homiesexual?”

  Chulito’s eyes narrowed and a flash of anger shot through him. “What?” he growled. “Get the fuck outta here!”

  “Oops, sorry,” Kenny said. “Didn’t mean to rush the issue. Take all the time you need.”

  “No,” Carlos jumped in. “He’s just a friend from my ’hood. His name is Chulito.”

  “Chulito? Oh, that’s perfect. Purrrfect.” Kenny danced around repeating “perfect.” “Damn, Chulito, you are over, ovah. So are you two together?”

  Chulito looked at Carlos. “What the fuck is his problem?”

  “Chill, Kenny, we’ve known each other since we were little kids and we haven’t had a chance to hang out since I’ve been back, so tonight worked out. I invited him to come with me to the pier. But we just hanging.”

  Kenny waved his hand in the air. “Whatever.”

  “It’s his first time coming to the Village.” Carlos nudged Chulito. “Right?”

  Chulito nodded.

  “Really?” Kenny’s voice raised several octaves.

  Chulito shrugged his shoulders. “Never had no reason to. I got all I need right up in my hood in the B.X. My friends, my family. Me and my friends go out sometimes, but I basically stay in my nabe.”

  “So you’re going to the pier? With him? Then I’m going.” Kenny hooked his arm around Carlos’ arm. “I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they see…Chulito.” Chulito started to think that he should have stuck to his plan to just ride down with Carlos and then head back up to Hunts Point. He didn’t like Kenny being so touchy feely with Carlos. Did they have some history?

  Chulito felt uncomfortable walking with Kenny, so he lagged a couple of paces behind them as Kenny and Carlos were catching up on news. Chulito knew what everybody in the ’hood knew about the Village. Faggots and freaks hung out there. He pictured the Village being like one in an old Dracula movie with a big gate in the front, cobblestone streets and gray stone houses. As they walked he saw what he imagined were
college students because they dressed like Carlos, then he saw a group of gay guys who looked like Kenny and they were loudly calling each other girl and Miss Thing. Chulito decided he couldn’t do it.

  “Hey, Carlos, can I talk to you?” Chulito looked away and adjusted his shirt while Carlos approached. “Yo, I want to head back home.”

  Carlos loo San>>

  Chulito nodded. Carlos turned to Kenny, “Change of plans. We’re not going to the pier.”

  “No!” Kenny stomped over to them as if he were having a tantrum. “Let’s go. Please? Come to the pier, Chulito. I promise to behave.”

  Chulito folded his arms across his chest. “I just don’t wanna be tagging along.”

  “I’m sorry, you guys were off on your evening and I jumped into your business.”

  “We ain’t got no business. What the fuck is he saying, Carlos?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Carlos said, “Kenny, we’re gonna do something else.”

  “Oh, go to the Village, Chulito. You came all this way. And the pier is fun. There’s all kinds of people there and some bring boom boxes, people dance and hang. And sometimes we go eat something. At least check it out and if you don’t like it, then you guys leave.”

  Chulito admitted to himself that he was curious about going to the Vil and the pier. He wanted to see Carlos’ world, and Kenny was right, he could leave if he didn’t like it. “Bet,” Chulito said, nodding in agreement.

  “You sure?” Carlos asked.

  “We check it. If it’s not cool, we bounce.”

  They talked about their ages, about Kenny being born in the Dominican Republic, but he lived in Puerto Rico until he was ten when his family moved to New York.

  “I bet you like rap music,” Kenny said to Chulito.

  “It’s my shit.”

  “Who’s your favorite?”

  “Pun, no doubt.”

  width="2em" align="justify">“Classic. Love him. And he was from the Bronx, so you got the Bronx connection thing going with him.”

  “I like the old school rappers like Fat Joe, Tupac, Ja Rule but I been rockin’ Fabolous, too.”

  “Holla back, young’n, whoo, whoo.” Kenny sang and Chulito laughed.