Carlos called Chulito on his cell, but he had turned off his phone.
Hours later, Chulito and Carlos sat in their respective rooms, looking out into the street until the sunrise service churchgoers paraded down the block with their king-size Bibles.
Chulito awoke with a start. He had on the same clothes. He remembered the glowing cigarette. How did he not keep himself in check? It had only been a week since they talked on the steps and less that two days since that trip to the Village and here Chulito was acting like a gay guy, doing romantic things like arranging dates and blowing kisses. Had he forgotten who he was or where he lived? What if his mother found out? The fellas? Kamikaze? This was all moving way too fast. He knew that he loved Carlos, but maybe not enough to risk his whole life and his rep over it.
He sent Carlos a text: I need to think about everything I need some time.
chapter sixteen
Carlos spent Sunday with Kenny in Brooklyn and went to see Julio first thing Monday morning before going to his internship at the New York Daily News. With all the grandstanding and
complaining he did about the homophobia in the neighborhood, he realized that the only time he reached out to Julio was when there was a major crisis. He told himself that even though Julio was gay, he was from another generation and wouldn’t really understand him. But he wondered if he, too, was reacting to Julio being flamboyant. He always greeted Puti, the drag queen, but he never really stopped to talk to her or get to know her either.
Although it was early, he saw Chulito on the corner with two of the fellas. Carlos almost decided to skip going to Julio’s because he would have to pass the corner but pushed on. He made eye contact with Chulito but said nothing.
Before Carlos could tell Julio the reason for his visit, Brick, who was usually clean and groomed, walked in right after Carlos, looking grungy, unshaven and bruised.
“Oh my god, what happened?” Julio said.
“You didn’t hear? I had a fight on Saturday night with Damian.” Brick filled Julio in on the details. “And this little nigga here saved my ass. Thanks, Carlos.” Brick went into the back.
“Hey, hands off, Eve Harrington. Brick is all mine.” Julio poured coffee. “After their fight, Jennifer left a garbage bag out front filled with Brick’s clothes and a box with all of his stuff, like colognes, razors and CDs. So he keeps his things in the back in a small storage cabinet.” Julio offered coffee to Carlos who refused. Julio called out back. “Brick, I don’t know how you can think straight. Jennifer. Crystal. And now Damian and those crazy assholes out there. You need to shift your position, vgy, papito. It’s like if I sit in this chair, all I can see is what’s out that window. But if I get up,” Julio rose and went to the window, “and change my position, now I can see what’s up or down the block, and I can decide if I want to go up, down or stay inside.”
“I hear you.” Brick walked into the office area with his face covered with shaving cream and shaved in the small sink next to the coffee maker. With each stroke, Julio and Carlos watched his face reappear. And even though his eye was discolored and the split in his lip was evident, Brick was still beautiful. Carlos felt a little guilty because he was there to talk to Julio about Chulito, but he shared Julio’s attraction to Brick. He loved how Brick was Hunts Point in the same way that Chulito was Hunts Point. They were tough and kind, rugged and smooth, and to him they were undeniably sexy and unquestionably beautiful.
Julio continued. “Glad to hear it, papa. I pay a woman on Eighty-eighth and Broadway good money once a week to help me see shit like that. And I give it to you for free. So, you need to get away. Go to a place that is not connected to all the crap here.”
“I got an uncle in P.R.”
Julio clapped. “Perfect.” He searched for flights on his computer. “When do you want to go, tonight?”
Brick wiped his face. “I need to call my uncle.”
“Let’s call him now.”
Brick called his great uncle who agreed to have him come for as long as he wanted. Julio went online and printed an open ticket departing in a week, because Brick wanted his face to heal before leaving.
A cleaned up Brick stood at the front door. “I’m gonna get some breakfast. You two want anything?”
Carlos shook his head and Julio held up the coffee. “My figure doesn’t permit me to have breakfast.”
Brick stopped next to Carlos. “Look, whatever is going down between you and Chulito ain’t none of my business.”
Carlos had been thinking about Chulito all night again. He hoped that the kiss on the roof had not ended something before it had a chance to take off. He wanted to give Chulito space, but at the same time he felt like he needed to do something to reconnect with him. “Thanks, Brick. I think Chulito is freaked out. I saw him on the corner with the fellas. He doesn’t know it was you on the roof. Maybe you could tell him that you won’t tell.”p>
Brick shrugged. “I owe you, but that kind of thing is between you two.” He turned and shut the door.
“Be careful,” Julio called out, then sat next to Carlos on the couch. “My god, he’s the man of my wet dreams.”
Carlos laughed.
“O.K., enough about Brick. What’s going on, lindo? First, it’s a miracle you’re here,” Julio said. “So, this must be big. You? Chulito? The roof?”
Carlos covered his face with his hands. He was surprised to feel tears welling up in his eyes. He worked so hard to keep himself together and felt like he was going to loose it. “I don’t think I can even tell you.”
“Let me guess, you’re pregnant.”
Carlos laughed through his tears. “No, in love with a thug.”
“Get in line. It forms to the left.” Julio laughed and wiped Carlos’ tears.
Carlos told him about Chulito and Poe Cottage, the rooftop and Brick, and Chulito’s text message. Julio locked the door and posted the closed sign. He put down his coffee and took out some rum with ice and lime. “You want some?”
“No, I gotta go to work soon and I’m only seventeen.”
“You’re only seventeen? How could you be in college? You are much too serious for your age.”
“I got skipped twice, and I’m going to be eighteen in September.”
“Don’t tell your mother I offered you rum.”
“I’ve had rum before, please.” Carlos looked out the window. “I just saw Chulito on the corner with the fellas. When things get heavy, he runs to them.”
“Are you in love, kiddo?”
Carlos nodded. “I think so.”
“So give him his space, but let him know how you feel first then give him space.”
“He doesn’t answer his phone.”
“Leave a message or do that texting thing you kids do or write him a letter.”
“A letter?”
“You kids with internet and e-mail are missing out on one of the most classic forms of romance. Give him a handwritten letter and let him know how you feel.” Julio took hold of Carlos’ shoulders. “Tell him you won’t wait forever, though. How about a song? Do you two have a favorite song?”
“We haven’t had time. Besides he just listens to hip-hop.”
“I don’t know hip-hop. Do you know a song?”
“Madonna or Nina Simone have some good songs.”
“Does he listen to Spanish music?”
“Idon’t listen to Spanish music.”
Julio rummaged through a stack of CDs and pulled out a Barry Manilow CD. “Do you know him?”
“Yeah, ‘I write the songs that make the whole world sing.’”
“Good. I was thinking maybe Barbra Streisand, but that might freak him out. When my first boyfriend broke up with me in college, Barry and Barbra got me through it.”
They popped the CD into the small player and listened to songs. He settled on “Can’t Smile Without You.”
That evening Carlos wrote a letter to Chulito, burned a copy of the CD and told him to play #11. He ended the letter saying, �
�I’m hurting. I miss you, but if you are not ready to keep going, tell me. I have to shift my position to see something else. Let me know before the weekend. Love, Carlos.”
He left the small package with Chulito’s mother, saying it was a late birthday present. She placed it on Chulito’s bed. Carlos went home and listened to his own copy of the CD. He put it on repeat and fell asleep with the headphones on.
Chulito arrived at about one A.M. The instant he turned on the light he saw the bright blue package sitting on his bed. He sat next to it and kicked off his Tims. He knew it was from Carlos and was restraining his urge to tear it open and see what he’d left him. He took off all his clothes and sat cross-legged and naked on his bed. He read the letter and listened to the song, he laughed and thought the song was perfect. He called Carlos.
Carlos sprang to pick up his cell phone when he heard it ring.
“I got your package,” Chulito said. “That song was sappy, but right on. Thanks. Nobody has ever done anything like that for me.”
“I meant every word I wrote and I agree the song is sappy, but it’s how I’m feeling.”
“Me, too. And you signed it ‘Love, Carlos.’”
“I mean that, too. So how much longer will you need space?”
Chulito didn’t want any more space. He wanted to see and be with Carlos that very instant. When he was on the corner with the fellas and saw Carlos walk by, he wanted to say that he missed him right there and then. “I want to see you right now, but we gotta be careful, Carlos. Brick spoke to me, which bugged me out a bit, but how do I know that he’s not gonna tell anybody? And I saw you go into Julio’s. So I guess you told him, too.”
“Julio and Brick are not gonna tell, but I hear you. I won’t let anybody else know.”
Chulito relaxed and lay down on his bed and ran his hand down his body. “I just don’t understand what’s going on with me. All I know is that I felt really good with what you wrote. And I don’t want you hurting, not when I am feeling the same shit. I just need to take it slow.”
“So when do I get to see you?”
“Now,” he said jokingly. “Wanna take a cab down to the Vil?”
Carlos chuckled. “If that’s the only option, but I got to be up for my internship in the morning.”
{bla
“You know I’ll go.”
“Nah, get your rest, but what if I meet you when you get out of work?”
“What about the rooftop, now?”
Chulito laughed. “You are buggin’.”
“I could check it out first, with a flashlight.”
“Let’s leave the rooftop alone.”
“O.K., then tomorrow. I get out at four.”
“Good night, Carlos. I’m gonna listen to the sappy song again. Who is this cat singing?”
“Barry Manilow.”
Chulito snorted. “It’s more like Sappy Manilow.”
chapter seventeen
Chulito waited outside theNewYork Daily News, listening to
Sappy Manilow through his earphones, but when Carlos appeared he closed his eyes and bopped his head as if he were listening to Pun or Tupac. When Carlos reached him he shoved his shoulder.
Chulito lowered his shades and continued to bop. “This is the shit.”
“Big Pun?”
Chulito slipped an earphone in Carlos’ ear.
Carlos smiled. “Sappy Manilow? You’re listening to Sappy Manilow outside your room? The thug police are gonna come and arrest you.”
Chulito bit his lower lip. “Man, I wanna kiss you right here.”
“I dare you.” Carlos puckered.
Chulito adjusted Carlos’ collar saying, “I don’t want to wrinkle your pretty, white shirt.”
Carlos tapped the brim of Chulito’s fitted Yankee cap. “Chicken. Wanna go upstairs and check out the offices?”
“Really? But I ain’t dressed right.” Chulito gestured to his ribbed, white tank top, long, baggy faded blue jeans, and white New Balance sneakers. “Look at you all khaki Dockers and I look like—”
Carlos interrupted him. “You look fine, trust me. You look damn fine. C’mon, I asked my boss before I came down if it was O.K.” Carlos turned and Chulito followed him through the large glass doors. “They’re just a bunch of offices, I can’t go to where they print the newspaper and stuff, but I can show you where all the reporters sit and the meeting rooms.”
They walked by the security guard. Carlos said hi and showed his badge and Chulito signed in. Upstairs, Carlos gave him a tour of the offices. He introduced him to his boss, Maite Junco, a Latina who wore glasses, had a mass of thick shoulder length hair and who didn’t talk much because she was on deadline.
When Carlos showed Chulito his desk Chulito sat down and pretended to type on the computer. “This is pretty dope. You got your own desk. So what do you do?”
Carlos explained that he scheduled appointments or interviews for his boss and he printed out press releases announcing events and logged them in. He answered the phone, filed reports, proofread articles and took lunch orders.
Chulito jumped up from the seat. “That sounds like a lot. You ain’t afraid of fuckin’ some shit up?”
Carlos shrugged his shoulders. “I think I do a good job.”
“I bet you do. Nobody better mess with you.”
Carlos showed him a large conference room where the writers from the entertainment section were having a meeting and Chulito recognized some of the movie critics from their picture in the newspaper. All around there were people typing on computers and others were rushing around.
“Wow, Carlos this is the real deal.”
Carlos smiled and nodded. “Yup, I really like it, too.” Carlos leaned on the edgeed width="2em of his desk and Chulito settled in Carlos’ rolling chair. “I feel alive here. This is what I want to do because journalists have to be in touch with the world and report back on what they experienced and learned. Then people read newspapers to get information that we provide and that helps them form opinions, learn about the world, even make decisions about what movie to see or what book to read.”
Chulito loved the energy in Carlos’ eyes and at the same time felt small and unimportant because he had no legit plans for his life. “Well, you always had the brains and you’re on your way, right? Doin’ ya thang here?”
Carlos smiled. “Yep. I wish I could start working here right now, but I’ll finish school first, maybe even go to Columbia School of Journalism after.” Carlos tapped the brim of Chulito’s baseball cap again. “Let’s go.”
Chulito and Carlos walked from West 33rd Street to the pier.
“That was so dope. So you gonna get a job there when you finish all your schoolin’? Am I gonna be seeing your name in the paper?”
“I’ll work there or at some newspaper, but what about you? What might you want to do?” Carlos stopped at a cart and Chulito paid for a Coke and a Diet Pepsi.
Chulito shrugged. “I used to think that I wanted to be a rapper, but I think I just wanted to be famous.”
“I only ask because you said you wanted to get out of the game, right?”
Chulito nodded and looked over at the Hudson River which glistened in the late afternoon sun. He’d said it, but faced with coming up with an answer, he felt at a loss. He was familiar with the benefits and risks of the game, even dealing with crazy scenes like surviving the one with Rey.
Carlos leaned into Chulito. “You are so beautiful you could be a famous model, Chulito. That sunlight just loves your skin.” Carlos pretended to snap his picture.
Chulito puffed up his chest. “No doubt.” He nudged Carlos. “You beautiful, too, Carlos. I can’t believe I’m saying shit like this, but it’s what’s going on in me.”
“Thanks, Chulito.” The smile on Carlos’ face made Chulito realize how much he liked that Chulito expressed his feelings.
Chulito liked where they were heading together. “What else you Whaightlike about me?”
“Everything.”
“Like what? Because I be thinking about you and me a lot. And not, like, us just right now, I think about, like, later and shit. You know. The future?”
Carlos nodded and sipped his Diet Pepsi.
“And you got your shit together and I, well, you got me thinking about what I’m doing, like I ain’t finish high school, and my job is, let’s just say, not legit. And I know you got fellas up at school, educated and shit, sweatin’ you, so—” Chulito didn’t know where this was coming from. When he got ready to meet Carlos, he was just excited to be seeing him, especially since he freaked out after being caught on the roof.
“Chulito, you want to sit a moment.” Carlos sat on bench along the West Side Highway. Chulito stood next to the bench, put one foot on it and leaned against his knee.
“I’m sorry, Carlos, I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Chulito, I love being with you because we’re from the same place. I get you and you get me. I’ll admit, I hate Hunts Point sometimes. Well, a lot, but that neighborhood and those people are a part of me, too. And you and my mom are reasons why I love the neighborhood.” Carlos played with the laces on Chulito’s sneaker. “And it feels good to know you got my back.”
Chulito smiled. “No doubt.” Then he checked out his surroundings before kissing Carlos’ forehead.
Carlos smiled. “And some guys up at school don’t get me, or they think they do. They hear I’m from the Bronx, from the South Bronx, and expect one thing. But look at us, we’re both South Bronx, different in a lot of ways and the same in others.”
Chulito admired how Carlos knew how to make sense of things. The fellas on the corner did a lot of talking but it very often made no sense to Chulito. They could spend hours passionately talking about Derek Jeter or the Shaq, but what did that really matter in the grand scheme of their lives? But the fellas were far away and he was here with Carlos. Chulito sat next to him, took a deep breath and when he exhaled he put his arm around Carlos. The cars whizzed by and Chulito wondered if someone he knew might drive by.
Chulito: A Novel Page 17