“What have you heard? What were you told?” Don Emilio took the reins from Fidel’s hands and led the wagon and mule back to what was left of the stable.
“Come, tell me, son. What is it that you heard that has made you so angry?”
Fidel felt himself an intruder and knew Don Emilio was restraining himself from saying much.
“Santi, I will leave now. This is not the place for me. Perhaps I should return to my mother. She will need my help.”
Don Emilio nodded in agreement.
“Fidel, take the horse. You have been on him before and he knows you. You may ride him back tomorrow.”
“No!” Santiago stepped between them. He had said the word with such force that all were surprised.
“No, I want Fidel to stay with me.”
Fidel came closer to him. “Be reasonable! He wants to talk to you. He can not do that with me here. I will return tomorrow.”
Santiago’s eyes flashed cold as stone. The set of his jaw told Fidel that he would not be moved and was close to eruption, so he thought it best to obey.
“Then stay,” Don Emilio said. “But give us some time alone.”
“I will go help the Señora.” He bowed and left.
Don Emilio approached his son and tried to lay a hand on his shoulder. The boy pulled away.
“Please, Santiago, come with me. Come…, let us talk together..., please?”
Santiago followed his father several paces behind as the man began to climb the foothills behind the house. The path was well worn and had been walked often by the two boys in recent months, as it led to the promontory that offered a spectacular view of the countryside. And it had become Santiago’s place to think.
They walked slowly for a long time. Reaching the crest of the hill, they saw the steeper hills of the Andes where the range began. Neither said a word. Santiago made sure to stay far enough behind his father that it would be an inconvenience should he want to speak. It was late afternoon and the sun had gone behind a bank of clouds so that the air was chilled. All around, they saw evidence of the quake. Trees were toppled and parts of the hillside had fallen to the valley, below. There were indentations in the ground where large boulders had once stood and had been dislodged. They followed the paths made by the boulders that had crashed downward, barely missing the Cali house, and saw that any of them could have plowed through the structure with little effort and have destroyed it.
Don Emilio reached the flat stone at the top, and sat. Santiago remembered he had been taken often by his father to this place, when he had been a small child. He remembered how his father had held him and bounced him on his knee and that his brother, Emilio, had been left at home. Don Emilio had wanted the time with his younger son to be a special event between them. He had wanted Santiago to feel that he was special for fear that the boy was not receiving the attention from his mother that she was giving her eldest son.
Santiago had relished these times. Once, they had come to this place and he had felt the premonition that it was to be their last and he had been correct. Don Emilio came to lose interest, and Santiago had not questioned why, knowing the reason had something to do with his mother’s steady deterioration. Now he turned to his father and confronted him with a sense of authority and justification and asked the question as though he had the absolute right to do so.
“Why did we stop coming to this place?”
Don Emilio was surprised by his son’s authority. The boy who stood before him now was taller and had command. Santiago seemed more his equal.
“Father, why was mother left alone? Tell me! Where were you when this happened?” Santiago waved his arms to take in all the surrounding destruction and he held Don Emilio with an accusing glare.
“Where were you when she needed your help?”
“Santiago, what I am about to tell you may not make much difference to you. You may not believe me and I won’t be offended if you ask others to see that what I say is true. I was in the village yesterday and I was in the cantina when the earthquake struck. But I was not drunk! I ran home as soon as I realized what was happening. I met Señora Celeste on the road. She had come to find me.
“Your mother was not left alone. The Señora was with her and she told me your mother refused to leave the house when the tremors started. Try as she might, Señora Celeste could not persuade her to leave. The Señora saved herself when she saw your mother was choosing to remain in the house so as not to survive.
“Santiago, I know all this does not make much sense. I know it does not excuse what happened. I suppose if I had been here, I could have prevented her from doing it. But Santiago, your mother was not killed because she was left alone or because I was drunk in some cantina, unable to help her. Son..., I loved her! I did not want anything to happen to her.”
Don Emelio looked deeply into his son’s eyes.
“I have known that you knew things were not good between us. Your mother has been unhappy for a long time. Believe me when I say that I have tried to make her happy. And for a while I succeeded..., or so it seemed. When you and Emilio were little boys she took great pride in each of you and she lived for you and through you. Your mother and I were wed when she was a very young girl. I did not know it, but she was unhappy even then. She had never wanted to leave her beloved Spain. She ached to return every day of her life, and each day was a burden.
“The death of your brother was one burden too many and it drove her inward so that she escaped to the memories of her girlhood. There, she could enjoy the carefree feelings she had come to miss. You suffered her loss of love, and I did not know how to speak of it to you. Each day that passed, your sadness was a pain in my heart. Then I saw that you were able to find someone who could give you affection. I was happy you found a friend in Fidel. Good friends are small in number, Santiago. Treasure this friendship for it is a good one. So, I saw that your needs were met and that I was unable to fill the void left by your mother’s withdrawal. Like her, I withdrew. My choice was the solace of the bottle. Santiago, I could not bear to see her the way she was and of what she had become!”
Don Emilio turned to stare at the distant hills. Santiago, seated on the other side of the rock, listened attentively. He heard the tremor in his father’s voice and he knew the man was in tears. He had seen his father cry only once before, at Emilio’s burial. He did not think he could stand to see his father cry again and hoped this mood would change. As he was about to stand and walk away, his father stepped down and came to him. Santiago felt a rage he could not hide and Don Emelio was its target. Nothing could remove the fact that his mother would still be alive if Don Emilio been with her.
Suddenly, like a wave, Santiago felt nausea sweep over him so that he doubled with the pain as cramps and the thought broke through like a storm and he felt the heaviness of the revelation. Florienda Cali would still be alive if he had not gone to Lima! Had he not gone with the primary intention of spending the time with Fidel? Had he not gone so that they could make love? Had they been in bed in each other’s arms at the very moment she had lost her life? Had she seen them?
Santiago’s guilt has been buried beneath rage for his father, who had been a convenient escape. All the way back from Lima the thought had been eating away at him, barely recognizable and he had shied away from it each time it had come too close. He had accused his father of the very sin of which he had been responsible.
Santiago turned to Don Emilio, unable to look directly at him and the echo of the words he had used to assail him sounded in his ears. Don Emilio approached and swept Santiago up into his arms and held him tightly until each could not let loose of the other.
“I love you, papa!”
“I love you, Santiago. So much of her is in your face! You are so much like her and it is why you have always been closer to me than your brother. I know that it was wrong for me to feel that way. Your mother recognized this and tried to compensate by showering Emelio with her attention to make up for the lack of mine. Ther
e was something about your brother that I could never understand and it was something I did not like.
“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.
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