Latin Days and Nights: Tales of Javier

By Oscar Manuel

Javier, a young gay in Guatemala, works during the night in a bakery. Each morning he takes a bus back to his crowded apartment he shares with family. This morning was no different, or so he thought. After boarding the bus, he spots an older man who stirs his heart in ways he never felt before. After making sure he bumps into him, Javier and Carlos begin a three-year relationship which takes them both to places they have never dreamed of or anticipated. As their relationship develops, both must discover who they are and what is important in their lives. As they experience things together, culture and circumstances provide Latino flavors to their sexual encounters and life’s challenges.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Mar 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483426723

Book preview

2015

THE EVENT

L iving in Guatemala City will make memories for anyone who shares its streets. I venture to say that most people would think of them as being a mixture of good events along with some not so great ones. The city has given me many experiences, some good and some not so great. One event, though, brought happiness, worries, sadness, tears, and a ride on the emotional roller coaster that will be with me always.

As is probably true for every great event, it does not start out that way. I believe most events start out pretty much the same- based in routine and the usual business of the day. At least for me, this is the way it started. Living in Guate means living in a tiny apartment with my sister, Griselda, her husband, and four children in a space barely big enough to hold two beds, a closet, and a chair. There was a small room for cooking and eating, but because rents are very high in the city, we all had to share the room. Places like this are filled with the poorest families who come from rural areas seeking a better life.

I work nights and return to the apartment to sleep. Another sunny summer day was turning hot as I walked to my sister’s apartment after my shift. Her children were there playing. There is no area outside for them to play. I needed to get my rest, but the heat and the noise made it hard for me to sleep. I woke up about every half hour. I sat up on my bed to see the kids playing and watched my sister washing clothes for other families as a way to make some money. I knew she worked hard, and I was lucky she made my dinners and cleaned my clothes, too. I watched for a moment and got up.

Dinner was cooking furiously on the stove. The smell of fresh chiles and corn tortillas filled the air of the apartment along with constant chatter that is a part of children. My sister came into the room and packed clean work clothes in my mochila, a backpack I took every night. Still holding my backpack, she went back to the kitchen with Miguelito, my youngest nephew, tottering behind her and blabbering the entire way. Enticed by the smells, Pati, my niece, jumped off my bed and pranced her way into the kitchen. I could see my sister busily wrapping tortillas.

Javier, do you want to eat something before you leave? my sister called from the kitchen where she was busy feeding Miguelito and Pati.

No, thanks, Sis, I said as I gave a kiss to Cariltos. I will see you tomorrow, and gave a kiss to Pati who was sitting on the floor eating.

Alright then, Javier. Please be careful and see you tomorrow, my sister answered between bites of tortilla she was sharing with her kids.

Our apartment was on top of a hill with a two-block walk down to the street. Leaving the apartment, I began the ritual trudge downhill to the bus stop to wait for the bus, which was not predictable. When I got to the corner, lots of people were standing, chatting, and waiting. Several claimed the bus wasn’t due for a half hour. I checked the time on my cell phone; it was almost four o’clock in the afternoon so I decided to wait a bit longer.

I saw the bus. Damn, it’s coming slower than cold honey dripping off toast. It stopped two blocks away, and we waited 5 minutes for it to finally arrive at our corner and halt with a squeal of brakes and a dramatic puff of smoke. Everybody jostled to get on. I walked up the three steps and placed three quetzals in the fare box. I spied one of the last open seats in the back. Weaving my way through legs, I got it, and I knew it was going to be a better day.

The bus driver gunned the engine making it groan to life. He randomly shifted the gears until he found one that worked and lurched the bus forward with a leap. People immediately followed the motion as if some giant hand was behind them pushing them in the same direction. I grabbed a handrail, resisted the lurch, and quickly swung my backside into the seat, safe for another moment. The bus meandered its way through many streets and finally slowed, coughed its smoke, and squealed its brakes at the San Carlos University station. I checked my cell phone and noted that it had taken almost an hour to cover a route, which during the normal time was half an hour. I decided to drop this bus and take another one. I leaped through the open door. Excuse me, Excuse me, I yelled while threading my way through hoards of students waiting for their buses in the crowded station. On the other side, a bus was getting ready to leave.

"Zona seis, Zona seis," a guy at the door was yelling to everybody letting them know he was ready to leave for Zone 6.

I briskly crossed the many loading platforms and jumped into the bus. It was crowded, but most usually are in Guate. At the start, I was standing in the middle of the bus, but as more and more people found their stops, the crowd thinned, and I moved back a little to take advantage of the extra space and empty seats.

Among the remaining group was a good-looking man with short, salt and pepper hair. My guess was that he was probably around forty-five years old. He was clean-shaven and wore a pressed shirt and tie. He was seated just a few rows up. He caught my attention because such handsome men are rarely on the bus; they are always in cars or cabs. I stood up again, put one hand on a seat to the left, and then the other hand on a seat to the right to pull myself slowly towards that great looking man. He was intently scanning Prensa Libre, the local paper of the city. He kept his portfolio on his legs, and appeared not to notice any of the people around him. I could not keep from staring at him. Wow, this is the most beautiful guy I have seen in long time, I thought as my breathing increased, my pulse started to race, and my mind began thinking some crazy ideas as I approached his seat.

Excuse me, whispered the woman seated next to the window. My handsome man raised his head and moved his legs to the side to give the woman space to step out from her seat. I took a step back also.

Do you want the seat? he asked me, nodding towards the empty space.

No, thank you. Turning to another person standing, I asked, Excuse me, do you want the seat?

Oh, thank you! the woman squealed with delight as she squeezed past his legs to take the seat.

I stepped back up and watched the man fold his paper and rest it on top of his portfolio. Slowly, I moved my body towards his shoulder and began rubbing myself against him. I knew he felt me because with each press of my body, he moved away a little bit. This did not stop me. My erection hardened, and with every movement of the bus, I made sure he could feel it nudging into him.

He folded his hands on top of his papers. I moved back, fearing he might kick my ass. Every movement of the bus encouraged me to place my hidden member up against him, but he did not react in ways I hoped for.

Then I noticed some movement. It was ever so slight at first, but it was happening. Little by little, I saw his arm move out from his left side and start to extend into the aisle, into the same space my erection had just occupied. I stared ahead and suddenly felt something against my pants. As I lowered my head, my eyes moved down to see his hand rubbing my pants. My nervous fears went away, and I pushed my hips harder against his hand.

At the corner, please, I yelled to the bus driver. The man raised his head and looked up at me. I looked invitingly into his eyes and stepped over to get off the bus. When the bus stopped, I jumped out even though it was a block early. My nerves were building, and I knew that walking the block would consume some of my pent up energy. It was dark. I had to walk fast as one never knew when there would be thieves lurking.

Hey, wait up, a man’s voice hailed from behind me. How are you? I heard him ask as I crossed the street. I started walking as fast as I could. Hey! the voice continued, Excuse me, and panting asked, What is your name? He had to run to catch up and was now beside me.

I am sorry, it was my fault! Please let me go! I explained apologetically and trembling in the darkness. My eyes darted around to see if someone would help me if something went wrong.

His voice was calming. I just want to know your know name, and he gently offered me his hand. When I looked into his eyes, I could not find any traces of anger.

My name is Javier, I replied as a smile crossed my face. What’s yours?

My name is Carlos, Carlos Montenegro. He walked beside me as I searched for some light on the street. Nice to meet you, he added pleasantly. How have you been doing?

I am doing well. I am just a little tired, because I did not get much sleep last night and now I have to go to work, I explained as we arrived at the corner across from a Catholic church. Lots of people were in the area, and I felt safe in the middle of a crowd.

Where do you work? he asked, looking around.

I pointed down the street. Two blocks that way.

I would like to talk to you a little more. Do you want a coffee? he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. Sure, why not?

HOT COFFEE

W e stopped at a coffee shop opposite the church. He put his hand on my shoulder as we went in. Opening the door for me, You know, you made me very horny on the bus, he said just loud enough for me to hear. It was small place, and there were three people in line in front of us. Once inside I could see he was smiling and very happy. What do you want to drink? he asked before we got to the counter. I didn’t know, so I fidgeted with my backpack. "I will order something good for you. It’s called la vaq uita ."

"What the hell is la vaquita?" I asked, the strange name making me laugh.

"La vaquita is made of several types of milk, and it is so sweet," he answered, winking at me.

While standing in line to order, he asked me what kind of work I did. I work in a commercial bakery. I looked down at my feet, trying to hide my embarrassment.

Are you baker?

No, not yet. I am just learning. Maybe someday, though.

Glancing around the shop, we found a small table. We made some noise moving chairs out as we seated ourselves. I could not keep my eyes off him. I was worried that he might catch me looking so intently at him.

What kind of job do you have?

I have a difficult job, he said in between sips of vaquita.

I don’t think it can be hard work, because you wear nice clothes.

I like what I do, but sometimes it gets crazy. I work with prisoners, he explained, and sometimes they are crazy, a small smile worked its way across his face. What time do you go in to work? He caught me checking the time.

I am going now. It is part of my job to prepare the flour. I got up from the table, and he got up, too. We both walked outside. The streets were quiet because it was getting late.

I want to walk with you to the bakery, he insisted. I pointed out that his bus would pass the corner by the church. He looked at me and scoffed, Let’s go, and he began pushing me in the direction to my work.

Are you attending school?

I told him I graduated high school.

No college?

I admitted I didn’t have the money to attend college and a red flush of embarrassment painted my checks. "You know that college is not cheap.

He nodded in agreement, but said somewhat sarcastically, Really!

We were now very close to my work. Not wanting to waste more time, I got directly to the point. What are you hoping to find? I asked.

I am looking for a good friend. You are a great looking kid and look like a good possibility to me, he said innocently.

Am I a nice looking kid? So, you like kids, huh? I asked, brushing my hand across the front of his pants. I watched the outline of his penis growing longer inside his trousers. Why did you get off the bus?

‘’Look, I know what are you trying to do, but this is not for me. He waited for a moment to let the thought sink in then gently added, I want to be your friend."

Wow! You have a nice bulge, I said, fondling him through his pants. I could hear his breathing picking up.

Do you want to go somewhere? he asked while moving towards a darker place in the middle of the block.

You said it is not for you? How can you have this fine erection, but not want to do anything? I asked him wryly and with a devil’s smile.

You’ve made me hard, a sheepish grin filling his face.

We arrived at the bakery. I told him good-bye and watched him go towards his bus stop. I wondered if I would ever see him again. I met older guys before, but it was only for an hour or so during a night. They always promised to be friends, but I never saw any of them again. Men in Guatemala look for younger guys for sex, but not for relationships. As they finish with one each night, they find another. This has been my experience, and I did not expect to see him again.

Javier, do you have a phone number? he yelled back.

Why, yes I do. Do you want it? I answered, startled. I walked quickly back to him.

Yes, I want to call you someday. He put his portfolio on the ground, and took out a paper and pen to write down my number. As he wrote down the numbers, I could tell he would never call me.

I asked him for his number. He explained that he rarely gave out his home number because his wife would answer the phone. She would get mad if she didn’t know who was calling. When you call, tell her you are a friend from work, he continued as he scribbled numbers. OK, give me a call someday. Bye for now. We shook hands, and he was off to meet the bus.

I crossed the street, and walked the last block to my job. I arrived early and started preparing the flour for the night’s baking. This night my heart was happy, my eyes brighter, and my life better. My friends did not understand why I was working as never before.

TELEPHONE CALLS

A week or so later, I found myself bored, looking for someone to talk to. I came across Carlos’s number but could not remember whose number it was. After thinking about it for some time, his face suddenly flashed in front of my eyes. Should I call him now? I figured he was not at home, but that didn’t stop me from thinking about him.

On my way to the bakery, I spotted a pay phone. I punched in the numbers and anxiously began pulling on the telephone cord, straightening it, and then letting it twist back again into a shape that mimicked my worries. Each ring passed like a century. At last, in mid ring someone said, Hello. I was immediately very nervous. Ahhh, excuse me, I stammered. Can I talk to Mister Montenegro?

Who are you? a young voice barked.

Please, I would like to talk with Mr. Montenegro. I am a friend of his, and we are doing a project at San Carlos University.

Mom, someone is looking for dad. It is a friend of his from the university, the young male voice yelled out.

Tell him it is a wrong number, a woman’s voice in the background lied.

After a muffled silent moment, The person you are looking does not live here.

Really? I heard you tell your mom that someone was looking for your dad. I do not understand, but thank you anyway. I will talk to him tomorrow and will ask for his number again.

Oh, my dad lives here, but my mom told me to say that, the boy volunteered.

Please tell him that Javier called, because we need to talk. He told me he would, and I placed the phone back in the arms of its hook. I looked at it for a moment and was envious because its two arms were filled while mine were not. This made me sad, and I wondered if Carlos really did not want to talk to me. After all, he never called after our coffee together. I trudged my way to work with a heavy heart that I also carried home.

Javier. Javier, get up! You have a phone call. My sister was yelling, trying to wake me from a midday nap.

What is going on? I blubbered sleepily.

I said you have a phone call. She immediately handed me my cell phone.

Hello, I said groggily.

Surprise! A masculine voice was laughing on the other end. How are you doing? You don’t remember me? I am Carlos.

His voice was not familiar to me, so I thought it was a wrong number. Who are you looking for?

It’s Carlos, the guy you met on the bus some time ago, he said, trying to explain who he was. Do you remember being on the bus one day, and you had a big erection? he asked, snickering.

I could not stop myself from laughing and sputtered, I have one every day!

I know because you are young, and I like that, the voice continued encouragingly.

My memory was working furiously to put together the pieces of this mystery. I asked if he was the man who worked for the government.

Yes, the soft voice said, I am the same old guy.

My heart jumped in my chest. It was Carlos! We talked for a few minutes, chatting about some of the things that happened during the last few months. While he was talking, I found myself dreaming and imaging all sorts of future possibilities, but something he said caught my attention and snapped me back to his voice on the line. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I asked him to say it again. Yes, I did understand. He was inviting me for dinner that evening!

I jumped from my bed and dashed to the kitchen to tell my sister that she didn’t need to cook for me. I sprinted back to the living room for my towel and quickly strode into the bathroom to take a shower. It was a four minute splash, entirely too long, and I ran back to the living room to get dressed. My sister stood in the kitchen, her mouth hanging open as she watched me dart back and forth.

Griselda, can you please come and help me? I asked, frantically looking for my good clothes.

She pushed me to one side and pulled out my good pants and dress shirt. I think you will look better with these, she suggested as she dangled both from her hands like ripe mangos hanging heavily from the limbs of their trees.

Are you going to meet a lady? she asked snoopily. She will fall in love with these clothes I gave you today, a smile growing on her face. She did not wait for an answer and left the room while I changed.

Walking into the kitchen where Griselda and her children were eating tortillas con sal, What do you think? I asked, showing off my outfit. They were not at all interested in my modeling. Fine, I said with a trace of hurt in my voice. I walked back to the living room and grabbed my bag pack. I flung the door open and swatted a couple of flies on my way out.

I was a block away from the bus stop and saw the bus waiting for people. My heart leaped, and I ran the rest of the way to try to catch it. I made it! Thanks be to God, I said to no one as I slipped into a seat and tossed my backpack into another.

In a perfect world, the bus would have swooshed its doors closed and made its way to the next stop, but this is not a perfect world. This is Guate! The bus sat there, the driver waiting for five minutes in hopes of getting more riders. Each passing second was a miniature bomb going off, blasting my patience into pieces. Taking my phone out, I saw that only fifteen minutes had passed since I talked to Carlos. For me, they were like fifteen eternities.

At last the door crankled its way across its broken hinge to close. The sharp wharrk, wharrrrrk, wharrk of gears grinding announced our leaving, and the puff of black gray smoke rolling over the top of the bus confirmed it. We made our way along the various streets and stops. Making a sharp turn, the bus heaved across a speed bump, and stopped with a lurch close to the university.

Leaping up from my seat and scooping up my backpack, I took a big step across the aisle and waited for the decrepit door to open. A sliver of light showed through the door’s steel rib and its leather skin- my signal to jump through. My backpack hung up just as my body got past the door, snatching me in mid air, but quickly releasing me when it cleared the door. I landed firmly on my feet on the corner of a large parking lot. Opposite was a gas station and across from it was a local restaurant. Students crowded the corner waiting to cross the footbridge over the highway to get to the university. I found a place in the group and started over the bridge when my cell phone startled me. Carlos was calling to let me know he was in the restaurant. In the middle of the bridge, a hand sharply clamped my shoulder. I turned to look right into the eyes of Carlos! He smiled and asked, Are you hungry? It was nearly two months since I heard from him, and here he was again. My face was afire, glowing with my happiness.

The restaurant was full of people, but we managed to find a table. His voice rose out of the din, You look pretty nice.

Oh, well, thanks! I responded a bit embarrassed. You look nice, too.

Thanks, he replied. He moved his necktie to loosen it. He looked at me. I watched as a little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Our waitress came by to take our order. Can you bring us two beers? he asked.

Sure, she said as she made her way back to the kitchen.

As we looked at the menu, Carlos leaned towards me. Have you been to this restaurant before?

No, it is only for rich people or smart people who come to the university, I explained as two cold beers arrived to our table.

Grabbing one, Cheers! he laughingly announced.

Cheers, and I laughed back.

The waitress was back at our table. We both ordered tacos de loroco, one of my favorites because my mother always made them with homemade corn tortillas and the flowers from the loroco she would buy fresh in the morning at the market. We sat looking at the two nearly finished beers. I watched as a type of sadness passed over his face. You don’t look right. What’s wrong with you, Carlos? I asked hesitantly. By this time, he had ordered another brew.

Our waitress returned with the second round and our tacos. As she slid the plates and bottles our way, Carlos continued. I just want to remember this time. Then he quietly said, I guess a part of it is that I missed you. He reached out for his beer.

Hearing those words jolted me. They were meant just for me, and my heart was ready to listen to more, but I was scared, too. My thoughts raced furiously and my hopes began to rise.

We munched on tacos and enjoyed our drinks. He ordered a third one, but I passed explaining that I had to be at work in a couple of hours. What time is it? I asked. He moved his hand to look at the time.

Nearly six. What time do you start to work?

Today is Friday, and I can be late.

I don’t want you to miss work today for me. Let’s get out here.

Oh, gosh, I feel drunk! I exclaimed as I stood up, swayed, and grabbed my backpack. Carlos laughed and claimed he did too. He paid the bill and led me out the restaurant door.

We wobbled our way down the street to a gas station, laughing, and talking. A man was selling gum, and Carlos bought a package. Carlos, I did not know you chewed gum.

I usually do not, but I know that I have been drinking just a little. Well, maybe more than a little, he laughed. I am worried that my wife will smell the beer on my breath, he explained. I don’t want to have problems with my family. Carlos turned to me. Do you want some? he asked as he tore off the cellophane.

Yes, thank you, and thank you for the dinner and beers, too, I said, taking a piece of gum from him but secretly wanting a different piece from him, too.

We sauntered down to the bus station. The bus arrived shortly after, and we plopped down on an empty seat in the back of