Twenty-Two

ONE NIGHT, MY PARENTS WENT OUT TO SOME WEDDING dance. Mexicans. They loved wedding dances. They wanted to drag me out with them but I said no thanks. Watching my parents dance to Tex-Mex music was my idea of hell. I told them I was tired from flipping burgers all day and that I was just going to stay home and relax.

“Well, if you feel like going out, ” my dad said, “just leave a note.”

I had no plans.

I made myself comfortable and was about to make myself a quesadilla when Charlie Escobedo came knocking on my door and asked me, “’Sup? ”

And I said: “Not much. I’m making a quesadilla.”

And he said: “Cool.”

I was not about to ask him if he wanted me to make him one even if the guy looked hungry as hell. But that was his look. He had this hungry way about him. He was the skinny type. Always looked like a coyote in the middle of a drought. I knew about coyotes. I was way into coyotes. So we sort of looked at each other and I said: “You hungry? ” I couldn’t believe I said that.

And then he said: “Nah.” And then he said: “You ever shoot up? ”

And I said: “Nope.”

And he said: “You wanna? ”

And I said: “Nope.”

And he said: “You should try. It’s fantastic. You know we could score some and go out into the desert in your truck and, you know, get high. It’s sweet. So sweet, dude.”

And I said: “I’m really into chocolate.”

And he said: “What the fuck are you talking about? ”

And I said: “Sweet. You said sweet. I think I’ll get my sweet from chocolate.”

And then he got mad and called me a pinchi joto and all sorts of other names and he said he was gonna kick my ass all the way to the border. And who the fuck did I think I was, thinking that I was too good to shoot up or even smoke cigarettes and didn’t I know that nobody liked me because I thought of myself as Mr. Gabacho.

Mr. Gabacho.

I hated that. I was as Mexican as he was. And I was bigger than he was too. I wasn’t exactly afraid of the little son of a bitch. And I said, “Why don’t you get someone else to do drugs with you, vato? ” I figured the guy was lonely. But he didn’t have to be an asshole about it.

And he said, “You’re gay, vato, you know that? ”

What the hell was the guy talking about? I was gay because I didn’t want to shoot up heroin?

And then I said: “Yeah, I’m gay and I want to kiss you.”

And then he got this really disgusted look on his face and said: “I ought to kick your ass.”

And I said: “Go ahead.”

Then he just flipped me off and, and well, he just took off—which was okay with me. I mean, I sort of liked the guy before he got into all this mood-altering substance abuse thing and to tell myself the truth, I was really curious about the heroin thing, but, you know, I just wasn’t ready.

A guy has to be ready for important things. That’s how I saw it.

I got to thinking about Dante and how he’d had a few beers and I thought about the couple of beers I’d had with Gina and Susie and I wondered what it would be like to get drunk. I mean really drunk. I wondered if it felt good. I mean, Dante had even tried pot. I got to thinking about my brother again. Maybe he got into drugs. Maybe that’s why he was in the slammer.

I think I really loved him when I was a little boy. I think I really did. Maybe that’s why I felt sad and empty—because I’d missed him all my life.

I don’t know why I did what I did. But I did it. I went out and found an old drunk loitering around the Circle K in Sunset Heights, begging for money. He looked like hell and smelled even worse. But it’s not like I was interested in being his friend. I asked him to buy me a six-pack. I told him I’d buy him a six-pack too. He was game. I parked my truck around the corner. When he came out and handed me my six-pack, he smiled at me and said, “How old are you? ”

“Sixteen, ” I said. “You? ”

“Me. I’m forty-five.” He looked a lot older. I mean the guy looked as old as dirt. And then I felt bad—for using the guy. But he was using me too. So that was the math on that one.

At first I started to drive out into the desert to drink my six-pack. But then I thought that maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. I kept hearing my mom’s voice in my head and it really pissed me off that her voice was there. So I just decided to go home. I knew my parents wouldn’t be home for a long time. I had all night to drink my beer.

I parked my truck in the driveway and just sat there. Drinking my beer. I let Legs in the truck with me and she tried to lick my beer can so I had to tell her that beer wasn’t good for dogs. Probably, beer wasn’t good for boys either. But, you know, I was experimenting. You know, discovering the secrets of the universe. Not that I thought I’d find the secrets of the universe in a Budweiser.

I got this idea into my head that if I chugged the first two or three beers then maybe I’d get a good buzz. And that’s exactly what I did. And it worked. It felt kind of nice, you know.

I got to thinking about things.

My brother.

Dante.

My dad’s bad dreams.

Ileana.

After chugging three beers I wasn’t feeling any pain. Sort of like morphine. But different. And then, I opened up another beer. Legs put her head on my lap and we just sat there. “I love you, Legs.” It was true. I loved that dog. And life didn’t seem so bad, me sitting there in my truck with my dog and a beer.

There were a lot of guys in the world that would have killed to have what I had. So why wasn’t I more grateful? Because I was an ingrate, that’s why. That’s what Gina Navarro said about me. She was a smart girl. She wasn’t wrong about me.

I had my window rolled down and I felt the cold. The weather had changed and winter was coming. Summer hadn’t brought me what I wanted. I didn’t think winter would do me any better. Why did the seasons exist anyway? The cycle of life. Winter, spring, summer, fall. And then it began again.

What do you want, Ari? That’s what I kept asking myself. Maybe it was the beer. What do you want, Ari?

And then I answered myself: “A life.”

“What’s a life, Ari? ”

“Like I know the answer to that? ”

“Deep inside you know, Ari.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Shut up, Ari.” So I did shut up. And then the thought entered my head that I’d like to kiss someone. It didn’t matter who. Anyone. Ileana.

When I finished all my beers, I stumbled into bed.

I didn’t dream anything that night. Nothing at all.