Across the road from the brilliant white sand and sparkling blue ocean of Acapulco Beach was an antique shop full of weird and wonderful things, including its eccentric owner, Don Juan, who was always smoking his favorite pipe. Don Juan had known me since I was born. He was our next door neighbor, and a kinda surrogate father 'cause he wasn't married, and had no children of his own. I never knew my real father.
One
afternoon after school, as usual, I was in Don Juan's shop playing chess
with him. It had become a tradition. Tadeo, his white German Shepherd,
was curled up on the floor, occasionally cocking an eyebrow, and opening
one eye to see what we were doing. Then he would close his eye again, as
if to say that humans were crazy.
"When is your mother coming back from the States?"
"Aunt Sara says she's got a good job there."
"She's not coming back?"
"I don't think so."
"Who will look after you?"
"Aunt Sara. Hey! You took my bishop!"
"You should pay more attention."
"Do you think mom thinks I'm weird or something?"
"Why would she think that?"
"She found some of my drawings. It was a long time ago... when I was about nine. But it was very embarrassing for me."
"Oh?"
"I don't think mom really understands boys. Not that aunt Sara does, either. She's also a single woman."
"What were the drawings about?"
"Boy stuff. Y'know. You were a boy once."
"Hey! What happened to my rook?"
"You should pay more attention, Don Juan," I grinned.
"So I gather you drew pictures of girls?"
"No... they were pictures of me... doing stuff... to myself."
"Oh, I see. But at nine?"
"Didn't you?"
"I can't remember," he chuckled. "But I certainly never drew pictures like that of myself. And even if I had, I would never have left them where my mother could find them."
"Do you think that's why mom's not coming back from the States?"
"I've never understood women."
"Is that why you never married?"
"Probably."
"Anyway, I'm glad you never married. Tadeo and you are my family."
"Check mate."
"Oh, noooo!"
Another of my favorite pastimes was taking Tadeo for walks along the beach, especially during summer when Acapulco's population would almost double in size 'cause of the tourists, who were mostly rich Americans. I would often see them talking to local boys, and wondered why. Were they asking directions to somewhere? I didn't think so.
"Gabriel! Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Sorry, aunt Sara." I said sheepishly as I sat down to breakfast. "I was trying to tie my tie correctly."
"It should take two minutes! Not twenty! Eat your breakfast quickly, or you'll be late for school!"
Mondays
had always been the same. It would take me forever to wake up, and even
longer to get the knot in my tie to sit correctly in the center of my collar.
I would gulp down my breakfast, then hurry out the front door with my aunt
in hot pursuit, brandishing a feather duster, which had often connected
painfully with my ass. And for some reason, our next door neighbors Don
Juan and Tadeo would always be waiting outside to smile at my embarrassment
as I sprinted to the bus stop.
It was the beginning of my first year of high school. Our uniform was all white... white shirt, white pants, white socks, white teeth, white whatever. Only our sandals were a different color. On Mondays, though, we wore a blue tie and a blue jacket for the flag-raising ceremony.
Living with a strict, catholic, single woman meant that I was sent to an equally strict catholic school. Rule number one: prayers at 8am. Rule number two: inspection of ears, fingernails, and knees for the slightest trace of dirt. There was also a rule number three, about inspecting things other than ears, fingernails, and knees, but I didn't discover that until some time later.
A white uniform of a short-sleeved shirt, and shorts, was appropriate for a tropical area like Acapulco, but it was almost impossible to keep clean, especially for energetic teens who had a keen eye for mischief. The other disadvantage was that we were always recognized as high school students, so getting into mischief while in uniform was a certain invitation to the Padre's office, and a tanned hide.
"Do you work on a ship?"
I looked at the man sitting next to me on the bus, and recognized his American accent right away. He was obviously a tourist. "No, sir."
"You look like a marine in that uniform."
"I would love to be a marine on a Mexican ship, sir! I wish my school uniform included a white hat, or something like that. But I have to carry this stupid bag with all my books."
"You have very strong legs," he observed as he ran his hand along my thigh. "Do you mind if I feel your butt?" I wasn't sure quite what to say, so I allowed him to slide his flat hand inside my underwear. "Yes, you have very strong muscles, just like a young marine who works on a ship."
"Thank you, sir."
Following
the raising of the Mexican flag, the morning prayers, and the endless inspections
of fingernails, etc, I couldn't help noticing the boy who was next in line
as we entered our first class. His hair was layered with straw-colored
streaks burnt by the hot, tropical sun, his skin was golden, and his eyes
were intensely green, like living emeralds. We smiled at each other, and
I just knew in my fast-beating heart that we would become friends. It was
like love at first sight, so we eagerly chose to sit on adjacent benches.
"I'm Gabriel."
"I'm Pepe."
"I've never seen you around town before."
"I'm from Veracruz. We've just moved to Acapulco."
During recess, Pepe and I arranged to play on the same soccer team. Soccer was the other 'religion' in Mexico, and a game that everyone expected a boy to play... and play well.
By the end of that first day at school, I felt as if I'd known Pepe all my life. He was like the brother I'd never had, just as Don Juan was like the father I'd never had. I felt a warm glow inside, and a sense of great happiness. It seemed that every time Pepe and I would look at each other, we would be smiling. It was something we couldn't control. As soon as our eyes would meet, the corners of our mouths would curl upwards, and form a silly grin. A grin of joy.
"Do you think I look like a marine working on a ship?" I casually asked Don Juan as I moved my knight.
"Probably yes," he responded after a few sucks of his pipe, then took my knight with his rook. "Probably a very short marine... but a marine, nevertheless."
"How did you do that?"
"You should concentrate more on the chess board. Why do you want to look like a marine?"
"A tourist on the bus this morning said that I looked like a marine... and he didn't say anything about my being short."
"Are you going to stare at the board forever? It's your move, amigo."
"OK, OK. Anyway, I'm not too short. The American said I look like a young marine working on a ship... and that I have very strong legs. Many young guys work on ships, Don Juan."
"I haven't noticed any change in your legs. They are as always... a little thin, and not one trace of hair on them."
"That guy on the bus," I pouted with a hint of anger in my voice, "he felt my legs, and he said that I have very strong legs! And he felt my butt, and he said that I have a very strong rear just like the guys who work on the ships!"
Don Juan was holding his bishop in mid air, poised to position it, when he sensed that I was disappointed with his lack of empathy. He raised his kind, wise, old eyes and looked at me. "What else did the tourist touch?"
"He just touched my legs, and my rear inside my underwear... and he said that I have very strong muscles."
"And that was it?"
"Yeah."
Don Juan laughed as he placed his bishop on a vacant square, then rose from his chair before walking to a corner of the shop. "Here," he smiled as he returned. "You can have this."
"A white marine hat! Awesome! Oh, wow! Is it really mine? To keep?"
"Yes, Gabriel. It's yours to keep."
"Wow! Thank you, Don Juan! Oh, this is so wonderful! Now I can look like a hero!"
Tadeo couldn't understand what all the excitement was about, but summoned the energy to raise his head from his paws for a moment to give me a quizzical expression.
"How do I look, Tadeo? Like a marine?"
At ten minutes to seven, I had to leave the store to be home before my aunt panicked. She was the type to freak about the slightest thing, even though she was happy for me to be in Don Juan's company. She would often send me next door to his house, or to his shop, if she had to go out somewhere.
"Thanks again for the hat, Don Juan. Hey! Look at me! It makes me look taller!"
"My pleasure."
"Tell me something before I go. Why did you laugh when you went to fetch the hat?"
"Just be careful... maybe some tourist in a bus will tell you that you look like a general."
Now what did he mean by that? I wondered as I walked home. But it didn't matter. I was still way too excited about my friend Pepe, and the thought of seeing him again the next day.
"How was your first day at school?" aunt Sara asked as I sat down to dinner of munitions soup. Pasta in the shape of munitions was the only pasta I liked. It was like playing a war game, but I got to eat it all.
"I met Pepe. He has green eyes. And his hair shines like the golden sun."
"Is he Mexican?"
"Yep... comes from Veracruz. So how come I've got brown eyes, and my hair is jet black?"
"Not quite jet black... there are little bits of brown."
"Where did we come from?"
"My great grandparents, and your mother's, of course, were Sefarditas - Jews, or their descendants - who lived in Spain and Portugal until their persecution and eventual expulsion from those countries."
"So why am I catholic?"
"And part American Indian? You have many different types of blood coursing through your young veins, Gabriel, like most people who live in Mexico."
"What was my father?"
"Your mother never talked about him."
"I wonder why Pepe's eyes are green."
"Does it matter?"
"Not really. I like him a lot. We became friends the first minute! And we're on the same soccer team!"
"Sounds like you and Pepe are good friends already."
"Yes, aunt Sara. And I am so very, very glad. I thought today that Pepe and I are like brothers... as though we have always known each other. It just happened from the first moment."
"He's a gift from Jesus."
"You really think so?"
"Of course. And hopefully Pepe is more spiritual than you are, and can teach you to behave better. Maybe my prayers have been answered... finally."
"Pepe is not a saint. He looks like a saint, but I know he isn't."
"Ah! You also have that deceptive look of innocence, Gabriel. But I know better than to believe those big, brown eyes of yours when you are pretending to be innocent. Jesus works in mysterious ways. If Pepe looked like a saint, you probably wouldn't have taken an interest in him. This is Jesus' way of putting you back on the straight and narrow path to heaven."
"I think you'll change your mind when you meet Pepe."
The rest of Gabby's story is continued in the member's area
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