WHAT HAPPENED?! PART 2
So, this is a continuation of my last blog where I come up to visit Esperanza at the Tijeras de Oro - and she just looks ‘out of it’. I don’t know why, and it really pains me…I’m thinking this might be the next chapter in a budding romance! I had even gone out and bought her a pair of earrings at Malins - the local department store.
Esperanza?!”
I cringe at how awkward I must sound. She checks me out again, for a second or two.
“You look nice, papi…I like your shirt.” Thank God, at least she notices my black clothes, even in her disengaged state. She lets out a slight giggle, and points to the hoop earring she had given me, I had just put it in my ear before I entered.
“Oh... yeah! I-I been wearing it… uh – everyday.”
She smiles a little, then crinkles her nose. Oh man, that was so cute – so sexy the way she did that. It was the same way Elizabeth Montgomery did it on Bewitched! Especially when she donned that black wig and played her free-spirited cousin, Sarina. And I had been in love with Elizabeth Montgomery, since I was, like, nine years old.
Um...sorry… I uh, haven’t been able to come up - y’know, for a while – but…”
Another slight giggle emerges from her mouth, as she shakes her head a bit.
Uh-oh. What does that mean? Why did she shake her head like that? Did I say something stupid? Shit! My face burns crimson.
“I-uh- um…I just wanted to thank you for that haircut you gave me! It was - um…great!”
I hand her the little box with the earrings in it from my pocket. She seems puzzled as she opens the box.
“Oh, baby, they are so cute… tu eres tan dulce- aye- you so sweet.”
She holds them up next to her ears as she peers at her image in the mirror.
“Mira - Lydia.”
She shows the lady working the chair next to her. They both look at me and smile.
“Gracias, papi.”
I allow a touch of pride to creep in among all the angst I am feeling. Have I scored a small victory? The lady whose hair she’s cutting, smiles and clears her throat.
“Oh, permiso mami! Mira, listen papi, why don’t you go sit down for a while, till I can take my cigarette break, ok?”
I obediently take a chair and wait. And wait. She’s backed up. I guess Saturday isn’t a good time to visit. She’s real popular. Ladies come in especially for her, young and old. Every time I think I might get a second to talk to her, another lady plops in the chair. And they’d be off into that rapid-fire Spanish dialogue again. Damn. I remember that kiss from the last time I was here, and I want to experience that again. Who knows? Maybe even more? Occasionally, she glances over and gives me a little smile, and my frustration is temporarily quelled again, or my heart fills up with hope, but then she goes back to cutting and yapping again.
I occupy myself observing the crazy ebb and flow of the almost musical conversation that abounds between the ladies in the salon. Both the hairstylists and the customers. I can’t really understand anything that’s going on, but once in a while they slip a couple of English words like, “Louie? Her husband? Con esa puta?” Then they roar back into Spanish. From the rhythm of it, it sounds like one of the husbands had cheated on somebody with a kind of whorish woman (puta sounded like the Italian word for slut -putan). Then there’s a whole lot of that clucking of tongues, and gasps, and a repeated mantra of “Dios Mio!”
It is so lively. It seems to me like they are all a part of their own little village or tribe, where everybody all knows each other, and they all share openly. It appears to me that every day is like a party for Puerto Rican people.
WHAT HAPPENED?!
With all of the shit that had been going on in school and everything, I suddenly realize I haven’t seen Esperanza in, like, two weeks! So, I wake up early the next Saturday, put on my best black clothes and head off for Tijeras de Oro!
Will it be, like, a hero’s welcome?! Will she jump into my arms, and kiss me madly?! Will she be pissed off that I haven’t come up sooner?! Or maybe, she’s just completely forgotten all about me, like I’m just some kind of dumb kid she’s been playing around with?! Who knows? All I do know is that I have to see her, and find out for myself.
When I get off the bus on Broad Street, I hesitate for a while before walking to the shop. Why does all this stuff have to be so damn hard? So scary? It’s not fair. Feeling sorry for myself, and jittery with nerves, I linger outside the front window for a minute, hoping the farting and burping that’s plaguing me will cease. My thoughts fade into an unconscious stupor though, as I lose myself in the pulsating rhythm of the flashing lights lining the awning and window.
Ah, there she is. Right there in the front, cutting some lady’s hair. My spirits instantly ascend and a dab of courage flushes through me as I gaze at her from outside. Even though she has her back to me, I would recognize that flawless butt, clad in extra tight leopard skin pants (if you want to call them that), anywhere! I stand there, worshipping it from afar, as a hot flame zigzags through my chest. MAN!
I creep in tentatively and park myself next to her, waiting for her to turn around. The place is packed, the Spanish music blaring even louder, and the activity more manic than I’ve ever seen it before. I guess because it’s Saturday. It fills me with a kind of good feeling, though. A happy feeling, as I wait for her to move in my direction. Everything, my whole life, is riding on her reaction now.
What happens in that next second is one of the spookiest scenes I have ever witnessed. She turns around - and just looks right through me! Her eyes seem to almost – disconnect - like they were in another dimension. Weirdly enough, it reminds me of that same eerie look that Na-Na Johnson displayed in his eyes. Goosebumps run all up and down my neck and back. She seems totally physically changed, somehow. I know immediately that something is radically wrong. I don’t know exactly what, or at least, I couldn’t or wouldn’t, admit it to myself. A combination of sadness and anger racks through me. I become confused. She’s still beautiful as hell, she can’t help that, but her whole attitude, the electricity, is missing.
She stares at me detachedly for a few seconds like she’s reaching for a memory… then her pink lips turn up quizzically, into a sort of sad smile.
“Hi - papi…” she says slowly.
“Hey! Um… how’s it-uh-going, Esperanza?!”
CUMBERLAND FARMS EDUCATION
So, after Na-Na Johnson saves me from certain death at the hands of the notorious David White and The Orange Face brothers, perceiving me as being “strong” because of my mustache, he leaves me with the comment that he wants to know all about it. Uh-oh! What am I gonna do now?! I know nothing about this stuff! I don’t know the first thing! What will I tell him when he asks me?!
An epiphany. Cumberland Farms sells Playboy - and Penthouse Forum magazines, too! They’re there in the back corner of the store, right above the Monster Truck and Soldier of Fortune magazines. Yes! Hassan used to let me look at them when there was nobody in the store. Jim Whitford is a real dick about it though, as usual. He never even lets you get near them. Says you have to be eighteen to look at them. That’s the law. Fucking Dudley Doright. I’ll get him, though. I’ll find a way. I’ll enlist Skinny’s help. He’ll enjoy that. We’ve hardly been up there at all lately, ever since we had started the ‘healthy’ stealing at the A&P a while back. When we walk in, Jim Whitford is not happy to see us again, a pained expression rushes to his face.
This time the store is empty though, and with no customers distracting him, he folds his arms and zeroes in on us, observing our every move. We head to the magazine section and start perusing. Sports Illustrated and The Sporting News is what we’re looking at now, but our focus is on the Playboys and Penthouse issues. This time though, time he stands right over us. Damn. This is going to be a bit more difficult.
“Are you boys going to buy something - or just stand here and read? This is not study hall, you know.”
“No, I-I think we’re going to buy this Sports Illustrated magazine, right, Skinny?”
“Yeah, Sparky Lyle is on the cover.”
We are just biding our time, trying to stall, hoping some customer would come in to distract his attention. As the minutes tick away though, our morale begins to flag. Just as it appears that all hope is lost, roly-poly Mrs. Acker tramps in, being pulled by her little hot dog, Fritz, who is yapping loudly and incessantly. Saved! This is perfect. She always comes in with a laundry list of maladies and ailments, and would pester you for hours with insane medical questions. As if somebody who works at Cumberland Farms would know the answers.
Jim Whitford has to stand there and be polite, answering her insistent questions. Like, which worked better - Pepto Bismo, or Phillips Milk of Magnesia? He is fucked. He knows it, too. You could see him start to sweat as he tries to keep one eye on us - and answer all her rambling questions, too. Needless to say, it can’t be done. The second he turns away, we each slip a small Penthouse Forum under our jackets, Skinny slipping his in easily, me fumbling with it for a few seconds, before finally sealing the deal.
“Oh, Mr. Whitford, we’ve decided not to purchase anything tonight. Goodnight!”
He grimaces. As we stroll into the parking lot, Skinny and I congratulate each other. Whitford destroyed again! Yesss!
That night, I stay up till like 5 o’clock in the morning, absorbing every detail of what I read in that magazine. The letters in this Penthouse Forum are amazing. I had seen tons of pictures before, especially since we scored all those Penthouse mags in the junk that time. I have never scoured the articles with such studiousness, though, as I do in this session. I can’t believe the stuff I am reading! Apparently, I am one of the few guys in America who had not been seduced by their babysitters, when they were 12 years old. Obviously, I’m missing out on a whole secret world here. Pangs of jealousy and remorse pound my core. I have been severely deprived my whole life. This whole phenomenon is called - Menage-a-trois. Apparently, women of all ages (babysitters included) are just dying to do this. I had heard the word before, but for some reason, had always thought it was a French word that had something to do with lemon meringue pie, or something. I learn all about it… what an education I am getting from these Forum articles and letters! By the end of the night, I have convinced even myself that I have actually performed these acts. I am ready for anything Na-Na would ask me now, and I feel a lot more confident about seeing Esperanza again.
Thank God for my mustache!
So, in the last episode, Na-Na Johnson saved me from certain death at the hands of David White and the Orange Face brothers - because I had a mustache….and I stumbled upon, quite by accident, a particular black male myth.
I’m pretty sure they thought it was a particularly ‘white’ thing. Some kind of crazy white phenomenon. Maybe that’s why Na-Na seemed so fascinated by it. Because they never did it. He was so impressed. I’m still intrigued, though, as to where he received this information about facial hair somehow being a result of it, and how exactly it made you strong. Again, thank God for my Sicilian heritage - we always got hairy faster. Actually, it was quite a prestigious honor that Na-Na even thought that about me. I had achieved such a lofty position. I mean, it was a pretty big deal - nobody I knew had ever done it, even though a couple of them lied about it.
In truth, I had barely even kissed a girl yet. Esperanza’s kiss was practically my first one. I didn’t even know what a vagina really looked like. I mean, I did, but not up close and personal, you know?
I need to find out about this stuff, somehow. But who could I talk to about it? Where could I go? Who could I ask? Certainly not my father. Rule that out right now. Skinny and Ricky know even less about it than I do. I’m sure Na-Na would soon…maybe even tomorrow, be pumping me for more details, so I have to know something about it. Especially if I want Esperanza to think I’m anything more than just a dorky kid. No, this is important.
An epiphany. Cumberland Farms sells Playboy - and Penthouse Forum magazines, too! They’re there in the back corner of the store, right above the Monster Truck and Soldier of Fortune magazines.