Sal was up at the buttcrack of dawn, pulling me out of bed, hustling me into the shower, and pushing me to hurry and eat a toaster pastry. I stood beside my car, sipping his tasty coffee, smiling at him insisting on being the only one who could pack the car properly. When he jogged out with a water pistol big enough to down a rogue rhinoceros, I arched an eyebrow at him.
“Trust me, it will be needed.”
“I totally trust you,” I replied with a smile.
He yanked my coffee cup from my hand. “My family is looking forward to meeting you. I might have been bragging about my hot new boyfriend.” He pressed a tender kiss to my neck.
“I like being called that.” I pushed my nose into his sideburn and breathed in happy and calm. How was it possible for one human being to bring such serenity to another?
Ten minutes later, we were on the road to Elmira, New York. It was a short trip—just a little over ninety minutes. Sal wheedled me into letting him drive my Mustang. You know you adore a dude when you let him get behind the wheel of your most prized possession.
The Castenada family lived in a nice middle- to upper-class section of Elmira in a white two story house with a decent-sized yard. The house was big and painted eggshell white with blue shutters. As we pulled our bags and stuff out of the trunk, a low-flying plane moved overhead.
“There’s an airport close by,” Sal explained, then slammed the trunk closed.
Hand shielding my eyes, I watched the jet gain altitude until the arrival of Sal’s sisters pulled my attention from the sky. Two pretty girls in jeans and light jackets bounced around the side of the house. One had long hair and the other short. That was the only physical difference I could spot in the sixteen-year-old twins. They smiled sweetly, pulled out a couple of massive squirt guns from behind their backs, and opened fire.
Sal ducked behind me with a shout. I stood in the driveway and took the blast full force. The girls lowered their guns and began apologizing. Sal peeked over my damp shoulder. Water dripped off my lashes and nose.
“Sorry,” Sal said over my shoulder. “My sisters have no manners.” He sounded angry. I thought it was kind of funny, although meeting his parents in a soaking wet shirt hadn’t been on my agenda at all. “You two should be ashamed.” The girls dropped their heads. “For letting me get the upper hand.”
That RPG-sized water cannon came to rest on my shoulder. Sal soaked the girls before they could react with another barrage. The war was over when all the water in all the weaponry was gone. The four of us were standing in the Castenada front yard, soaked to the skin, laughing, when a large white SUV bearing magnetic signs on the doors that read “Castenada Cleaning” pulled in and parked beside my Mustang.
“Shit,” mumbled Valeria, the twin with the short hair. Victoria, the twin with the long black hair, threw her gun at my feet as her parents exited their vehicle. Mr Castenada was a tall, whip-thin man with graying ebony hair and a warm smile just like his son’s. Mrs Castenada was small, kind of round, and rolling her eyes to the crystal-blue sky.
“This is how you greet your brother’s new boyfriend?” Mrs Castenada chided her daughters.
“It’s okay, really,” I said as water trickled down my neck. “Sal warned me about the traditional greeting. I’m fine with being wet. It was fun.”
Mrs Castenada clicked her tongue, then tried to dry my face with a tissue. Her kids were all talking at once.
“This is not working,” she huffed, then tried to pluck tiny bits of wet tissue from my new whiskers. “My children know better behavior. Come inside and get into dry clothes.”
“Pleasure to meet you, August. Sal has talked about nothing else since he met you.” Mr. Castenada offered me his hand, and I quickly took it. Both of Sal’s parents had strong Spanish accents.
Mrs Castenada hustled us four wet ones into the house, then sent Sal and me to the laundry room to change while the twins were told to go upstairs but not drip on the new carpeting.
“Your family seems nice,” I told Sal as we peeled off our sodden clothes. “Watery, but nice.”
He chuckled, then reached out to caress my upper arm. I enjoyed how warm my skin grew under his palm.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Sure,” I readily agreed, then leaned in. His mouth was warm, sensual, and held a trace of the orange soda he’d drunk on the trip. Sal’s hand stayed on my biceps as we tasted each other. A shiver ran over me. He pulled back and opened his eyes.
“You okay?” he asked. I nodded, then glanced down at my wet underwear hanging off me unflatteringly. Goosebumps were sprouting up all over.
“Yeah, I’m okay but cold.”
“If I had a few more minutes, I could probably warm you up.” He winked, which made me laugh and blush.
“I’m tempted to see if you can or not,” I whispered. Desire flamed up in his eyes. Then Mrs Castenada shouted for us from somewhere in the house.
“Right, well, let’s get our asses into dry clothes.”
That sounded good. We hurried and dressed, and then Sal tossed our wet stuff into the dryer. I got a quick tour of the big house. There were four bedrooms and three baths, one just for Sal and me. His bedroom was large and airy with a huge bed, all kinds of funky pictures, and a flat-screen TV on the wall. We dropped our bags, then hurried downstairs. Sal and I were instructed to set the table for dinner, which would be ready shortly, according to Mrs. Castenada. The twins were doing homework, and Sal hustled into the kitchen to help his mother after we had the dishes and silverware placed on the big, dark table.
I stood like a lost sheep in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room.
Sal looked at me while tying an apron around his waist. “You want to help make some sloppy joes or toss a salad?” he asked.
His mother glanced at me dawdling in the doorway. She waved me in with a spoon. I inched into the shiny kitchen, feeling big and awkward while Sal and his mother moved around with familiar grace. The corner was looking good, but Sal, probably seeing me eying a place to hide, steered me to the stove with a couple of bumps of his hip.
“I would have made a better meal, but the business is good and busy,” Mrs. Castenada said while peppering the holy heck out of the browning ground beef in the skillet. “Sal tells me you like things hot, but I think a boy from Canada would not like hot things aside from my son.” She gave her son a playful wink. He danced around me, kissed his mother, then pulled me gently to a huge island to help construct a bowl of salad. “Tomorrow I make you something good. You need food—both of you are too skinny.”
Sal handed me a head of lettuce. “Welcome to Casa Castenada, where no matter how fat you are, you’re always too skinny.”
His mother replied in Spanish and with a slap of her spoon to Sal’s denim-covered backside.
“You’re not fat at all,” I told him as I ripped lettuce and tossed it into a big glass bowl. Sal was expertly slicing radishes and carrots. “I think you’re just right.”
He leaned over to put his lips to mine. Mrs. Castenada hugged us both from behind, then went back to stirring what smelled like a lot of chili powder into the meat. My nose tickled, there was so much chili powder in the air.
That was how things went until we put the food on the table. I sat down next to Sal. The twins sat across from us, and the two adults on either end. Everyone bowed their heads. Mr. Castenada said grace. I peeked at the people at the table while they prayed. I liked being here, at the table, with these people. After the blessing the entire family talked at once. Food was passed around, buns and salad, chips and olives for a side, milk was poured, and still everyone talked. Well, everyone but me. I just sat there, munching on a sloppy joe that was so zippy and so good my eyes watered slightly, listening to what a big family sounded like.
“August, do you not care for the sandwich?”
My daydream shattered and I quickly looked from the pretty curtains on the wide windows to Sal’s father.
“It’s delicious,” I said as heat climbed up my neck. “I’m just… I come from a small family. Dinner was a lot quieter.”
“Yeah, these two don’t know how to sit quietly and eat like ladies,” Sal teased.
A radish slice flew across the table and hit Sal in the middle of the forehead. Victoria laughed and flipped her hair over her shoulder triumphantly. Mrs. Castenada scolded her son and daughter and made me another sloppy joe to eat. I tried to politely refuse, but the sandwich ended up on my plate anyway.
“No point in trying to fight it,” Sal told me. “Just unbutton the top button of your pants and enjoy, Aug.”
So I did.
As night moved in, I found myself being pulled into the Castenada family routine. The twins loaded dishes into the dishwasher, Sal swept the floor, and I wiped off the dining room table and the counters. When the kitchen was spotless, we all went into the sunken living room to watch a movie. Seemed the whole Castenada clan love to be scared, so they picked The Grudge to watch. I’d never seen it before. I’m not big on horror flicks. They make me uneasy, I’ll freely admit that. I read a Stephen King book about vampires back when I was a kid and couldn’t sleep for weeks. But I sat through it, trying to look cool but feeling like ants were crawling up my legs. Then this creepy ghost girl appeared in a bathroom mirror. I couldn’t get off the sofa fast enough. My legs got tangled with Sal’s, our bowl of popcorn flying to the floor. Everyone who wasn’t hiding behind their hands laughed. Which meant Sal and his father. Cleaning up my mess kept my red face hidden from the others.
“Man, you sure do get scared easy,” Sal teased as he held out his hand to me. “Come on, sit back down. I’ll keep you safe.”
I felt like an idiot as I took my seat. Sal threw a blanket over us, draped his arm around my shoulder, and pulled me close. He took the bowl and set it on an end table.
“My sister Cora can’t watch scary movies either,” I heard Mr. Castenada saying. I peeked around his son, my face still hot.
“Aunt Cora is the worst, Aug. You should see her.” Sal started talking, softly, calmly, using his voice to ease my embarrassment as he went on and on about his aunt and how she had to watch Ghostbusters through her fingers. “And really, Ghostbusters isn’t a scary movie at all,” he pointed out, then jumped when something grisly and ghastly appeared on the screen. We all shrieked in unison, so I didn’t feel quite so cowardly from that point on.
After the horror-fest, the men stayed up to watch some baseball. Mr. Castenada chatted away with us as the game crept into the ninth inning. I was totally at ease here. When midnight arrived, the game ended, so we made our way upstairs.
Sal went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. There was a small mirror on the dresser, a round one on a stand. I flipped that over just in case any ghost girls wanted to appear in it, stripped down to my underwear, and crawled into the middle of his bed, my back to his headboard and my legs tucked in close to my chest. That was how he found me a couple of minutes later. I watched his eyes flare in surprise.
“If I have nightmares about creepy girls pulling me into mirrors tonight, it is totally your fault,” I informed him.
“They don’t make big, tough hockey players the way they used to.”
I flipped him off, then wiggled downward, letting my eyes close. He silently kicked off his shoes. I heard them thump to the floor one after the other. Then the left side of the bed sank. I smelled his aftershave, then felt his hand brush my shoulder. I peeked up at him and got a soft smile as he ran a hand over my bare arm. Sal stretched out on his side to my right. A moment passed. I listened to myself breathing, the cadence slowing as we lay there saying nothing. My head rested on a pillow. Sal’s magnificent eyes were closed. I touched his side, pulled ever so slightly on him. He scooted closer, never touching me in any way. It was me who touched, arranged, and got us both comfortable.
“You wondering why I’m not all over you?” he asked, his voice low and sleepy.
“I was, but then I remembered your parents are on the other side of the wall.” I pushed my fingers under the band of his briefs and let my eyes slowly shut. “By the time we get to the woods up north, we’ll both be hornier than a bull moose.”
“Hell, I already am.”
We kissed lightly, just a brush of lips. I fell asleep after he did, and not one scary mirror girl ever showed up.
Morning came. When I managed to force my eyes open, it was past noon. Sal was not in the room. I felt gritty. Stripping as I walked, I slogged into the bathroom, mind still foggy, and stepped into the shower. The tiles were red, black, and white. The pulsating head felt great on the knotted muscles in my neck. I must have slept in some odd position. It was a fast shower, followed by a toothbrushing and a comb tugged through my hair. I opted not to shave, because I was on vacation. When I entered the kitchen, Sal lifted his head and lowered the book he was reading on his tablet, then got up. The stool he’d been sitting on grated on the tile floor.
“You have some major hair stuff going on,” he said, then produced a comb from his back pocket. “Want me to tame it down?”
“I already combed it once, but sure.”
He strolled over, all long legs in tight denim and a funky loose sweater in a shade of bronze that made his skin glow. I badly wanted to kiss him. So I hooked a finger into the neck of his sweater and gently led him to me. He moaned long and low when my lips met his. He was tense, even though no one was home. I took the floppy ends of his sweater and wrapped him in them, pulling him flush to me. A hot flash of lust burst to light in the pit of my stomach. I nipped at his lower lip. He responded instantly but tentatively. It was all up to me, so I lapped at the seam of his mouth until he met my tongue with the tip of his. Then we kissed deeply, our tongues tangling. When we broke apart, his eyes were hooded and hot.
“That was nice,” I panted, relishing the crush of him resting against me. I reached up to comb my fingers through his hair, then trace his eyebrow with my thumb. “Think we can sneak back upstairs?”
He was about to reply when the back door opened and Mrs. Castenada walked in with several cloth bags of food in her hands. Sal rolled his eyes at his mother, then rested his brow against mine.
“You want to go kick back at the mall for a few hours? Maybe we can grab a movie or something?” he asked while we took the bags from Sal’s mother and hefted them to the counters. She smiled lovingly at her son and then me.
“I’m up for anything,” I replied as Sal’s mom began emptying her shopping bags.
“Cool. We’ll see a movie, and then maybe we can head to this awesome little comic shop over in Elmira Heights.”
Sal grabbed a bag of cookies from inside a bag on the counter, tore into it, shimmied over to me holding the cookies over his head, then pressed his tasty mouth to mine. His kiss tasted like chocolate chips. All the while, Mrs. Castenada was chiding him about how bad foods wouldn’t make him strong and healthy. His HIV was always there. Sometimes I could forget about if for a couple of hours, or even a day, but then something would remind me. Seeing him swallow a cocktail of pills, his dedication to playing basketball and hitting the gym, or his zeal for nutritious foods. Him stealing cookies was super unusual.
“She worries,” he whispered against my lips.
“She loves you, just like I do.”
We shared another kiss and a couple of pilfered cookies, then headed out for a day of doing nothing at all. Shopping, lunch at the food court in the mall, more shopping, a crappy action movie, then a couple of hours at the comic book shop. It was perfect. And just what I needed to help rinse away the disappointment of the Cougars not being champions this year.
As Sal and Mrs. Castenada worked on dinner, I stepped out onto the back porch and called my parents. They were anxiously awaiting me and my guest. I tried at least five times in the ten minutes we were talking to tell my mother that it was a guy I was bringing home, but the timing was always wrong. And should I really tell them I was gay over the phone? Our time in Martens Bay was going to be real interesting.
After the call home, I joined the Castenada family for dinner. Mrs. Castenada served us bowls of corn soup followed by soft tacos stuffed with strips of steak and topped with chunks of tomatoes, hot peppers, onions, lettuce and cheese. For dessert there were candied sweet potatoes that were so good I overate to the point of discomfort.
“If I lived here, I’d be so big I couldn’t reach down to tie my skates,” I whispered to Sal as we cleaned the kitchen for his mother.
After clean-up, the family gathered in the living room for more baseball. I saw where Sal got his love of the game. We sat side by side on the couch, his fingers resting on mine.
Mr. and Mrs. Castenada both stood up when the anthem started. I looked questioningly at Sal. He also shoved himself to his feet, so I did as well. Both the older folks sang loudly. It was obvious that they were super proud to be American citizens. When we all sat back down, Sal wiggled in to my side, his head resting against mine. I turned my head, kissed his temple, and prayed that my old, out-of-touch parents would be half as cool and accepting as the Castenada family was.