Chapter 5
As Colin walked back into the lobby of The Brass Key with his shopping bags, Rudy jumped up from a chair. The man behind the registration desk said, “Mr. Felton, this gentleman has been waiting for you.”
“Thanks, Ken.” To Rudy, Colin said, “I’m glad you came by. Let’s go talk in my room so I can drop off these bags.” He gestured with his head for Rudy to follow him up the stairs and through the corridors.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said when they entered his room. He tossed his bags on the bed and then came over to the sitting area. Rudy fidgeted as he looked out the French doors to the courtyard of the guesthouse. He couldn’t seem to hold his hands still, one fluttering up to touch the drapes, the other alternating between his front and back pockets.
Colin sat down in a comfortable chair and waited. Rudy gnawed on his lower lip like a piece of chewing gum. Finally, he huffed, “I hope this is right.” He sank down into a chair next to Colin’s, both seats angled to look out the French doors.
Leaning forward, Colin met Rudy’s nervous gaze. “I won’t repeat anything you tell me. I want to help if I can. I’ve heard many stories of undocumented people being pressured into something terrible. I don’t want that to happen to you or to Hernán. That’s his name, right?”
Rudy sighed and crossed his legs, hands folded on his knee as he rocked slightly. “Okay. Hernán would think I’m crazy but I feel like I can trust you. This…it’s hard to talk about.”
<<Would you rather discuss it in Spanish?>> Colin asked in that language, and smiled when Rudy’s mouth opened in an O of surprise. <<I’m pretty fluent. Maybe you’d be more comfortable.>>
Rudy gave a small grin but shook his head. “Thank you, but I try hard to stick to English. Other than a little bit of sexy talk, most of the men I meet don’t want to be reminded I’m not from the States.”
“Where are you from?” Colin asked to break the ice.
“We—both Nán and me—we’re originally from San Marcos, in El Salvador. My father got his green card a long time ago. He was able to bring my mother and me in about nine years ago. I’m here legally. But Nán’s father… He got in trouble, was deported, came back. He couldn’t get any kind of immigration permit. Something bad happened to Hernán last year, though, and he couldn’t wait anymore. He, you know…” Rudy swallowed hard. “He came across the border.”
Colin nodded. From his conversations with clients at the Immigration Initiative center, he knew a little about the journey people undertook when they were desperate to come to the United States. No one made that expensive and hazardous trek lightly.
“Can you tell me what happened to Hernán?” he asked.
Rudy shook his head. “He wouldn’t like that. He’s very private.”
“Okay. Tell me what I can do to help.”
Rudy collapsed back into his chair and waved his arms wide. He sounded close to tears. “I don’t know. Hernán shouldn’t have to do this. Go with Gerald, I mean. But Gerald can make things very bad for both of us.”
He fell silent and then brushed away a tear from his cheek. “I used to think I loved Gerald. Isn’t that pathetic? I was with him for more than two years and I really believed for a long time that it meant something to him. That I was more than his kept boy. Then he made me leave and he got lawyers involved and I was so embarrassed. I thought that was as low as he could go. But now… Now he’s trying to make my cousin go to bed with him. Hernán can’t do that.”
Can’t? To Colin, that seemed a curious word to use, but it was beside the immediate point. “Have you or Hernán talked to a lawyer about whether any immigration options are open to him?”
Rudy wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and shook his head. He mumbled, “We can’t afford it.”
“That’s where we need to start then. I know good lawyers who handle some matters like this pro bono, so you might be able to get help without paying. We need to get Hernán to tell someone his story. Since you’ve got a green card, maybe we can use that to have you sponsor him. Or another relative, if he has one in the States legally.” Colin sat back with a whoosh as he ran through options in his head. “What else could work? Maybe asylum.”
“What’s that?” Rudy asked.
“Asylum is a special path to get permission to stay in the U.S. for someone who’s likely to be persecuted in his or her home country because of religion or membership in a political group. Or certain social groups, for that matter, like being gay or transgendered.”
Rudy sat up straight. “You can stay here just for being gay?”
Colin shook his head. “It’s not quite that simple. You have to prove that you have a well-founded belief you’ve been targeted for harm specifically for your sexual orientation or identity, and that the circumstances in your home country are such that you couldn’t get protection anywhere.”
Rudy muttered, “El Salvador is terrible that way. My friend Linda was transgender. She was murdered in San Marcos and the police wouldn’t do anything even though they knew who did it. The man who killed her was in church the next week. Everyone knew and no one said anything.”
“That’s so sad. I’m sorry about your friend,” Colin said, leaning forward to meet Rudy’s eyes. After a respectful pause, he continued, “We’d have to study that avenue more. Is Hernán part of some group where he was being persecuted? Maybe a political group?”
Rudy turned red and rocked back and forth. “I can’t… He’ll be so mad at me.”
Colin tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Can you get him to talk to me? Maybe if he trusts me, he’ll tell me. Or let you talk about it.”
Rudy jumped to his feet as he all but wailed, “He won’t come. I begged him.” He paced around the sitting room, stopping to look out at the courtyard. Finally he asked, “What if you come to the restaurant? At closing time. He’s usually done and ready to head home about eleven. That’s late, I know, but if you’re there and I get you two talking…”
Colin stood and put a hand on Rudy’s shoulder to calm him. “I’ll be in front of Veranda at eleven.”
At the appointed time, Colin stood shivering on Commercial Street. The damp ocean air had morphed into a low-hanging fog that shrouded the street lamps in gauze. The top of the Pilgrim Tower, a huge granite monolith looming over the town, was completely lost from sight.
For a Saturday night, the street seemed fairly quiet. People huddled into their jackets as they passed by. The clothes Colin had brought for the trip weren’t really warm enough. He wore a light sweater under his mid-weight jacket, his hands were stuffed into his jeans, but the chilly night air felt much colder than the temperature indicated on his smartphone. If the fog didn’t lift, he mused, he was going to have trouble getting out of Provincetown the next day.
Finally he heard two voices speaking low in Spanish, and Rudy and Hernán materialized through the fog. Rudy sounded desperate when he switched to English and hissed, “Just talk to him. Please. This is my fault and I can’t let you just give in to Gerald.”
Colin stepped forward and offered his hand to Hernán. He said, “We meet again. I think I was warmer last night when I was wet.” Hernán looked up at him from under his bangs, his eyes showing only suspicion.
Rudy looked back and forth between the two of them. “Wait, you’ve met?”
Colin nodded. “Your cousin threw a line into the harbor and fished me out.” He smiled, and Hernán finally softened his glare. A slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gave Colin hope.
Hernán said in a rough voice, “I was hoping for some tuna but I think I pulled up a dolphin.”
Colin barked out a short laugh. “I may not look like it, but I can be a shark when necessary.”
Hernán studied him for a long moment, and then looked at Rudy. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I think the expression is, ‘It’s colder than a witch’s tit.’”
It sounded like an opening, so Colin said, “Let’s get out of this fog. Where can we talk?”
Rudy piped up. “Not your inn. Gerald sometimes likes to go to the bar there. We don’t want to run into him.”
“The Little Bar is probably quiet enough to talk,” Hernán offered.
“Lead the way.”
The three walked along Commercial until Hernán turned into a small street and led them to an old building. Further down the block was the dance club Atlantic House. A steady beat of Saturday night house music pumped against Colin’s ears but when they left the street the pulse became more muted.
The Little Bar was just that—a small, narrow room that ended in a stone fireplace where a good blaze crackled. The bar that lined the left side of the space was old, its wooden counter scarred. A man with a thick gray mustache and beard served drinks behind it. Only a few patrons claimed seats at the bar or stood around.
Rudy said, “Get me something fabulous. I’ll go save those chairs near the fire.”
“Hey George,” Hernán called out with a broad smile as they stepped up to the bar, and Colin had time to wish that smile was for him. The bartender tipped his head in greeting. “Let’s get a cosmopolitan for Rudy, and I’ll take a Sam Adams. You?” he asked Colin.
“I’m buying these, to say thank you for last night. I’ll take a Coke.” George pulled a beer bottle out of his bar fridge, filled a cup with soda, and then started to assemble Rudy’s drink. Colin pulled some twenties out of his pocket.
“You don’t have to do that,” Hernán said, a slight edge harshening his tone. “I can buy my own drink.”
“I’m sure you can, but I was raised to show thanks when someone does something nice. You got wet last night. Let me buy,” Colin all but pleaded.
Hernán glared at the counter until George came back with Rudy’s pink cosmo, a plastic mermaid dangling from the rim of the glass. Colin laughed at that and Hernán looked quickly at him. He gave a small, reluctant grin himself. He didn’t protest again when Colin slid money across the bar to George.
Rudy had arranged three wooden chairs in a way that maximized their privacy while giving him a chance to look over all the men in the bar. Hernán shook his head as he handed over the cocktail. “You looking to pick up some company tonight, primo?”
“I don’t want to be a waiter forever,” Rudy answered with a dismissive wave of his free hand before he sipped delicately at his cosmo. “I need to find a man to keep me warm.”
Colin settled in with his soda, to the right of Hernán’s chair. “It must get lonely in Provincetown over the winter, when all the tourists go home.”
Rudy said, “I guess we’ll find out, if we don’t get good jobs in Boston. There are a few restaurants here that stay open year round, and a couple of the shops and galleries. We’d probably find something.”
Hernán grimaced. “You can wait tables anywhere. I don’t think there are enough dishwasher or cleaning jobs to keep me going.” He glanced at Colin, and frown lines appeared on his forehead. “Enough of that. Why are we here?”
Rudy leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Colin has some ideas for ways you could get documents and stay here. Then Gerald wouldn’t be able to threaten you. Either of us.”
Hernán turned red and growled, <<Dammit, Rudy. I told you I’d handle this.>>
Colin interjected. <<I heard what that Nimble asshole wants you to do, Hernán. It’s terrible and you shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of harassment.>>
Hernán stared at him blankly for a moment. Then he muttered, “I forgot you speak Spanish.” Silence stretched between them. Colin gazed back into Hernán’s obsidian eyes, trying to make the stubborn man see that he genuinely wanted to help.
Rudy said softly, “Nán, we don’t have anyone else to turn to. Just hear him out.”
Hernán grunted and inclined his head. Grudgingly, he asked Colin, “And why is it that you have ideas about this? Are you a lawyer?”
Colin shook his head. “No, I work for a non-profit that helps immigrants get acclimated to life in the States. I meet a lot of people there who got their green cards or work permits in different ways. We help with jobs training, language classes, all kinds of things like that. Also some lobbying on Capitol Hill about immigration issues, particularly the ones that keep families apart. We need to get you together with an immigration lawyer who can really explore the options. I have a lot of contacts who might be willing to help.”
Rudy interrupted eagerly, “Nán, he says there’s a thing called asylum. For people who’ve been persecuted and can’t be protected by the police where they come from.”
Colin nodded. “It’s a little more complicated than that, but maybe that’s a possibility. You have to show that you’ve been persecuted because you’re in a special group. Like a religious or political organization—”
“Or gay,” Rudy interrupted.
Hernán shot him a hard look and Rudy shut up. To Colin, he said, “I can’t afford a lawyer. Even if I could, that takes a lot of time, right? Gerald is a problem right now.”
Colin set his cup on a table and rubbed his palms against his jeans. “I, uh, I thought about that today. After Rudy and I talked.” He felt his ears beginning to burn. “You could, uh, leave P-town while the process happens.” Hernán frowned, Rudy looked puzzled, and Colin blurted out, “You can come to DC and stay with me.”
Hernán’s jaw dropped and a peculiar combination of emotions flared in his eyes. The only one Colin was sure he could read was fear. Even Rudy looked suspicious. Shit, I’m making a mess again.
Hernán opened his mouth to dismiss the offer but Colin jumped in. “Look, I’m sure it sounds ridiculous. But hear me out. I have plenty of space, and you’d have your own room. If you’re in DC, I can get you together with people who may be able to help.”
He glanced at Rudy, trying to get support. “David, the man Brandon married. He’s a very good lawyer with several immigration wins. Or he can help us find someone else. But he lives in DC as well, so everything will just be so much easier if you’re there too.”
Cautiously, Rudy added, “Brandon says Colin is a good man…”
The fear on Hernán’s face gave way to anger. His eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. He barked out, “And just what would I have to do, to pay for my room and this legal help? You going to make me suck your dick every night? Let you fuck me?” He surged to his feet. “I might as well let Gerald do what he wants. What difference does it make who turns me into a puto?”
Slamming his bottle on the table, Hernán stormed out of the bar.
Colin looked at Rudy with wide eyes. “I don’t want anything from him. I feel like I owe him for rescuing me. I want to help.”
Rudy bit his lip, trembling so much he sloshed his cosmo. “It’s complicated. I believe you mean to be nice, but… It’s bad for Hernán. Worse than it ever was for me.” He looked ready to cry again. “I guess he’s right. Anything you can do is going to take time. We don’t have time.”
Colin could hear his mother’s voice in his head. Well, you tried your best. That’s my brave boy. Sometimes you can’t help, no matter how much you want to. Trust me. You have nothing to blame yourself for. You offered help and he didn’t take it. Just go back home and keep working at your little charity. That’s enough. It makes you feel good.
The memory of Pranav’s voice on the phone clawed at his stomach. Can you help me? Colin had done nothing, and then Pranav was gone.
No.
This time Colin wasn’t going to give up after one try. He wasn’t going to slink away. What Gerald demanded was wrong. Hernán needed help and that meant Colin had to find a way to convince him he would be safe in Washington.
He said to Rudy, “I’m going after him.”
“He’ll be heading right, when he gets to Commercial Street.”