Angels And Bad Men

By: David H
(© 2011-2012 by the author)
Editor: Ken King

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 9
”The Isle of Enchantment”

By the time we arrived in San Juan, it was raining.  It was just a light mist, though, and nothing to be alarmed over.  After all, it was San Juan, capital of the Isle of Enchantment, Puerto Rico; and Puerto Rico is always beautiful, regardless of weather.

We grabbed our bags and went quickly to find a taxi that would accommodate all eight of us.  It was packed so tightly that I was forced to sit in the front seat next to a cabbie that obviously had an issue with deodorant.  He knew where we were going, however, and quickly deposited us and our belongings to the particular place on the Avenida Ashford in the Condado neighborhood of San Juan.

Before we could get out of the car good, though, Mom’s younger sister, Titi Lourdes, was walking from the porch of her restored late-19th century beachfront home.  Titi and Mom quickly embraced one another and spoke in really fast, choppy Puerto Rican Spanish.  Their voices as they struggled to express their mutual emotion at being reunited once more sounded like a choir of angels to my ears, ears that had been listening for months to the sound of self-loathing thoughts that could drive one insane.  Titi, in her fashion, came to each one of us, paying special attention to the little ones.  Heidi was excited about speaking Spanish; Chloe was just happy that she was looking into a face as happy as hers.

It took us a little bit, but we finally managed to get settled into Titi’s house.  The place was huge, but there still wasn’t enough room for everyone to have their own beds. Mom and Dad were in one room; Titi was in another; Parker and Laura shared a third bedroom with the girls while Justin and I were relegated to sleeping on the two large, plush sofas in Titi’s salón. 

Not long after we arrived, Titi and Mom sent Parker and Dad to the store just down from her house to pick up a few things for dinner while the two of them drove a few kilometers away to a grocery store for a few other things they would need.  Justin moped around the house for a little bit, probably because Carter didn’t come with us, while Laura and I took the girls out to the beach.

If you’ve never experienced the beaching in Puerto Rico, then you’re truly missing out.  In my opinion at least, the beaches in Puerto Rico are the most relaxing, richest bars of sand in the US.  They’re clean; they’re fresh; they’re amazing.

While Laura and Heidi played in the water, Chloe and I sat on the sand.  We were close enough so that, as the water washed against the shore, my feet were buried a little bit in the sand.

“Chloe,” I started.  She perked as she heard my voice, almost as if she were listening.  “This is part of where we’re from,” I said in English.  We had started talking Spanish to her, but she seemed to be responding better when we spoke in English.

She giggled and smiled, as if she understood the gravity and complexity of my words, despite their simplistic sound.  This was truly what made me who I was.  It was from the combination of hearty Taíno and Spanish stock, mixed with the drive and determination of my paternal Dutch heritage, that made me who I was.  If anything had happened on the flight there, it was that I began to realize the importance of reconnecting with who I was from the very conception of my being.

Noting my pensiveness, Chloe climbed from where she was sitting in the sand and walked over to me.  I was close enough to her level, I suppose, that she felt she could come up to me and wrap her little arms around my neck.  It was so sweet as she held me.  It’s amazing the effect that little girls can have on someone whose very life had almost been ripped away from him a few months before.

“RYRY!” Heidi yelled from the water as she and Laura walked out.  “I stepped on some kind of fish!” she sounded so excited.  “I didn’t mean to, but I did.  Do you think he’s okay?”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Kid,” I said.

“We’ve been out here for a while,” Laura said.  “We should probably go inside and get washed off so that we can help Titi and Nani get dinner ready.  What do you think?” she asked Heidi.

“Okay,” Heidi relented.  The four of us stood and walked into the back of the house.

Justin was on the phone when we got back inside, talking sweetly to someone whose voice we couldn’t hear.  We all knew that it was Carter.  True to form, I walked over to my younger brother and flicked a little sand on him.  Heidi followed suit as Justin screamed and almost cursed the two of us.  Heidi and I ran off into other rooms, as Justin was too occupied with Carter to chase after us (or rather, me).

In a little bit, Dad and Parker returned from their trek.  Parker carried with him four 24-can packs of a beer local to Puerto Rico called “Medalla.”  Dad carried three bags, only two of which had come from Walgreens, proof that they’d stopped at one of the stores close by to purchase a little local rum called “Don Q,” the rum that Puerto Ricans drink.

Mom and Titi returned a little bit later, having also stopped at the airport to pick up Armando and Carmen, who’d flown down a day earlier than expected to celebrate with the family.  The sleeping arrangements were again disrupted to the point that we all said “Fuck it,” and decided to figure it all out later.

A few minutes after their return, the show started.  Mom and Titi went into the kitchen and started getting dinner ready.  It was their own little tradition that dinner preparations couldn’t start until they’d consumed at least one glass of wine each.  It was Dad’s responsibility to make sure, after dinner was started, that their wine glasses were never empty.  Usually, after the third glass, they put in a CD of salsa music and put the flavor of Puerto Rico into not only the food but also the preparation of it.

On their mix CD, there was one song by Celia Cruz called “La Isla del Encanto.”  Mom put down what she was doing and looked at my father, beckoning him to her with a single finger.  It was at that moment that Titi’s kitchen became a salsa club for a few minutes as my parents danced.

“Estoy celosa!” Titi jokingly acted as though she were offended.

“I got this, Titi,” Justin volunteered as he took her and began to dance around the kitchen.  Justin was by no means fluent in the language of salsa dancing, but Titi was a good teacher.

As the song ended, the ladies of the family returned to the preparation of dinner.  In no time, we were truly feasting on things that one can only experience in Puerto Rico.  It’s not because they’re not available on the mainland, but something about Puerto Rico makes food taste better, richer, more vibrant as it touches one’s palate.

After dinner, the final arrangements for sleeping were made, and we all basically passed out from a combination of fatigue and liquor.

That night, my dreams were vivid as I tossed and turned on the sofa.  My mind unlocked more images for me to recall during a time of absolute relaxation, images that were so very disturbing that I couldn’t explain them completely the next morning after I woke.

For the first time, I was able to remember talking to Matt as he helped me into my apartment.  I could almost feel the way my hand rubbed blood against the wall.  I could remember complaining about getting blood on the carpets as he guided me into my bathroom.  I recalled telling him that I’d just fallen and that I would be okay.  I could feel that I was lying to him in the dream, but I couldn’t force myself to go back to the moment it all happened, to see what that man had actually done to me that had forced me to re-evaluate everything about life itself.

The next morning, I woke to find myself alive and kicking before everyone else in the house.  The night before, I’d put some clothes into my backpack just in the event I did rise before the rest of the family.  As quietly as I could, I sneaked into the washroom just off the living room and changed into a pair of shorts in which I could run.  I don’t know what it was, perhaps it was Puerto Rico itself, but I had to do something.  I hadn’t worked out, run, done anything remotely related to physical activity in months, and I was beginning to feel the effects of my relative sedimentary existence all over my body.

I scribbled a note letting anyone who might worry know where I was gone, and then quietly sneaked out the front door of the house.  At that hour of the morning, the Avenida Ashford was deserted.  I took a deep breath and turned west, toward San Juan.  I certainly wouldn’t make it there, but I might make it to the bridge that connects the Condado to the city and back.

As swimming was and continues to be my cardio of choice, I started off briskly walking.  Walking turned into a slow jog; jogging turned into running until I felt the sweat on my brow.  I made it all the way down to the bridge, returning via the Calle Magdalena, Calle Condado, and then turning back onto the Avenida before reaching Titi’s house once more.

The house was abuzz with activity when I returned, sweaty and in need of some sort of hydration.  Heidi was tormenting Justin as he tried to sleep.  It really was the stuff that older brothers live for: payback!

“Come on, Heidi,” he begged.  “Five more minutes.”

“Okay.  But if you’re not up, I’m gonna have RyRy put his stinky armpits in your face,” she warned.

“I’m up!” he said as he sat up on the couch, quickly.  There was laughter from Heidi and Chloe, who was tagging along with her sister as always.

“You look rough,” I noted as Justin wiped his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have had that much to drink last night,” he noted.  In Puerto Rico, the drinking age is 18, but it’s not uncommon for members of the family to have a drink or seven at seventeen.

“You should have stopped when I did,” I joked as I walked into the kitchen for a bottle of water or juice or something.

“¿Te has disfrutado la mañana?” Mom asked as she sat there, her hair a wreck as she’d just woken up.  Titi, who was sitting with her, looked equally bad.

“Sí,” I answered as I took a large swig of water.  “I’ve really enjoyed it so far.”

“You went running?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered.  “All the way to the bridge and back.”

“¡Moriría!” exclaimed Titi, expressing that a run like that might take the very life from her body.

With my water in hand, I went in to take a quick shower before joining the rest of the family with whatever was going on for the rest of the day.  After spending time in the Old City and taking the ferry to the Casa Bacardí, we returned back to Titi’s house.

Those of us who were old enough decided that we wanted to go out.  Parker, Laura, Armando, Carmen, and I were the five that felt the itching to once more in our lives experience the nightlife of the Condado. 

After showers and getting ready, which included putting the girls to bed and soothing Justin’s somewhat upset moment, the five of us left and began walking down the Avenida toward what we’d decided would be the first stop of the evening—one of the casinos that was tucked inside one of the hotels that lined the somewhat touristy area of San Juan.

The girls went over to play slots while Armando went directly to the bar to grab himself a couple of drinks.  Parker and I went to a poker table and bought into a game.

The place was dead that night, and as a result, for the longest time we were the only two people sitting at the table.  I won the first hand; he won the next four, severely depleting my cash reserves. 

“So, how nice is it to be on the island?” Parker asked after a particularly successful hand.

“Nicer than you can imagine... for me at least,” I answered, having enjoyed every single minute of the place.

“You’re not getting down on me are you?” Parker asked.  “I mean, we haven’t even gotten to the bars yet.”

“No.  I’ve actually been in a really good mood for the last couple of days,” I answered.

“That’s good.  I really do hate it when either you or Justin is upset about something.  Something about being the older brother makes me a little bit protective, I suppose.”

“You don’t know how much I’ve appreciated that, too,” I said as I presented the table with a perfect full house, winning all the money on the table.

“It’s nothing.  You’d have done the same thing for me,” he said.

“True.”

“So, when are you gonna start your thesis?” he asked.

“I have to start it soon.  I spoke with Dr. Lekkas a couple of weeks ago and pitched a new idea.”

“Oh?” Parker asked genuinely.

“Yeah.  I’m just not sure that I can write about a singer who gets addicted to coke.”

“So, what’s it gonna be about?”

“I’m not sure yet.  I’m thinking,” I started, “about writing about what all has happened.”

“It might be a good idea.  It would let you get it all out of your system.  What are you thinking about calling it?”

“I don’t know.  I was thinking that ‘Angels and Bad Men’ sounded like a good title,” I answered.

“Interesting.  There’s a certain dichotomy to it.”

I smiled.  Never in my wildest dreams had I imaged that my brother would have paid attention in a lit class long enough to know to use that word.  To be honest, I hadn’t thought about it myself.

“I was also thinking of basing every character in the book on someone that I know... someone that’s helped me get through all of this.”

“Would I get a character?”

“Of course,” I answered without thinking twice.

“What would my name be?”

“Hmmm…” I thought.  “Maybe Ben.”

“What about Laura?”

“She makes me think of a Stephanie,” I said.

“Nice.  Ben and Stephanie, the most unlikely couple ever,” Parker joked as he presented the winning hand.  “And you should call Justin’s character ‘Aaron.’”

“See?  This is why I love having you as a brother,” I said with a smile.  “You’ll help me out with shit like this.”

“Just do me a favor,” Parker advised as the dealer gave us what would end up being our last set of cards.

“What’s that?”

“When you write it, write it from your heart, and don’t let anyone tell you that it’s not worth it to tell your story.”  My brother looked at me seriously.  He meant every word of what he was saying to me.  “And when you sell it and make a lot of money, you’d better buy me something that’s fucking NICE!” he went on, lightening the mood as he always seemed to be able to do.

“Okay, guys,” Laura and Carmen said as they walked over.  “Carmen and I have won all the money we’re gonna need for tonight.”

“How much did you win?” Parker asked.

“I won a grand,” Laura announced as she counted the cash that she’d won at slots.

“And I got almost that much,” Carmen answered.  “I won enough to get my boyfriend and me a room in this swank place for the night so that we don’t have to sleep on the blow up mattresses!”

“Nice,” Parker said.  “Then why don’t we go get Mando,” as my brother called our cousin, “and then hit the bars?  I’m anxious to show off my hot lady!”

“And this is why I love you!” Laura commented as they lightly kissed on the lips.

“And maybe Ryan will find a man tonight!”

“NO!  I’m not even looking for anything like that esta noche!” I commented vehemently.

“Well, we are going to the gay bar,” Carmen said.

“No!” I commented.  “Y’all know how I feel about gay bars.”

“You have to!” Laura commented.  “It will be so much fun to just go, drink, and dance and shit.”

“Yeah,” Carmen said.  “And I won’t have to worry about any skanks trying to hit on my man!”

“And think,” Laura went on, “the guys will be flirting with Parker, too!”

“I’m not sure that this is such a good idea!” the straightest of my parents’ children joked.

“Shut up, Parker,” Laura ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” Parker relented.

I agreed to their little plan, as it was most likely going to happen whether I agreed to it or not.  As Parker went to the cashier to cash out chips, the girls went to fetch Armando from the bar.  As we passed the Roulette table, I forced Parker to stop for just a second.  I put a single $25 chip onto the number seventeen.  The croupier spun the ball around the wheel.  I was so surprised when it landed and hit the very number that I’d bet on.  I’d been putting a single chip on that number since I was first able to come into the casino, and it had never won.  The $875 dollars I’d won was more than just currency.  It appeared as though my luck were changing, for the better.

To be continued...

Posted: 01/13/12