Eduardo

She was so proud of herself, of her new, grown up life, in her dingy little basement apartment, in a creaky and weathered old house in need of a lot of love and money. She was thrilled with the crappy retail job she had that paid the $96 monthly rent, the windows through which only knees, ankles and feet of passersby were visible. She was proud of being independent and free to do whatever she chose, even if that meant sleeping on a mattress on the floor, not having any other furniture, and enduring the daily, loud, brash arguments of the inhabitants of the abode above.

The father, mother, and 40 year old “spinster” daughter shouted, talked over, and yelled at each other, “shut up already”, all day and night long, each to the other. But it was worse between the mother and her shrewish mini-me, who sounded like a cat being strangled. She avoided them for the most part, was polite when they bumped into each other, and when he knocked on the door for the rent on the 1st of each month. Her own life with family had been noisy like that. Violent. Which is why she ran as soon as she could.

Hell, she had survived her mother’s boyfriend, the fucking rapist, and all the assholes who, thus far in her still very young life, had catcalled, groped and grabbed, humped jumped and dumped her; all the Rushin hands and Roamin Fingers, all the stares, and leers, and lecherous, lewd behavior, from men who believed they were superior to her, and liked to remind her of “her place.” Men who thought they were entitled to her, who plucked pieces of her as if she were ripe fruit. Even Brian, the first crush, first true love of her life, and the first to break her heart, was cruel to her, more aggressive than passive, and expected her to yield her desires and needs, to his. She had been conditioned to accept this as normal behavior, and assumed it was so because all the men she knew and met, believed and behaved similarly.

She hadn’t slept well, and woke up out of sorts. She and Sami had argued, he hadn’t come home, and she was worried and scared. And a little jealous. She knew that if he stayed out all night, he’d been at The Baths, having a lot of stoned sex, with many men. She needed to get out of the empty and dim apartment, sitting and fretting wouldn’t change anything. She knew that it was his MO to go silent, then just show up when he felt like it, waving away her questions and comments, “no, not interested”.

She was still in the early stages of figuring out the whole adult thing, and many things flustered and confused her. Sami was capricious and erratic, which on the one hand made him exciting and fun to be with. But she wouldn’t tolerate that behavior from other friends, she’d let them know how she felt. Sami became enraged by feedback about his behavior, and he punished her by not calling, and prowling the streets and bath houses for a few days to blow off some steam before prancing in like a prince.

She worked 6 days a week, and the employer was a cruel, whip cracking sonofabitch. He called all the female employees sweetheart, and couldn’t be bothered to learn their names. She had no TV, only a small boom box tuned to WBLS radio. She read library books. On payday, the crew from work hung out for a few drinks, but she rarely stayed long due to the hour long subway ride back to Brooklyn from midtown.        It was Sunday, and a beautiful day, so she decided to head to the beach nearby, to bask in the sun, and in the glory of being 21. All her responsibilities would still be there when she got back. Was that adultish?

She wrote a quick note, went to beach, and left it taped to the peeling plaster wall above the toilet, just in case Sami happened to stumble home.

They hadn’t become intentional roommates, not at all. Sami was living in a smarmy hotel on West 49th Street off 8th Avenue, a hotel used by sex workers, drug addicts and dealers, and dubious other night crawlers. His mother paid the monthly rent on the room, believing that Sami was taking classes at AMDA, not knowing he’d dropped out a year earlier. Somehow, she found out that he’d left school, a condition of the rent deal, and withheld further payments. Sami didn’t work, and couldn’t pay, but strung them along for a few months before they evicted him. He couldn’t ask Mama for more, so she told him he could stay with her.

Did she mention that she rescued things?

She left her apartment and walked across Brighton Beach Avenue, then walked one more block until she reached the beach. The sand burned her bare feet as she scouted a desirable spot, one that was conveniently aligned with the entry/exit, and close to the water’s edge where a slight breeze beat back the heat of high noon. She found her happy place, and spread the small blanket atop the sand, weighting the corners with sneakers, a book, a bottle of Coppertone.

She enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face, and lifted her chin toward the sky, wriggling out of her oversized, faded denim shirt, revealing a pale, curvy figure, with full, ripe breasts and ample hips. She sat down and crossed her legs in lotus position, and inhaled deeply. She loved the beach, had always loved the beach, even in winter when it was desolate and grey, she felt at home there, comforted by the rhythm of the ocean.

The waves gently broke against the rocks, and the air was redolent with the salty tang of the Atlantic. She lightly oiled her bare skin, and enjoyed the coconutty smell of the tropics, a smell she would always associate with summer. Her skin glistened, and she could feel the sun’s heat penetrate into her bones. Her senses were alive, awake. She could feel sweat beading on her lip and between her breasts, feel the sand beneath her buttocks, soft and firm, supportive and yielding. She heard children shrieking as waves washed over them, and the beer guys were hawking,        Budweiser, Budweiser, one dolla.       Her body relaxed, at peace. Om.

Full, dry lips suddenly crushed hers with a kiss that seared her mouth and stole her breath. Startled, her eyes flew open. her heart raced, her toes curled. She saw him before her, his legs shapely and muscled, sunlight glinting off golden hair. Her eyes gazed upward to find a hard body gleaming with oil and sweat, head cocked to one side, a wheat colored lock of hair falling over one eye. A sly smirk played across his lips, those luscious lips, arms crossed over his well developed pecs. He was cocky and arrogant. She was speechless, breathless.

He took a step forward, bent down and kissed her again. Her lips were on fire, and a jolt shot from her groin, through the top of her head, into the deep blue sky.

I am Eduardo, he breathed into her ear. you are the most beautiful woman on this beach.

Me?     She felt herself turn red. Nobody but her grandfather had ever said that to her before. Plenty of people had informed her that she was fuckable, but nobody had ever called her beautiful before. All they saw were her boobs. That’s all she saw when she looked at them, too.

I didn’t know you had blue eyes, he said. Bella.        His eyes were golden, like his hair. His voice was like silk, slightly accented, and she wanted him to talk some more.

This was a dream, had to be a dream. Nothing like this has ever happened to her before, things like this just don’t happen to nice Jewish girls living in Brighton Beach. she’d had sex, but with boys pretending to be men, inexperienced, awkward, clumsy, rough. She’d never been aroused before. So this is what it feels like to be a woman, she thought.  The most beautiful woman on that beach.

He sat down next to her. I’ve been looking for you, he says.

How do you know it’s me you’ve been looking for? how do I know i’m not just the girl who happened to be here? She shielded her eyes from the sun to look at him.

And then, unbelievably, from seemingly out of nowhere, there was Sami, standing knee to shoulder with Eduardo, eclipsing the sun, giving him the once over.

Baby Baba, he said, grinning slyly. Did You find us a playmate? He gently nudged Eduardo’s shoulder with his knee.

She didn’t know what she found, but she did know that she certainly wasn’t going to share him.

Eduardo, this is my friend Sami. Sami, Eduardo. Eduardo rose to his feet, Sami removed an oversized pair of my Emanuelle Kahn the dark glasses, looking Eduardo in the eye as they shook hands. His lip curled into the hint of a smirk.

I was just telling your lovely friend that I want to take her to Italy, I have never seen such eyes before. They are as blue and deep as the ocean.

She knows it’s just a bullshit line, but she likes it anyway.     Eduardo reached down and offered her a hand, dismissing Sami. Lets take a walk, he said, taking her elbow and steering her away from Sami..

she was eager to go, but confusion stopped her. How could she leave poor Sami all alone and go off with this prince who has come to sweep her off her feet?

Sami. Who was out all night fucking. Why was she worried about how he felt? Aye, there’s the rub.

How could she not take this opportunity to be Cinderella?    Here was a man, a cultured man, who, even if he talked bullshit, talked quality bullshit. He made her feel good about herself. She had never been with anyone who made her feel that way. Most dates or boyfriends made her feel insecure and unworthy.

I’m so sorry, Eduardo, I had a date with Sami. The truth was, she was scared. Scared to take a chance on love, scared to dream that something else besides a life in Brooklyn was possible. The awful truth was, she had fallen for Sami, knowing full well that he was gay. But he confused her, because he’d come to her for sex on several occasions, he’d said he loved her. And foolish, foolish girl, she believed it. She needed to believe that somebody loved her.

Eduardo released her arm. Then I’ll pick you up at 7:00 tonight.       He was undeterred by her hesitation. She liked that. Not at all wishy washy like the locals.

She knows if she makes the leap, everything will change.    Eduardo was bold and hot and Italian. She’d never felt a kiss like that before, her body had never responded with such fervor. Was she prepared for what could come next?

She hadn’t had a lover before, only nebbishy boys who took her out to cheap restaurants, and wanted handjobs in the movies, who kissed clumsily, and slobbered all over her like a puppy.

But, maybe she had only been a girl with them, not a woman at all. She hadn’t known how a woman felt before Eduardo’s kiss.