Castro Street Memories

2

2My brother, Angelo, picked me up at Los Angeles International in a new, silver-gray El Dorado with air-conditioning and tinted glass windows. He told me he needed a good car for his business and that his wife still used the old station wagon for shopping and to drive the kids around.

I’m sorry we couldn’t make it for your graduation. Both Thalia and I wanted to come. It would have been a good opportunity for us to see a little of New York too but I couldn’t get away from the restaurant.

Maybe another time, I replied looking out of the car window at the multiple lanes of merging freeway traffic.

Are you staying for a while this time or going back east after the will is read?

I’ve taken a one-month leave of absence but haven’t decided what I’m going to do after that.

They don’t mind your long hair?

No, I haven’t had any problems with it. The way I wear my hair is my business. I take it you don’t like it.

Not particularly. It makes you look like a goddamn hippie! He said easing the car to the right for the next exit.

My brother and his family had moved into a larger tract home in a better neighborhood since the last time I visited. The low, ranch-style house, situated on a quiet, circular street, was nicely landscaped with a patio and pool in the back that Angelo was especially proud of.

Do you swim much? I asked when he showed me the turquoise tile, kidney-shaped pool.

Sometimes in the morning before I go to work, though not as much as I’d like to, but the kids enjoy it.

I looked at the thick, high wall of dark shrubbery surrounding the yard on three sides.

I won’t have to wear swim trunks here will I? It doesn’t look as if your neighbors can see through the hedge.

What do you mean? You can’t go around naked! he exclaimed.

Just around the pool.

I don’t want the children seeing you without any clothes.

Well, all right, if that’s the way you feel about it.

Over the next few days I swam and lay in the sun in the morning before it got too hot, spent the afternoons reading, and the evenings watching television.

The one day I decided to take a walk I was stopped by the police in a patrol car. They asked to see identification and wanted to know what I was doing, where I came from, where I was going.

This is a residential neighborhood, you know. I you want to walk, you’d be better off in a commercial area where there are stores and places like that, one of the officers said. Do you understand what I’m saying?

Yes.

I’m just telling you this for your own good, he remarked before driving away.

What am I doing here? I asked myself as I lay in bed that night. I would rather go visit Janice in Berkeley and spend some time in the Bay Area.

I spoke to the lawyer this morning, my brother informed me. We have an appointment next Wednesday. I think you should stay until then. I want to get this settled as soon as possible. I don’t know how long the probate will take. I just hope it’s a simple and clear-cut matter.

As long as whatever Father left us is evenly divided between us I don’t care what the amount is. Of course, what he should have done was spend it all himself while he was still alive.

Don’t say that! Angelo replied. He wouldn’t have done that.

No. Probably not. He was pretty tight with money. Even when he made a lot, he pretended he didn’t have much.

Haven’t you any respect for the dead?

I think it’s important to tell the truth

Angelo didn’t want to hear any of that from me. He took money seriously and considered my comments flippant. When he was growing up, he had to work for spending money because Father was struggling to make a go of his business

By the time I came along, the restaurant was well established. I was given a substantial allowance, encouraged to study hard, and get a college education. Even though Father tried to equalize things later by giving my brother the restaurant when he retired, I still felt Angelo resented me.

Mother died just after I was born. While I wasn’t responsible, I believe my brother continued to associate my arrival with her sudden departure. He was bothered by my lack of remorse, unwilling to accept my indifference toward someone I had no memory of. What was clearly the loss of a loved one for him was merely the absence of a person I never had the opportunity to know.

My sister-in-law offered me the use of her car the afternoon she was planning to go shopping with a friend. I decided to cruise in Griffith Park, making several rounds along the winding roads in the station wagon before parking to continue my search for s*x on foot.

I spent nearly an hour wandering through the wooded area pursuing several men and being pursued by others without finding anyone mutually attracted, when I caught a glimpse of someone with dark hair and red shorts moving in the bushes. From a distance, he seemed quite handsome, young with smooth, light brown skin, and a lean frame. I wasn’t disappointed when I got closer.

He stopped as I approached him, a beautiful Latino man. We stood facing each other. I ran my hand along his shoulder. He reached out to touch the front of my T-shirt. When I put my arms around him and pressed my body against his, I felt his hand rubbing the denim at my crotch. I brushed one of his n*****s with my fingertips and he closed his eyes and sighed.

It wasn’t long before my shirt was off and my jeans were pulled down along with his shorts. He licked my body, gradually lowering his head until he was on his knees in front of me. After I came, we changed places.

That was great! I said when it was over.

Thanks, he replied, leaning forward to kiss me again.

He had pulled up his shorts and I was tucking my shirt back into my jeans.

You’re a beautiful man!

You like Chicanos.

If they’re hot like you.

He smiled.

I love your long hair and beard.

It’s yours, I said jokingly as we walked toward the road where our cars were parked.

We embraced and kissed a final time before emerging from the bushes.

Have a good day, he said.

You too, I replied smiling.

Even though we spent a relatively brief time together making love in the park, I felt very good about the intense physical and emotional exchange with him.

The following morning Angelo, Thalia, and I got into the Cadillac and headed toward the Wilshire District. Traffic was light, since it was after the rush hour and before lunch. We were seated at a table in a small conference room of a tenth floor suite with windows overlooking the Hollywood Hills. Not only was the estate to be evenly divided between my brother and me but we would each receive a sizeable amount after taxes and legal fees were deducted.

Why don’t you invest your share? Angelo asked me back at the house.

The two of us sat in the living room while Thalia prepared dinner and the kids were playing outside by the pool.

I’m not interested in the stock market. I don’t want my money going into a war I don’t support, I replied.

If we put our money together, we could open up a second restaurant.

I’m really not interested in the restaurant business, Angelo.

It’s hard work but there’s money to be made with the right place. People have to eat and, if you give them what they want, you can make enough to retire at an early age.

Is that what you want?

Sure. After I make a million or two I can take a trip around the world. Why not? I’ve put my time in. Why shouldn’t I enjoy the good life while I’m still young?

Do you like what you’re doing?

When things are running smoothly, which isn’t often enough. Other times I hate it, the time it takes, all the things that need to be done.

Then why don’t you slow down instead of taking on more work for yourself? Live the life you want now instead of in the future.

I have bills to pay: the car, the house, the business, and more taxes every year. You know, raising a family is expensive. Besides I haven’t made my first million yet!