Camaleón

The Jesse Era-1

THE JESSE ERA

Camaleónes have a natural ability to blend into their surroundings to hide from predators

THE TRAIN TO LOS ANGELESThe five-fifteen train to Los Angeles arrived right on time. The Sonoran Desert sun hid behind a thick cotton blanket of puffy monsoon clouds, and the air was hazy with the aroma of blooming scents. The world seemed in a temporary reprieve from the heat and radiance characteristic of the border cities of Douglas and Agua Prieta that late summer of 1960.

Carlos walked toward the train’s westbound platform with his mother Blanca’s arm around him. Tulio, his best friend, carried one of two bags with all his worldly possessions, and Bonita, his older sister, wiped tears from her eyes.

Young Carlos, fourteen, falsely accused of accosting a prominent doctor in a men's room, was headed to a boarding school in Los Angeles. Gossip spread like wildfire in the small border town until Facundo, his conservative cattleman father, disinherited and banished him from town. Blanca filed for divorce taking half of her husband's fortune, allowing her to send Carlos to a boarding school. His destination was no coincidence. He hoped to reunite with his secret love, Jesse, in Los Angeles.

"I'll send my address as soon as I know it," Carlos said to everyone. "Leave all of this behind," Blanca said, "What happened here, leave here, just like snakes shed their skin, never once looking back. Love us, forgive us, wish us well but leave us behind," said a tearful Blanca. Carlos replied, "If you talk to Papa, tell him, no matter what, he will always be my Papa."

Her eyes welling up, Blanca said something Carlos would not forget, "Don’t choose. You don't have to be any one thing, be everything." Unable to withhold her tears any longer, she hugged him, whimpering, "Adios, piece of my heart."

Carlos hugged Bonita goodbye. Tulio produced a brown paper bag with a Hershey chocolate, a pack of Cool cigarettes, and a lighter. "For the trip," said Tulio in a shaky voice, distraught about losing his best friend and the only gay person he knew. "Gracias, I will write you, Tulio."

"Right now, I wish I was your boyfriend and not just your friend," Tulio said, a mascara tear running down his cheek. "Nah, because if we broke up," Carlos observed, "You would never speak to me again. This way, we’ll be together forever."

"All aboard, Tucson, Yuma, San Diego, and Los Angeles. All aboard!" announced the conductor. Carlos hugged Tulio as the train whistled the last call. Tulio kissed Carlos on the cheek. Carlos smiled and kissed him back, "Farewell, my brother."

He boarded the train and took a window seat facing Blanca, Bonita, and Tulio, who watched him from the platform. The train suddenly jerked forward, and they began following Carlos’ window, Blanca making the sign of the cross in the air until the train left them behind. Except for Tulio, who ran to keep up with Carlos. "Remember," Tulio yelled with frustration, "I know the truth. I know what really happened," he panted, "I'll always know the truth." Carlos kept his eyes on Tulio, his open hand against the window until he disappeared.

* * *

ST. IGNATIUS COLLEGE PREPSt. Ignatius required students to arrive wearing the school uniform. Brother Thomas quickly spotted Carlos' blue blazer and red tie at the Los Angeles Train Terminal as he struggled off the train with his suitcases. He came up to Carlos and said, "Welcome to Los Angeles. Are you Carlos?"

"Yes, sir," replied Carlos.

"Or should I say, bienvenido? I'm Brother Thomas, your academic and spiritual guide."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," Carlos said, shaking his hand. The brother turned and walked towards the station’s exit, and Carlos began to follow. They arrived at a station wagon parked on the curb with St Ignatius Prep School printed on the door. The brother opened the station wagon hatch looking around distractedly, waiting on Carlos. Perspiring in his coat and tie, Carlos felt his stomach queasy. He stood by the side of the car, hoping his stomach settled. Then took a deep breath and loaded his bags onto the station wagon. That effort made him feel hot, clammy, and vulnerable. He leaned to one side, and without notice, he threw up on the ground. "Whoa, keep it away from the car," said the brother as Carlos heaved repeatedly.

They stood waiting for the urge to subside. The brother handed him a box of Kleenex from the car's dashboard. "I'm sorry. Suddenly, I just had to throw up," Carlos said, taking a handful of Kleenex, wiping his mouth, and watering eyes.

"You feel better now?" asked the brother.

"Yes, better," Carlos replied, embarrassed.

"In that case, let's head to the campus so you can lie down."

They took Alameda Street and drove onto the freeway. Carlos spotted the Hollywood sign and remembered the fantasy of seeing the famous sign with Tulio - how he missed him. "May I roll my window down a little?" Carlos asked, feeling flushed and drowsy. "Yes, go ahead."

Two hundred-plus day students and thirty boarders attended St. Ignatius College Preparatory. Brother Thomas ensured the boarding students followed a discipline of classes, study hall, meals, and prayer during the week. On Saturdays, the boarding students were free to go off-campus and visit relatives. Saturdays would be the perfect opportunity to search for Jesse, Carlos’ main reason for coming to St Ignatius in the first place. "Do you like going to the beach, Carlos?" asked the brother, making small talk, his eyes on the road. "There's no beach where I live, sir," Carlos replied. "Call me brother, not sir," the brother corrected, "That's right, you come from the border, don't you? Did you attend a Catholic grammar school?”

"I graduated from Loretto School with Dominican nuns."

"Do you have brothers and sisters?"

"I have a sister, Bonita, eight years older than I am," he replied.

"You can also say she is eight years older than me," the brother corrected, "Now, your dad does what exactly?" asked the brother. Carlos wondered how he would refer to his father now, "My father’s a cattleman," he mumbled.

"Oh, then you must have a ranch."

"Well, my father does."

"Carlos, anything your father has, you have also," said the brother, unknowingly reminding Carlos it wasn’t so. The brother noticed Carlos’ silence and said, "Your good upbringing shows. You’re just the type of boy St Ignatius turns into a future leader, a model family man, husband, and father. You’ll eventually send your kids to St. Ignatius. Just wait and see."

"Yes, brother."

Carlos sat quietly, and the brother said, "Carlos, everyone’s a little tense when they first get here. I’ll show you to your room and introduce you to Shiv, your roommate. He also is not American. He is Indian." Hearing himself labeled as not American added another degree of separation between young Carlos and his strange new world. "Unpack, lie down for a bit, go to your school orientation, and then on to dinner," instructed the brother.

The dormitory was a two-story building with a library and study hall where the boarding students agonized each night from six to nine. The dorm rooms on the second floor had two beds, two desks with chairs, and two narrow closets with drawers. There was a recreation room with sofas, a black and white television, a pool table, board games, and a payphone against the wall. On the other end were the restrooms and a large, tiled room with eight shower heads from the wall offering no privacy to the bather. Brother Thomas' room was at the end of the hall by the front entrance. Lights out was at nine o'clock when the brother locked the doors to the dorm, allowing no access after dark.

Shiv, Carlos' roommate, was a gentle boy who looked as out of place as Carlos felt. His polite ways reminded Carlos of the affected mannerisms of upper-class Mexican snobs. Brother Thomas explained he paired them as roommates because neither was like the other boys and, therefore, should get along.

After unpacking his suitcases, Carlos and Shiv sat through orientation, listening to their daily routine, and expected behavior. Later, Carlos picked through his first taste of boarding school corn-beef hash. He took his first-night shower alone, wondering how he might fare when a naked boy stood beneath every shower head. Before calling it a day, brother Thomas checked on Carlos and plunged the dorm into darkness.

That first night lying in bed, he shuddered at the thought of not finding Jesse. He turned his back to Shiv's bed so his pillow could soak silent tears rolling down his cheeks. He prayed for the strength to withstand his desire for the other boys. His small-town ways had no place at St. Ignatius, where it was every man for himself. Blanca's parting words burned in his heart, "Look straight ahead, don't look back. Love us, forgive us, wish us the best but leave us behind."

The following morning, Brother Thomas handed Carlos a letter, explaining it had arrived a couple of weeks before, and he held onto it until his arrival. The envelope had Loretto School stamped on the return address. Probably a note from Sister Anne wishing him well, Carlos thought. He opened the envelope and found a second envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting. The bell for classes rang as he stood examining the writing. Walking to class, he opened the second envelope and found a plain sheet of ruled notebook paper with a message in pencil that read: Carlos. Here’s my phone number in L.A. Dial 213, then 759-3670. I didn’t know where to write. Maybe Sister Anne can get it to you. I hope you get this. Jesse.

* * *

FINALLY, JESSEAs the boarding students prepared to leave for the weekend, Carlos stalked the payphone, waiting for a chance to dial Jesse. He pretended to watch television and then quickly ran to the payphone when the moment was right. His fingers trembled, slipping the dime into the payphone and looking around for eavesdroppers. He couldn’t risk anyone listening to his conversation with Jesse.

He heard the coin drop, a clicking sound, and finally, the ring of a phone on the other end. His heart raced, and his mouth felt dry.

"Hel-lo," answered a woman’s voice in a husky tone.

"Hello, is this Jesse’s home?"

"So?" the voice replied indifferently.

"It is? May I speak with Jesse, please? I am his friend from Douglas, Carlos."

"Not here," replied the woman curtly.

Guessing it was Jesse’s mother, who knew Douglas felt good to Carlos. "Is this Jesse’s mom? How are you, ma’am?" After a long pause, she asked, "What do you want?"

"Could you please tell him Carlos called and will call again?"

"Who?"

"Carlos—Carlos Casavantes from Loretto School. I’m his friend. His good friend."

He heard a click, and the phone went dead.

Early the next morning, with Shiv still sound asleep, Carlos quietly returned to the payphone and dialed Jesse’s number. The phone rang several times before Jesse’s groggy voice came on, "Hello?" said Jesse.

"Jesse, it’s Carlos! I’m here in L.A. and—"

"Where are you exactly—the cross streets?" Jesse interrupted.

"St Ignatius College Prep on Duquesne and Jefferson."

"Be outside in twenty minutes. Bring a swimsuit," and hung up.

Carlos stood outside the school’s main entrance in his khaki shorts, his swimsuit underneath. He fought the urge to tear up hearing the rumble of Jesse’s motorcycle approaching. Jesse took off his helmet and bumped Carlos’ head with his in a gesture of affection. Carlos was teary-eyed, but Jesse overlooked it. "You are one brave son of a b***h," Jesse said, squeezing Carlos’ shoulder, then added, "Everything’s gonna be okay." He handed Carlos a helmet, "Come on, let’s go." Carlos held onto Jesse as they wove their way in and out of Saturday morning traffic toward Playa del Rey beach.