PUERTO PLATA
BY LUIS MIGUEL FUENTES

Luis Miguel Fuentes (born in the Dominican Republic in 1976) began in 1990 to write a large number of short stories, presented as true, about his life as a boy prostitute in New York City (where he had lived from the age of six).  Puerto Plata, apparently set in 2005 and published that year on the since-defunct website Johnny Proudly Presents, is, in its chronological setting, the very last of his known stories.

2005

The winds were blowing hard and the air was sweet. I’d been here for god knows how long. La Republica Dominicana. Dominican Republic. My home of many dreams. My lifetime of so many days and nights. The island of my birth the island of my desires. A lifetime away from a one room wood slat zinc roof house about 30 minutes from Ocoa. A lifetime away of no electric or running water. A lifetime away of sailing paper sailboats in the gutters with Pedro, Ysrael and Juancito. A lifetime away from my first hustles with the german and canadian tourists.

“Señor, $1.00 por favor. Americano. No me importa si por el culo o por boca. Mi cuerpo tiene que traiga leche a me favor! $1.00 por favor! Tengo hambre.”

God. Time sure flies. Sometimes Im glad it does. Sometimes I miss it with the passion of all that is lost. All that is missed. Since I’ve been freed of the bondage of addiction, I’ve grown. I’ve learned. I’ve weeded out the negative aspects of life as much as possible. Here I am standing on the same beach I played on as a small child. The salt is heavy in the air. Waves are smashing off the rocks as awkward sunburned tourists play silly games of bad volleyball on the beach. Playa Dorado.

My house is right up the beach near all of the fancy hotels that were few and far between not so long ago. Old Hotels gone. New ones growing like rampant weeds in a decayed flower garden in front of some abandoned house along any road, any where in the world. Things all over are getting crowded. My life however has been free of clutter for sometime now. I’m enjoying the sunset. The beautiful northern coast sunsets of the Dominican Republic. Taking the time to enjoy the simple things in life that have whizzed by me for so many years. Adonis and Manuel have taken to these beaches and this island as if they werent really inner city tigueres. All of the local kids come looking for them at any given moment. I mean, why not? They are not only beautiful and charismatic, but are funny, have brilliant bright glowing eyes that demand attention and well, let’s not forget they have the most recent of “north american” fashion. It seems as if every kid in the area are wearing one thing or another that my kids have given them at one time or another. Be it a hat, sneakers, a tee shirt, shorts, even some of the necklaces we brought with us from Hawaii.

So much has changed on this island yet so much remains as if it’s suspended in time. Things have grown at an unbelievable rate, yet some things look as if they haven’t changed in 20 years. The same Puerto Rican owners of the chocolate factory most of my family have worked in. Almost the same pay rate as it was 20 years ago. The same rusted water pump at the end of 10th street. [calle diez] that I pumped water from as a small boy. The same shanty town of “Villa Progresso” [progressive village] that I sailed the paper boats down the gutters as did my cousins, friends, brothers, lovers, fathers, mothers, aunts, uncles…you name it. I walk around town in a daze. Seeing kids long grown playing in the park at the “Square” in downtown Puerto Plata. I look at the little ones playing tag and running and as I watch them they turn into Ernesto, Joaquin, and all of early playmates. Living ghosts. Exchanged souls. Time goes so fast but everything sometimes just stands still.

“Daddy, daddy, this is my friend Wilfredo. He said he wanted to meet you.”

I was ripped from my deep melancholy thoughts by the sunshine shooting rays of love from the god sent eyes of my older son Manuel. I smiled back at the two full tooth smiles laid out before me like some jewels in the diamond district. I extended my hand to shake Wilfredos and as he took my hand I pulled him into me and playfully tickled and poked at his squirming sun drenched body. Manuel never missed a cue and danced around him poking his ribs and chest. All of us were laughing. Adonis came running toward us when he saw what he was missing. He ran right to me and I caught him in my arms and lifted him up to the sun like some offering to the gods. I held him high and mighty. This is reason I’m clean. This is the reason I am alive.

By now Wilfredo and Manuel were wrestling on the beach. Throwing each other back and forth and just enjoying being two care free boys. Adonis was still a baby and needed more “daddy” love. He never missed a chance to kiss me or tell me he loves me. Both of my boys are very touchy feely and were raised with alot of affection. Adonis leapt out of my arms and ran over to the two older boys in order to “protect” his brother. He latched on to one of Wilfredo’s legs and made the match an uneven one. I just sat back and laughed. By now another half dozen of the local boys all joined in the fun. They wrestled, play fought, kicked sand at each other until Manuel sprinted for the ocean and all the kids followed. He is a natural leader. They spent the rest of the end of this day just splashing around and playing games in the water.

I started the walk down the beach towards our house. I was being trailed by my kids and some of their friends. This was how it was always. Half of them stayed with us almost daily. They had some sort of unspoken schedule. I gave my kids their space and the freedom to make their own choices. The house is big and there is always plenty of food and things to do. Something most of these kids have done without much of their lives. When we reached the house they all ran in like the tigueritos that they were. They ran into Manuel’s room and soon there was a trail of beach clothes that led to their bathroom down the hall. A huge shower, a risen tub and a jacuzzi all filled these kids with more splashing fun, laughing and horseplay. I could hear Adonis screeching and the others talking wildly and loud and could only imagine the mess that would be in there. More water usually ended up on the floor which is why I had a drain put in the middle of the room. The kids always cleaned up after themselves, which was a bonus and a rarity in this day in age. I started getting rice, plantains and “carne guisdo” in order so I could feed the hungry this troops. I never noticed him standing behind me until he put his hands on my waist. I was startled. I jumped a little and turned to see Wilfredo smiling up at me. I bent down and kissed his mop of curley strands. I asked him in spanish why he wasnt playing with the others and his only answer was that he wanted to help me.

He had an elfish grin and a devilish smile. His dimples accented his face and his hair framed it, making him a perfect masterpiece. His eyes were huge. Light brown and deep. Almost hazel. He looked about 11 but you could never tell with these Dominican boys. I asked him if he wanted me to set him up with the XBox, but he didnt want to play. He was content to help me cook and show off his skills and knowledge around a kitchen. I was happy to have the help. He cut, peeled, and sliced the plantains. He did his chores with the seriousness of a pro. We worked together preparing dinner and small talking. I was getting to know him. Well his personals anyway. I’ve known him forever. As long as I’ve known anyone. I’ve had Wilfredos in and out of my life since I was a boy myself. I knew him well. Now I know about him too. He lives in Santiago with his grandfather who doesnt do much more than drink rum and play dominoes with the vecinos. [neighbors]. He doesn’t go to school, but then again, why would he? School isn’t free around these parts, and if they are poor, there is too much other things that come first, like eating.

I sat down to smoke a Newport. Wilfredo plopped right into my lap and threw his arms around my neck like we did this every day. He kissed me full on the lips and we swapped spit. He held me and didn’t want to let go. I stroked his back and traced small circles on his cheeks and along his face. He closed his eyes and I was almost expecting him to purrrr like a cat. He let his arms go and slid off my lap sitting next to me on the fluffy couch. Wilfredo looked up to me and smiled as he laid his head on my lap and closed his eyes as if to nap. I twisted his curly hair in my fingers and clicked the remote to the stereo. Bachata music began to fill the air. Romantic heartbroken songs of love long lost, deceit, and love fully in bloom.

“…aye, mi mama, que dolor, el que siento yo, mi corazon tiene la culpa…” sang Anthony Santos. So appropriately singing how he didn’t know he fell in love, and blaming it on his heart.

By now the kids have filed out of the bathroom. Most ran into Manuel’s room to play some rounds of Grand Theft Autos San Andreas on PS2. Adonis, being the hungry little crumb snatcher that he is, came running towards the smell of the food cooking itself on the stove.

“Papi, how long till dinner? Oh…sorry! My bad!” And he shuffled away. He didn’t want to disturb the scene of me giving affection to Wilfredo and never got his the answer that his stomach demanded he ask. I stroked Wilfredo’s warm chest and back as he breathed lightly into his dreamy sleep of lullabies and dulce de crema. The gentle touched warmed his heart and soul and allowed him to be secure and relaxed. It was hard to relax in his home with so many uncles, vecinos and strangers roaming in and out. He never knew who would be the next one to call him to do a chore, a task, or a “certain favor.” Thats what he had to expect in his house. A lot of “certain favors.” It gave him the pesos he needed for the pastelitos he loved and the long-necked bottles of coca-cola he drank and then turned into a whistle, a game, a tool, or anything he could imagine until he got his peso back for the deposit.

Wilfredo was a sweet and gentle boy. Something alot of people mistook for something else. Alot of the older boys teased him and ganged up on him calling him names like “maricon” and “pajarito.” The men and teens singled him out for their pleasure, never caring if he wanted to oblige or not. It was what he was used to and what he accepted. He was careful not to make waves. To ripple the water. He learned to walk on his toes and not to rustle the gravel, leaves or anything under his feet. The less people noticed him, the better he was. He pretended to be invisible most of the time. This was his secret world… He loved to draw. To sing. To dance salsa, merengue, but especially bachata. He just knew one day, a fine young prince would ride into his village on a well groomed, immaculate white horse and sweep him off his feet into eternity. The prince and the pauper. He just knew it. He waited patiently for the white horse to come galloping down his dusty street, but was never granted the privilege. All he seemed to see was rusty old banged up motorcycles and scooters put putting their way through the clouds of dust the created.

I woke Wilfredo for dinner. The kids all gathered around and fixed themselves steaming plates of arroz morro and the rest of the food we prepared.

Everyone took seats around the living room and some at the table. We put the t.v. and watched music videos and ate. All the boys helped clean up the kitchen and Wilfredo asked me if he could go lay down. Why would I object? He was worn out from the day playing in the sun, the ocean, and running back and forth down the beach. Plus his life was as stressful as anyone’s, even though he was just a child.

After the dishes were washed, the extra food tucked into the fridge, the kitchen swept and mopped, the other kids filed back into Manuels room for video games and dvds until some went home, and others spent the night. I went to go check on Wilfredo to make sure no one disturbed him. When I stuck my head into Manny’s room, I noticed Wilfredo wasnt on his bed, so I went to Adonis room which resembled a “toy testing” room. Toys were spread out all over the place and on the shelves. There were action figures on the floor. There was obviously some kid of war going on and they seemed as if they were frozen in time. I laughed to myself as the vision of his imagination played itself a movie in my brain. No Wilfredo though. Maybe he decided to go home. It didnt bother me, but he should have at least said good bye.

I walked to the other side of the house where my bedroom was located. I walked past the walk in closets and dressing alcove when I noticed the boy sprawled out on my bed. He was laying diagonally and had stripped to his boxers. I left him undisturbed and turned on the stereo to a soft serenade by Luis Miguel. He sings Romantico in a way no one else dares. I walked through my room to the bathroom and started to run the jacuzzi. I dimmed the lights and lit a few candles I had situated around the edge of the tub. I needed some downtime, and now was it.

Taking off the rest of my things, I climbed in slowly. The water was steaming hot and the buzz of the jets was soothing in its own way. The speakers in the bathroom were singing “Aye Dios” and nothing could have been better in the world. I settled back in the tub and closed my eyes. I must have dozed because the next thing I knew, Wilfredo was lowering himself into the jacuzzi, laying on top of me with his head nestled into my shoulder. I didnt say a word. I just put my around him and on his back and we both enjoyed the peaceful serenity of the moment.

After sometime, I shifted, causing the boy to look up and into my eyes searching for something. He smiled and I smiled back at him. We both sat up and I grabbed the shampoo and washed his loose curls. I lathered it up, gently massaging his scalp as I did it. When I was done, he dunked his head under the water, and I again ran my fingers through his hair to release the mass of suds hidden deep in his locks. Wilfredo sat back up and put some shampoo into his hand. I was watching him, not knowing what he was going to do next. He reached to me and started to wash my hair as I did his. When he finished, I led him from the jacuzzi, in to the shower that was across the bathroom. We went in and washed each other under the spray of the water.

“Why didn’t you play with the other boys, Wilfredo? I didn’t expect to find you in my bed.”

“I wanted to be with you Luis. I can play with them anyday. It don’t matter.”

We stepped out of the shower and dried off. As I started to walk back to the bedroom, he called me.

“Luis, carry me por favor! Can you?”

I never answered him. I just reached down and scooped him up in my arms. He threw his arms around my neck again as I carried him through the small hallway and into the bedroom.

“Where to señor?” I asked.

“Right here! Puedo acostar aqui contigo?” He asked. Asking if he can lay down with me.

“Last STOP! CAMA!” I said as I rolled him out of my arms and onto the bed where he tumbled and laughed. I laid down on the bed with my arms folded behind my head. I clicked the music up a notch, and the BOSE 301’s were doing their job. You could hear every cymbal, snare, horn, even the fingers sliding over the frets on the guitar.

Wilfredo took his place next to me and I put my arm around his neck. He threw one of his legs over mine and was rubbing his foot up and down on my shin. I kissed his forehead and took a deep breath of his freshly washed hair. We were both aroused. He was rubbing himself into my side. I reached behind him and felt his back and where it curved at the bottom. My favorite part. He arched his back and pushed his culo to meet my hands. If I held them still, he would move his butt back and forth to get the pleasure he so desired.

Don’t ask if we slept that first night because you know we didn’t. Oh yeah, maybe we took some cat naps, but we woke up a million times and made love a thousand. It was funny, because the next morning I climbed out of bed pretty early because my horses were used to being fed and trotted at certain times and I was a creature of habit as well. I was standing in front of the stable just looking at the mother and her babies. I turned and Wilfredo looked at my horses and smiled up at me. He jumped up and threw his arms around me. I wrapped my hand under his bare bottom and supported him as he planted a million sweet kisses on my face and whispered in my ear, “My Prince!”