I wish he were here

Hi, my name is Albert, and I want to tell you an incredible story…

It was at 08.15 on a rainy Friday night at southern California. I had stopped by a 7-Eleven gas station on my way to the city of Brentwood from Long Beach, just before to entering the Freeway. There, besides filling the tank, I bought some candy, chips, dips, wine and beer. Then, once I returned at the wheel, I headed northbound, to meet my beloved Brenda.

Brenda was 35 years-old plastic surgeon doctor, tall, shapely body by diet and the early-morning exercises’ culture, with a sensual, thin and symmetrical face, accordingly with their profession. She had brown hair and green eyes, with a slightly tanned and well-cared skin… oh yeah. She was a perfect California girl. We had begun a lovely relationship a little over a year ago. A few months after she helped me to solve a terrible physical problem of smallness of my manhood, which, unfortunately, couldn’t save my first marriage, at that time, because love and respect of that relationship had already disappeared. Brenda was also divorced from her husband and partner of the clinic; they both ran because she wanted to have children, but her husband certainly not to. Brenda knew also that soon she would be physically unable to have them… Therefore, she reached the point of divorce.

As a result, we both slide down to end together in the same sea of loneliness, from different paths of our amatory failure. A factor that wasn’t enough to begin a relationship between us, unless we hadn’t liked each other since the beginning, when we met at her office. Nevertheless, we restrained our own feelings by the marital commitment, even though it was falling apart, and we respected it at that time. Notwithstanding, desire overflowed when the barriers vanished between us. In that way was born, little by little, this shared love sentiment.

We had left behind The Clubs parties and the “Friday nights of corruption” celebrations months ago in the relationship we were building. If we were not living together, it was because we still wanted to keep our independence until the due time, also, because Brenda wanted to wait for the wedding and the Opening the house that we already had prepared. But, sex was on holding too? No way, Jose. Not at all. We did it since the first moment we were informally free, and after a few hugs and kisses, either in her apartment, in mine or in a hotel when we were out of town on the weekends… But she was careful to do not get pregnant, until to be sure that I would be her lifetime man and an excellent father to her genes, inherited and shared with mine in a new being. Therefore, sex, wedding celebration and marriage were not prerequisites for sharing a family life… and she knew it. Therefore, this early morning I had gotten a Brenda’s phone called to my office.

“Yes, Albert. I’m ready, the time is right… I want to get pregnant tonight.”

Driving down on the freeway, heading to Brentwood, many memories came to my mind. I remembered, for an instant, my failed efforts to get pregnant with the woman of my first marriage and the subsequent result of frustration with verbal abuse by insults for my physical incapacity and, consequently, my extreme depression that made me lose any possibility to get an erection before her. The psychological trauma was so serious that neither Viagra nor the extra inches solved it, because the problem was not physical but mental. “You must be operated … -the psychotherapist, who treated me, said and added- … It is the root of all your failures. Actually, dangling around with three inches you will be very unhappy the rest of your life. However, fortunately, there is a cure now.” And he sent me to see a plastic surgeon: Brenda.  

She solved the  problem adding 6 more to the few that I had. “Won’t be too much, Doctor?” I said when we talked about it before the surgery. “No… -she said-… It is never too much, but I advise you caution and be careful in your intercourse relationships. Size is important for fertilization, but is not all, because, for the enjoyment, there are many other ways to get it.” Then, months later, she arranged my heart and pride also with a tenderness that became true love.

It also came to my mind the responsibility that I was going to assume. “A marriage itself, I could break it whenever I liked… -I thought-… It won’t be impossible to split the assets acquired during the relationship and then leave away. Nevertheless, a new being of my own flesh and blood would be something abysmally different to leave behind. Because, once the baby is born, I could never withdraw my genes from him or her, and, consequently, the responsibility for their upbringing, education… and love in the process.” It is clear that my thought would be true only, as a father, if I were a well human being or animal… because neither of these abandons their offspring.

However, this responsibility does not overwhelm me at all; on the contrary, it made me see life from a perspective of a better future. Yes, actually, I had never made love in a rational manner. I mean, consciously and deliberately to procreate, except for the traumatic time I told before, but simply carried away by the heat of passion and pure pleasure … at least mine. But, what about my occasional partner’s orgasms? Mmm … I don’t doubt that many of those screams and moans were faked, not counting those gotten by other tricks and gadgets, if she allowed it, because about hardness and lasting it wasn’t waned.

Then, I thought about Brenda, and I figured her out as the couple that completed my life. I imagined her losing her delicate figure for the wished pregnancy, and I valued her in another dimension. Something I’d never done with anyone in my life, and this it was the particular way to say: “I love you,” to be willing to create something of my own deep inside of her. Yes, I loved her, and I was sure that she loved me too.

The signal: “Exit to Brentwood…  1/2 mile,” made me more aware of driving my truck. I made a right turn getting off the freeway, but the wet asphalt was extremely slippery for the first heavy rain of the winter season, so my truck slid around like a spinning top, crashed against the edge of the curb and got me out the road to go, stumbling over the  ramp, and finally stop.

“Oh, my god. Fortunately, I didn’t roll over, it would have been fatal.” I said, trying to start the engine of my truck again… and when I got it, I happily went to make love to Brenda… to give my child alive.

“A man, is a little man…!” I heard the doctor said when she was grabbing the newborn and wrapping it in a blanket. Then she gave the baby to the suffering mother, while I was staring at them, in silence, from a corner of the delivery room.

“Your name will be like your father, Albert …-Brenda told to the little one, and with tears in her eyes she added-… I wish he were here.”

I’LL SEE YOU IN MY DREAMS

I’LL SEE YOU IN MY DREAMS is the story of Rose, a woman with extrasensory powers, which is prey of strange experiences during her dreams, and looks for her missing son in the labyrinth of life and death. I’LL SEE YOU IN MY DREAMS is an incredible story of life, love and adventures.

The story of  I’LL SEE YOU IN MY DREAMS goes from the sunny beaches of the southern California to the legendary archaeological ruins of the Inca’s empire in Cuzco.

A tale told from a particular point of view: confronting the magical world of what we generally think is impossible, but it happens in reality, with the formal logic of science; in which the author combines the rules of the novel with those from the screenplay to make a thriller story.

The novel, I’LL SEE YOU IN MY DREAMS, will catch you from its first pages, because is notorious the arduous work of the author to write the story in an easy and coherent way to reach the enjoyment and pleasure of the readers.

A novel that looks for sharing with the readers real experiences that many times we refuse to accept.

THE UNFORGETTABLE PARTY

“Yes, this is a great party, and we are the host…” Jim Brown, a strong and mature man, said to himself.

“My God, a lot of people have gathered to welcome us!” He exclaimed in his thoughts while he was looking at the yard from the second floor window of his parents’ house. In the courtyard were many people talking and laughing. They all were relatives and friends.

“As soon as my wife and daughter arrive, we’ll come out to the yard to greeting them,” Jim said to himself, looking at his watch. He had come before his family to coordinate the arrangements of the welcome party.

Then, he began to recognize everyone and started babbling each guest names, besides the precise relationship that he had with each of them.

“John, Peter, Charles, Mary… -and he stopped going on mentioning the names-… My Goodness!… –he exclaimed-… almost everyone from my school’s Promo is here… and so the teachers!”

“Robert!… My older brother, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you since you left us” Jim whispered watching him at the corner of the yard very busy with the barbecue grill.

He also saw several children who he didn’t recognize, playing in the pool.
Then, his eyes sparked. “Beatriz!” The name came out from his lips abruptly when he saw a beautiful woman. She was his dream lover from youth, with whom he would have married if it wouldn’t have been for the circumstances, but he never forgot her.

His parents and his wife’s parents were there also. They were doing the supervising and directing the waiters to achieve that everything should be in order, as planned. Moreover, from time to time, they were welcoming the newcomers and to talk to them briefly until they felt comfortable in the party.

Suddenly, his father turned his head and looked at the window of the second floor, exactly where he was watching it, and their eyes met at the distance. It was like a muted sign, because Jim understood that his wife and daughter were about to arrive.

Jim came down the stairs and got out to the porch of the house to welcome them.

He didn’t have to wait because he saw, not too far away and in a nick of time, a white and radiant limousine coming over a black asphalt home, which stopped just in front of house.

His wife Sophia and her daughter, Sophia Beatriz, got off from the limo and as always, they amazed to Jim with their beauty and aura of energy. Jim, who was smiling and eager to hug them, opened his arms.

“They are waiting for us in the yard!” Jim said, while was grabbing both women around their waist, and the duo started to walk at both sides of him.

“Mom spent too much time in the Beauty shop!” Sophia Beatriz complained and apologized.

The patio’s door opened up widely and the happy trio made their triumphal appearance amid the acclamation of all.

Yes, there were many people. It would be better saying: a crowd; because besides his family and close friends, also were there the baker, the milkman, the paperboy, the meat market butcher, the Chinese man from the corner liquor store and many neighbors more… Yes, a lot people were there, sharing just an exceptional detail: Everyone looked young and healthy, with no worries that disrupt their smiling faces.

Without doubt, this would be the unforgettable party of the Brown family which, even, the memory of those who stayed on earth crying for their depart, would disrupt the celebration welcome to their everlasting happiness.

Peter Nobody

“What’s your first name?”

“Peter”

“And your last name?”

“Nobody”

“What?” The journalist exclaimed.

Hello, my name is Peter, and I’ve got the nickname of “Nobody” for two reasons. First of all, it was because at the age of seven years old, when my mother died, the pimp who pretended to be as my father thrown me out to the street. Why? He needed the room where we used to live in order to continue with his business. Second, because just that year a Spanish song, “Peter Nobody”, of a certain argentine singer named as Piero, was a hit.

Yes, at that tender age I was a “nobody’s son” … Peter Nobody.

Saying, “I’m a street boy”, it’s just a phrase or an empty expression, which means nothing for those who don’t know what is like to be an abandoned boy. I strolled for years and slept in the bleakness of streets until… Did somebody rescue me? No, but until I became a teen.

My only “friends” were other kids like me with whom we organized our gang to make possible our survival, which it meant, steal the everyday bread, all the time. However, we couldn’t make it against stronger people than us, as you can figure out.

So, I learned and developed inside of me the street code behavior. In other words, I grew up with it. And the first point that I had got nailed in my mind was that we should only attack to the weakest. Therefore, I have only assaulted and stolen old people, pregnant women or with the baby in their arms, blind men or lame beggars, or defenseless rich kids too. That was the way, of how I learned to take care of myself.

It’s not a waste of time if I told you that my life wasn’t an amusing adventure, by no means. Therefore, in the beginning, a terrible misfortune marked me forever. One night, as soon as I arrived in the group, the older kids raped me, and they repeated it as many times as they wanted, until I learned how to use my knife and stabbed one, the more aggressive, to make myself respect, and I learned fast.

Not only the coldness and heat of the street life hardened the skin of my body, but also for the beatings that I got from my own friends. Nevertheless, the worse it was from the fights against the enemy bands, or, when my victims or the police caught me.

I learned, from that tender age, that if somebody came closer to me and lifted his hand it was to attack, or even worse, to molest me. Same as a priest of a church, who wanted to do it in exchange of a plate of food and a roof to sleep. Nevertheless, he didn’t imagine that my intuitive self-defense was already shaped and at the first dirty pawed “I sliced” his face with my inseparable and faithful friend: my knife.

Later, when my needs grew up, I mean to drug, we begin to steal bigger people because we needed more money. It was when I began to stand out in the group for my cruelty. I’ve attacked my victims without mercy, without paying attention to the disadvantages for their size or stoutness. With the only advantage that I took, when I stabbed them first, and then, when the victims screamed seeing their own blood and death scared, my gang jumped on them, to robbing and finishing the job.

It was this way, which I became the leader of the gang, but, undoubtedly, and first of all, I had “to take down” the gang boss in a clean fight, surrounded by all and under the moonlight.

In the fight for the leadership, after I received several cuts on the arms, the ‘sonna ma bitch’ fell off in my trap when I pretended to be the weakest to mislead him. His narrow mind trusted on the street code, when I pretended to tumble down.

He believed that the right moment to finish with me had arrived, and when he lifted his arm to give me the final stab, I saw his dark shape of his body between the moon and me, from the ground, I stabbed him first right in his nuts… Did he die? I don’t know and we neither give a shit, because we left him on the ground. We walked away to the near pier by the beach to celebrate with a bag full of glue that we inhaled to feel happy and to avoid the coldness. In that way, I became the leader, and we didn’t know any more about him. Ah, it is not a waste of time to remark; it was he who had led the older kids to rape me the night when I arrived to the group.

At the age of 12 years old I already had my own gang, the one that nobody gave me as a gift but I got it for my dexterity with the knife and my cruelty.

But suddenly something began to change inside me at that age, something that I could not explain, and I didn’t have anybody to ask it. My voice changed, hairs covered my pubis and I began to dream. It was exactly the moment when a 10 years old girl and her little brother arrived to the group, and in the night the gang wanted to rape her. The rape to newcomers was a natural matter for all of us, for our code, being boy or girl, there was no difference, we had passed through it as a baptism… but it wasn’t for me.

“Nobody touch her damned!!!… -I roared, and I took out to shine my knife -… and anyone that gets near to her I’ll stab to death!!!”

“Ok, ok Peter… It’s ok bro… If you want her only for you, it’s ok,” the one that pretend to be my second one in the band said despite being bigger than me.

“Fuck none!!!… From now on not more baptisms in my gang!”

That night I went to sleep away of the group, and I hidden among the darkness I cried. In the coldness of my cardboards and rags bed the image of my mother came to my mind and also of the last teacher that I had in the school.

I remembered that we used to live in a piece of shit hotel room. But it was my home, where my mother made my meals loved me and at the bedtime she tucked me saying: “Little Peter, my sonny boy, dreams with angels”.

Therefore that night I cried, I cried as I’d never done it all these past five years, and among my tears I remembered my school’s friends, my teachers and my games… And I missed them all.

Luckily, I learned to read in the school. Since I lived on the street and I slept in the landfills, I read as much as I could do it. So, I devour with my eyes any piece of newspapers or stories for children every time they fall in my hands.

Therefore, the next day that I forbid the rapes I began to teach reading to my close friends, of course that it was after the assaults. What would you think or expected from delinquent boys as me? Do I have food and roof free? No, I learned that everything has a price in the life and that I have to get it by myself in the only way the society has taught me. And I warn to anyone who dared to come closer to me with the lifted hand, to hit me or to caress me, it will receive a cut in the face… or maybe more.

“Hey, if you wanna talk me… do it from a distance, asshole!!!… or I cut your neck, mother fucker!”

“To be continuing…?” The journalist asked.

“What should we do?” I ask you.

THE VOYEUR TRAIN

Lucrecia... A Gothic girl

When Lucrecia told me that I’d been chosen for hers “First Time” I was surprised by such a designation. Then I thought: “Holly shit; now it is coming the Armageddon.” Although, I’d had this amatory experience many years ago, related to my debut.

Therefore, I decided to be going with the flow. Following her initiative I grabbed her delicate hand sheathed in a thin black silk glove, transparent lace, allowing to be seen only the tips of his fingers.

“Ho, my god, you are burning!” I thought when I met and touched you. Therefore, I decided to drop the two sharp stakes I had on the other hand, which were of wood and silver.

Why I had those stakes with me? Well, just in case, because I grabbed them amid doubts, when I heard the invitation. Lucrecia could be, in her just 20 years old and taking advantage of the virtual anonymity of the contact “Chat”, one of those bugs, not so rare, that seems like a “man”, but sucks blood and something else, and gives a woman’s name. That is what the stakes were for, in case were necessary: the wood one, to stab it in the vampire heart, and if he doesn’t die yet, the silver one will be in the center of it identity, so the “Chupa Cabro” can go to hell happy after all.

“She’s a lady!” I said to myself when I saw her fine face, trying to get a good look through the dark veil that covered her delicate figure, almost letting the two sharp stakes, but suddenly I changed my mind, and I decided to keep it with me.

Lucrecia led me by the hand through the darkness, between trains and cars stranded in a lugubrious Train Station. We were illuminated only by the immense and radiant face of the full moon, cratered as a survivor of a terrible chickenpox, as he spoke in a tone of a complaint about her lover, who besides of having stolen her sleepiness, he took her panties off and something else too.  I do not know why she had to describe it, as if I care. Nevertheless, I concluded that he seemed just like me, from the times when I was very young.

I felt a little disappointed I was not the main character. “So, what the hell am I doing here?” I wondered in silence. However, from the hidden depths of my mind came up the answer: “Aha … I’m a voyeur, and I want to Peeping Tom when you make love”, exposing my suppressed voyeuristic compulsion.

I wanted to ask something, but she did not let me.

“Just hear me out. That, it doesn’t make you my accomplice,” Or, maybe?” She said as an order, but promising much more with a glance.

I followed her in silence, almost against my will, thinking that at any time, Lucrecia would make a turn towards to me and would cut my neck, my hands or my balls, same as she had told me she’d done with her other lovers. Although, I also thought that, like the black widow, she was going to do something very bad to which she would meet. I was terrified, but the compulsive and uncontrollable lustful curiosity to see it fornicating with her lover, and maybe killing him too, made me keep on going no matter what.

Until a train whistle announced its nearness.

We stopped next to the railroad, and she fixed her gaze on the train that was coming pouring smoke and fumes amid a hell of noise.

It was only an instant, like a lightning, when we saw the machinist of the train, looking out the window. His smiling face was young, and I thought I had recognized it as the same as she had described when the train passed in front of us.

“Bang, bang,” resounded in my ears, and I saw a shining gun in her hand sheathed in black lace glove, pointing to the machinist of the noisy and smoky mass of steel.

The sharp stakes fell off from my hand, and I went away, as the machinist of the train, watching from the window how Lucrecia was hugging her young lover.

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