The Worm Digger and I

I continue peddling. As I reach the forest, far at the distance, I see his truck. I peddle faster and my heart beats happily. I don't care if the cops are there, hidden behind the bushes. At least I'll take a last look at him. Then I can live a happy life back home, knowing we did have some good times together before the betrayal. I see him waving and bitting a grass stem. I smile and wave.

"Carlito! Nice to see you again!" We hug. "You've been crying?" He wipes a tear from my face. I nod.

"Bob, I must tell you something." He spits out the grass stem.

"Sure." He looks down and we both sit by the edge of the empty road. This man looks bigger when he's sitting.

I tell him the whole story. I talk about Caroline, Bernardo, of his slamming the door shut and drawing up his curtains. I even mention to him the scare I got seeing the police car race by me on the road, and also fearing, deportation.

As I tell him my story, I feel his strong hand on my shoulders. He kisses my head and I see a tear in his eye too. This strong confident man, crying because of my stupid tale, of our misfortunes, which have nothing to do with his distant beautiful world.

"I-I really feel sorry for Caroline. I really do, my Carlito." He purses his lips. "And I understand how your friend Bernardo must be feeling. And by no means, you're not betraying your kin, Carlito. You're just being caught between two realities that are quite harsh and conflicting." I nod silently. "But what has hurt me the most, was that you thought," he looks away. I put my hand on his big shoulder.

"Bob, intimately, I know you'd never do such a thing. The Virgin told me to trust you." He turns to me and smiles.

"Then you made the right choice by trusting the Virgin, my friend." I nod. "You're also a great friend, Carlito. And a decent one, to open up your heart and share your feelings with a stranger."

"You're not a stranger to me, Bob. You're also a friend, if you allow me to call you that." He grins.

"I'm glad to hear that, Carlito." We embrace and I feel my heart at peace. Deep inside, I know I'm doing the right thing. I just hope that Bernardo may one day understand the way I feel about this whole situation.

"Well, are we going to catch worms today or not, Carlito?" We both smile.

Bob and I go to another secret spot of his. On this particular one we find a lot of worms. At the bait store, he amasses $415! All people's attention are turned to us. He says he's got the exellent catch because of my help.

He then says he wishes to celebrate by taking me to his place. He warns me that his house is old and dirty, for he is a bachelor. His older brother used to live with him but they used to fight all the time; then he left.

"You see, Jeremy is a cop and a year older than me. So, he thinks he can boss me around, "Bob do the dishes! Bob clean up the toilet! Bob bring me a beer! Bob, the laundry pile is getting high and I have no fresh underwear to put on!'" He stops the truck by some rusty gate.

"Bob, what does this sign mean?"

"KEEP OUT, PRIVATE PROPERTY? It means, keep you ass out of my property if you're not invited."

"Oh, I see." After we cross the gate, I see in the back, among green lush tall trees, his large old house. "An American house!" I gasp. He chuckles.

"Yeah, what did you expect, a German house? Ahahahaha!"

"There are two floors! You must be rich, Bob! And you said you live here alone!"

"Me rich? You've got to be kidding me, my friend! A worm digger and construction worker like me barely make ends meet." He chuckles. "I bet you make more money than I do picking apples and other fruit, Carlito!"

"Me? I think I get paid well, but, we get discounted a lot, Bob."

"Fuck! I bet those coyotes exploit you, don't they?" I nod. "Anyway, you're right I live like a king in this big place. America is the best country to live in! I love living here. You can shit with your door open, walk in your briefs or naked in the house, burp, and no one to bug or boss you around." He stops the truck.

"Your flower beds need water, Bob."

"I know, Carlito. But hey, I've got two jobs and have no time for even showering or wipping my ass!" I begin to laugh. "What's so funny, Carlito?"

"You said you're so busy that you don't shower or wipe your ass! Ahahaha!"

"Hey, I like to see you laughing!" I also notice the cobwebs on the ceiling, walls, everywhere I turn to. The old couch is covered in dust. The front porch is filled with dead leaves. "Come in! You don't need to take off your shoes!" He opens the door and we enter his large and dark living room. I can hardly believe how big it is.

"An American house!"

Seldom have I been to an American house. Only once, when I was told to fetch wood for this American family who was in charge of the workers. But I wasn't allowed to go inside. But I saw through the window their beautiful living room. Other than that, only in the movies.

Bob then invites me to his large and messy kitchen. He washes his hands in one of the two sinks he has! I also wash, and he hands me a dirty tea towel to dry my hands.

He opens his fridge and I gasp, for I have never seen so much food. I look around the wall covered in cupboards. In one he opens and takes out a porcelain plate. I see stacks of them. I gasp as I see its full contents: saucers, cups, bigger plates, bowls, even porcelain teapots. He opens another one and I see a lot of silverware, knives, forks, spoons, spatulas, ladles, tongs, skewers. He takes a large tin and takes a loaf of bread and cuts in thick slices.

He prepares a large sandwhich. He puts roastbeef, cheese, mayo, mustard, pickles, a lettuce leaf, and tomato slices. He hands me my plate of sandwhich and I cannot believe how big that is. He hands me a glass of milk and we sit by the messy kitchen table. He eats in big bites and smiles.

"Aren't you eating, Carlito?"

"This sandwich is too big for my mouth, Bob." He chuckles.

"No wonder you're so slim. You've got to open your mouth like this!" He opens his big mouth. I bite my sandwich and feel the delicious taste. It taste so much better than the cheap bologna and sliced bread kind I always eat at home. One slice per sandwich. The package then lasts me a whole week. When I'm lucky, I have a cup of instant noodles. I chew the soft tasty bread, the condiments, and the pickle. "Do you like it, Carlito?" I nod, chew my food, and swallow.

"Yes, Bob." I explain to him what I usually eat at home.

"What? Two slices of industrialized bread and a slice of bologna? No mayo, mustard, pickle, lettuce, tomato?" I shake my head. "And what do you drink? Apple juice?" He chuckles.

"No. I drink tap water. But they said it's not good, for the water tank is not clean. But I boil it first. I can't afford to buy juice."

He finishes his sandwich, while I'm still in the middle of it. He takes an apple pie from the fridge and a pot of cream.

"I hope you still have some space left for dessert in your big bird's stomach, my little friend." He slices his pie and puts some cream on the top. He then brews some coffee and pours that in a large mug with milk and sugar. He eats and drinks merrily. "How old are you, anyway?" He drinks his coffee and has cream on his moustache. I take a cloth and dab it for him. He chuckles. "You're like my mother, Carlito!" He chuckles again.

"I've just turned eighteen last month."

"Holy fuck! You're just a child! Oh, what manners! Congratulations on your birthday, Carlito!" He gives me a big hug. "Oh, boy! When I feel you in my arms, you're so slim and small. You're so vulnerable and fragile, Yet, you're strong and courageous. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, so far away from your loved ones. I really admire you for that. By the way, where's your family? Are you here on your own?" I shake my head.

"I'm from a small poor town in Brazil.

It's hard to find jobs there, and we're scared of violence. I have four brothers; my two older ones were killed by drug dealers." I look down.

"Where they involved in trafficking or smuggling drugs?" I nod.

"Smuggling it, Bob. They had no choice. Mom and dad were desperate and wanted to send us abroad at all costs. My little sister was too young to come. So, they managed to borrow some money to give to a famous coyote, who especialized in working with illegal immigrants. With the little money I got from the sales of popsicle, bananas, candies, and recyclables, we got part of the money. But this coyote said I could pay to his company when I got to America. I came with some people from my town, but we all got separated. Some travelled in the back of trucks, boats, trains. Anyway, I have only one good friend here, and his name is Bernardo. I know other people, but they never stay long in the same place, you know."

"Jesus, what a mess! I know as a fact there are lots of illegal workers all over America. But hearing that from one, about your struggles and stories, gives me a different perspective, Carlito. How long have you been here?"

"It's been almost a year. I-I haven't spoken to my folks for that long. We only send each other letters, which is cheaper."

"Christ! You can't be serious? I haven't spoken to my brother since yesterday, and I'm already missing that son-of-a-gun! He's my only family around. Both my parents are already gone. We have no contact with our relatives. Jeremy sometimes gets invited to a cousin's place. They wouldn't want to see me. Not after I broke that son-of-a-gun's nose and lower jaw."

"But why did you do that, Bob? Isn't he part of your family?"

"Part of my family my ass! He called me a fag and I taught him a lesson. Anyway, except for Jeremy, I'm almost flying solo, just like you, my friend." At last I finish my sandwich. "I don't suppose you have room left for dessert, do you?" I shake my head. "Good, now we'd better wash ourselves. Otherwise, how are we going to take a nap." He calls me upstairs.

The stairs are wide and I gasp as I see so many paintings on the wall. He walks along the hall and opens his bedroom door. I cannot believe how big his bedroom is! I touch his large unmade bed and the soft sheets. I look at his night table, chairs, large mirror, large closet, a dresser, a mat, lamps, a ceiling fan. He opens another door and says it's his bathroom.

"You have your own bathroom in your bedroom!" He chuckles again.

"Well, yeah. I guess this house must look like a mansion to you. Do you like it?" I nod.

Then, he proudly says there are four bathrooms in the house! He calls me and I enter the large lit bathroom. I cannot believe it when I see a bathtub, a large stone sink, golden faucets, a large mirror, a shower place, a lot of bottles of cologne, shampoo, cream, conditioner, shaving cream, shaving lotion, Vaseline, and other toiletries. He turns to me and remains serious.

"Do you want to shower with me, Carlito?" I feel his large hairy hands on my shoulders.

"Yes, Bob." He removes his stained white cotton sleeveless shirt. His arms, shoulders, and neck are hairy and tanned. His heavy muscular chest is white and covered in hair. His belly is large and also white and hairy. He helps me remove my own brown shirt. He licks his lips and smiles. He then undoes his buckle. I like the silver buckle and notice the cowboy pattern on. One day I hope to buy a nice belt just like his one.

He undoes the button of his denin pants and lowers his zippers. I look at his stained jeans. I bet it's the original model, and not the thin cheap kinds we get back home. He lowers his jeans and shows his large stained white briefs. I notice that everything in his body is big. He lifts a leg then the other, but remains in his stained white socks. He lowers his large briefs and I notice it's partly soiled. I look at his cock and gasp.

"Your cock is different, Bob." He chuckles.

"What do you mean, different?" He takes the long fat sex and gives it a shake. He also holds his large balls. "Let me see yours then!" He folds his arms and smiles. I feel conscious of him watching me strip. I bet he's already figured out my jeans are just a cheap imitation. I drop my thin old jeans, and my briefs. "You're uncut! Like most latinos! Ahahaha! That's what you meant by different!" Now I understand the difference.

"Why are you looking at me funny, Bob?"

"You're so young and slim. C-can I touch you?" I nod. "Do you want to touch me too?" I nod. "Then why don't you touch me? Don't be shy, here, feel my chest, and belly." He licks his lips and moans.

"You're a big man, Bob. You have a big neck, your shoulders are so big. You arms are very strong. And your chest is so strong too." He approaches me and takes me in his arms. I feel his warm firm body pressed against mine as he kisses my head.

"I-I guess I'm a faggot after all. But who wouldn't, having a young naked angel right in front of me." He smiles. "You don't want to kiss me, boy?" I smile and kiss him lightly on his lips. He takes my cheeks with both large callused hands and kisses me again. I feel his large tongue invading my mouth. As he embraces me again, I feel his cock pulsing and pressing hard against me. My cock also responds and it also gets hard. It's the same burning feeling I have when I jack off at home, thinking of Bernardo. "Shall we take a shower, my love?" I smile.

"I like it when you call me love."

"And you don't love me?" I smile and shake my head. "No?" He frowns his thick brows.

"I like you, as a friend. Bob. And the first time I saw you, I couldn't take you out of my mind. The second time that we met, when I helped you come out of that hole, I just realized that I could become friends with an American. Then, back to fruit picking, I was happy for I had met a nice American man. I knew then that not all American people were mean. I felt proud of being with you. I felt I would suffer if I ceased seeing you. I missed you all week and longed to see you again."

"Oh, Lord! So you thought about me!" I nod.

"Yes, Bob. But why do you say you love me? We can never be together. We can never be like those people in the movies, who fall in love with each other, then get married." He chuckles.

"You're already thinking of marriage, Carlito?" I look down. He clears his throat and apologizes. "I'm sorry, Carlito. I didn't mean to sound disrespectful and hurt your feelings." I nod.

"Bob, when I was in Brazil, I grew up with the other kids, playing on the streets. Then I used to see teens holding hands. Once I saw them kissing, just like in the movies. Then as I became a teen myself, I also used to dream of meeting someone special, going out together, having 'quentão' during the cold winter nights." I explain to him quentão is a drink made of sugar cane liquor, sugar, cinamon stick, clover, and ginger heated in a pan. "Then we would visit each other's families, go to church together, get engaged, get married, and then, have sex." He looks down and folds his arms.

"We also do these things here, Carlito." He smiles. "I suppose you're the old-fashioned type, which I find very special."

"But some people in my town skip some of these steps and just wish to have fun and sex before they get married. And some never get married."

"You mean, have fun and sex for the sake of it, just like I'm proposing to do to you?" His voice dies down.

"But with us, it's something special. You're an American, I am a Latino. We come from different worlds. And our future is very uncertain. In my heart, I feel you're," I look down. He lifts my chin. "You're the right man for me, Bob. You're different and kind." I smile.

"And you're just the sweetest child I've ever met, Carlito." He grins and strokes my face. "In the past I used to think of girls, just like my brother. But I never got to go out with them, for I felt too clumsy and shy. My friends think I'm just shy, an introverted, a homebody. But, intimately, I've always known that I've loved young boys. And the first time I saw you, I felt like a hungry wolf before his easy prey." He shakes his head.

"I felt I needed to grab and take you by force. I wanted to just make you do things for me, rape you, and abandon you by the ditch. But then, I saw how fragile and innocent you were. It wouldn't be acceptable for a big man like me to do such a shameful act. I also have my conscience and morals, Carlito. And yet, you see, I'm a dirty, isolated, clumsy, and idiotic man in American standards. No wonder my brother is always pulling the wool over my eyes." He takes a towel and covers his big waist. Then, he takes another one and covers my body.

"I must confess something to you, Carlito. Oh, boy, have I suffered with you in my head all night long. Just last night, I've came in my briefs three times in a row in bed, thinking of this moment. Oh, boy! I suppose I'm cursed. You've cast a spell on me. I can't get you off my mind." He smiles while his tears begin to fall. He then kneels down and hugs me. "Carlito, please, don't say you have no feelings for me. I wouldn't be able to take it. It would break my heart to see you go and become indifferent to me. I'd feel sad, lonely, and would not be able to love anybody else in the world." I kiss his head and ask him to stand up.

"Bob, can you take me back to the forest now, please?" He nods.

"Of course, Carlito. But, I'll let you shower first, my friend." He exits and closes the bathroom door. I shower quickly and dry. I hear him showering in another bathroom. I get dressed and open the door. Then Bob comes out of the other bathroom. He still has tears in his eyes.

We go downstairs quietly. Throughout our drive, none of us say anything.

"Will I see you again, my love?" Bob's voice is low, and I perceive a longing and aguish in its tone.

"Bob, tell you what. Please, I want you to give me about a month to think about us."

"Thirty days? But why?"

"I want you to take these thirty days, and, think about what we're doing, our risks, our lives, and the obstacles that will surely come ahead of us." I cover his mouth before he says anything. "Don't say anything now, Bob. In one month, in September I'll be here on the first Sunday. If I meet you, I'll know. If you don't see me, you'll also know, and you'll be released." He nods. I turn my back and ride my bike away. I hear his truck driving away. Not once have I looked back. I arrive at my unit at night.

"Carlos, where have you been all day?" Bernardo is worried. "Where you with your American friend again?" I nod. "I suppose you have no more time for your latino friends, do you?"

"Bernardo, I think I love him." He enters his small hut and slams the door again.

The work is hard. Bernardo doesn't want to talk to me. I keep on saving every penny I can. Only Adriano has seen Bob's photo, the only one I have of him. I hold the printed photo and kiss it. I wanted to pay him for the photo. Adriano said it was a late birthday present. Bob looks proud holding his bucket of worms in one strong hand, and a fork with long teeth on the other. He smiles confidently and seems to be saying something. I forgot what he said then. Perhaps he didn't say anything, I don't know.

On the following weekends, I realize Bernardo is going fishing or trapping birds, but I pretend I don't see him going to that dear place. Instead, I stay home and confide my feelings to my small diary. I also pray for the Virgin to protect Bob.

I hear a few people talking outside. They've just come back from a party.

On a Saturday night, I ask Adriano if I can join them to this latino party. But I warn him that I'm not going to spend a penny there. I'm just going to watch. We all climb the back of a truck. Bernardo is surprised to see me there, and doesn't talk to me. He is talking with this very young and beautiful girl, Vera. Adriano says she's just sixteen. I go back to the truck and decide to wait for the boys to come back.