The Worm Digger and I

Then at the distance I see his familiar truck parking. He gets off and walks towards the beverage stall and buys a beer. Gosh, he looks so handsome, manly, and confident. He's a big man and draws attention of a lot of young latinos, who wish to make some easy cash. He takes the hand of one acquaintance and goes back to his truck. Then they drive away. I shut the glass of the truck, for I don't wish to listen to the music anymore.

He is pursuing his own happiness. But God, why can't I?

As the boys return to the truck, I wake up.

On the following week, we work hard in the fields. Then something unexpected happened. Everybody is talking about it. "You don't know what happened? The older bastard and Vera ran away!" I shake my head in disbelief.

But it can't be. Bernardo even left his bike in his hurry. Her folks are desperate but cannot do anything, much less call the police.

The boys are planning to go to another party on Saturday. As usual, I stay home, knowing tomorrow is the first Sunday of September.

I go to sleep early and wake up early. I clean my small lodging space, count the little money I have in my pocket, for the most part is in the hands of Mr. Ramirez, who says he's sending it to my family in Brazil for me.

I prepare a simple bologna sandwich and eat it. I drink water and decide to take a nap. I then wake up at three P.M. I go out and sit under the shade. A few people are smoking and talking about their families abroad. A man plays his guitar and sings about his fishing village in Venezuela. I hear some people say that Vera is living in a far away town. They also say that Bernado is going to be a father.

At five P.M., my tears begin to fall for I feel part of me being torn apart. At seven P.M. I finally enter my small unit and prepare an instant noodle cup for dinner. I set my improvised table made of crates, and eat, not tasting my food.

At eight P.M. I hear voices of the boys outside. Then I hear a knock on my door. That's very odd, for I never get visitors in the evening. Besides, we all retire early to bed, for we all got work to do early on the next day.

I open the door and it's Bob! He is holding a small black box in his hand.

"Bob! How did you?" He has tears in his eyes.

"I had to go to this latino party and talked to one of the boys. I paid him several beers and he ended up telling me where most workes lived. I-I'm sorry, Carlito, but I had to do it, for I felt afraid I'd lose you."

"I-I saw you that night."

"You can ask Juliano, Carlito. We just drank beer and I just asked him information on how to get to you, then left."

"Bob, I can't do this. You have a beautiful life ahead of you, why just throw it away because of someone like me?" I wipe my persistent tears. "I can't drag you to the gutter with me. You and I would suffer when the authorities found out I'm an illegal worker. Think of the pain when we are separated. I won't be able to bear it."

"I-I know, my love. This is why I've made inqueries. You see, my brother is a cop. I've already spoken to him about it, about us. He, well, the bastard laughed his head off when I told him I was a fag." He bites his lower lip. "Well, he said in this State of Maine, gay marriage is legal. And to give you a green card, you'd have to leave America and apply for a citizenship while you're in Brazil. It all takes about one month at the most, for my brother has connections in the police and immigration. Carlito, please, say you want to take this risk for us. I'm more than willing to endure one more month away from you, but for a nobler purpose." I smile and hug him. He lifts me from the ground.

"Bob, even if we were never to see each other again, I'd never forget you." I wipe his tears. He wipes mine. "And I am willing to take the risk." I can hardly believe what I'm saying. He smiles and kneels down before me. He opens the box and smiles.

"Carlito, do you accept me to be your husband?" I cover my mouth and nod.

"Bob, I do!" He puts the gold ring on my finger. My hand is shaking.

My trip back to Brazil has been meticulously arranged. I turn around and wave, as Bob blows me kisses. His brother escorts me to the Hancock County-Bar Harbor Airport with my passport. The American Airlines ATR 72 plane takes off and I marvel at the lovely sight of the ocean and island. This short flight takes me to Portland International Airport.

Then, I board the huge American Airlines plane, which takes off at night for Brazil. I watch the city lights, and wipe my tears.

Bob, my dear Bob! Take heart! A month should go fast.

Feeling tired, I close my eyes and fall asleep. In my dreams, I hear a baby crying and his mother sothing him with a lullaby. When I open my eyes and look out the window of the plane, the pilot announces that we're already flying over Brazilian territory.

Later, we're about to land in the Guarulhos International Airport.

My parents and sister are waiting for me. I cry and hug everybody. My heart beats for them, and also for someone who's so dear to me, and living so far away from here.

As instructed, I go to the American Embassy and hand in all the documents Bob and his brother provided for me. They ask me for two weeks to process the papers.

Oh, dear! Though a month went so fast, it also felt like an eternity!

Now, with the proper documents from the American Embassy in hand, I'm ready for my new journey back to America.

"Son, you take care of yourself and honor this man, Bob. Send him our love." Mom, dad, and my sister hug me.

The huge American Airlines plane takes off smoothly and I look at the lovely Guarulhos City lights. I close my eyes and cannot wait to see him again.

The flight is smooth and I doze off. When I least expect, the pilot announces our landing in Portland International Airport.

As I get off the plane, I pass through emigration with all the documents in hand. Soon after, I take the familiar American Airlines ATR 72 plane.

As it flies over Beals Island, my heart beats fast. We approach the ocean, and at last I see the runway. Thud! We've landed safely.

As I get off the plane, my legs and knees are almost giving way. I feel the wind on my face and smell the ocean breeze. I walk towards the airport, look for my luggage, and follow the others towards the exit. The automatic door opens and Bob shouts.

"Carlito! Oh, God! My love!"

"Bob! Oh, Bob!" We hug and kiss. His brother also hugs me.

"Jesus, how can I get a latino boyfriend too?" Jeremy asks.

"I missed you so much, my Carlito!"

After a bit over one hour on the road, I see the familiar country road. I smile as I see the large sign: KEEP OUT! PRIVATE PROPERTY! Next to another red sign: FOR SALE, and SOLD, in yellow, just overlaping the red sign.

Later I need to ask Bob the meaning of this new sign. His brother drops us off and helps with my luggage. We hug him and he drives away. I wonder where Bob's nice truck is.

"At last, you're back, my love!" He carries my big suitcase to his house. My entire life and all that I own is in this old suitcase.

"Bob, I feel like I'm in the middle of a dream." He smiles.

"Gosh, I don't know how I managed to sleep in the past few days! I was so anxious to have you back! I was so scared they would deny you entry or you'd get cold feet and wish to turn your back on me."

"I'd never do such a thing, dear." I notice his house is dark, though it's still morning. I notice a lot of papers on his dining room table. I follow him upstairs and he puts my suitcase on our bed.

"Carlito, I hope you won't mind, but I've got to go back to work. There's food in the fridge." He hugs and kisses me on the mouth. "I shall be back by eight P.M." I nod. We walk downstairs and he takes a helmet. I hear him riding his motorbike and wave.

As I am taking a shower, I think of my family so far away. I think of the hard farewell at the airport, the plane leaving Brazil for good, and smile. I open my eyes and turn off the hot water. I dry in a stained towel and notice a wilting flower in a small vase.

Poor Bob, he forgot to put water in the vase. I open my suitcase and get dressed. The house is still and quiet. I check his large closet and find the space assigned for me. I hang my few clothes I have: pants, shorts, T-shirts, shirts, and two pairs of shoes. I put a small portrait of my family on the night table.

My parents are smiling. Only my youngest sister is on mom's lap. The rest of us are standing. I then look at Bob's portrait, and pay attention to his beautiful mother, handsome dad, him, and Jeremy. They were still kids. I also take out a dear photo from my wallet. It is almost crumpling from so many kisses, talks, and prayers recited before it. He kept me company during these thirty long days I spent in Brazil. I stroke the photo and put it on the night table.

I take a few food items I've brought along: Brazilian candies, so that Bob can taste them. I also have my small pink plastic rosary my Aunt Casuko, who is a nun, gave me. "Always trust in the Virgin," she told me.

Then I put the empty suitcase temporarily under the large bed. I find a piece of paper under it. It's hard to read, for the paper was crampled. I can make out some values scribbled in pencil. It lists his property and his passenger truck.

I take out my small pocket dictionary. I need to find out what FOR SALE and SOLD mean. I look it up for the word and read the definition. The penny finally drops and I close the dictionary.

Oh, my God! Now I know where he got all the money to pay for my round trip, all the expenses with the emigration, lawyer, and what-nots! Bob has basically sold everything he had to bring me back to America.

No wonder he's working until late! As soon as he gets back, I need to speak with him about this. I'll find a job and return him the money. Now that I'm basically an American citizen, I'll work hard and pay him for every cent he's spent on me!

He can't go without his truck! In the fall and winter he won't be able to get around! Where will we live after he sells his dear old family house?

As I have plenty of time in my hands, I begin to do some work around the house. I start with the kitchen. I scrub, wash, rinse, sweep, wipe, mop, and put everything away. I don't think his stove and oven have ever got cleaned. Neither has his fridge.

I move to his living room and do a thorough job cleaning up everything. I do the windows and the window sills. I move to both bathrooms and do a thorough cleaning.

I collect a large pile of dirty laundry to do later. Before I stop for lunch, I take his towels, tea towels, wash cloth and underwear and soak them in a concentrated mixture of soap and water. Then I start scrubbing and using the old brush to wash each article thoroughly. His white briefs are all stained. I have a hard time to make them white again. Then I finally rinse and twist. I finish my first batch and carry the large plastic bucket to hang out the laundry. His towels now look spotless. His tea towels are now clean. All his pairs of briefs, ten in all are immaculate.

I leave his pairs of socks soaking in the soapy mixture. Then, I'm tackling the next batch later. I have a small sandwich and drink some milk for lunch. Then I have an apple.

After my lunch, I go back to cleaning this house. Now I tackle the stairs and the upstairs rooms. I dust, wipe, and vacuum. Then I go to our bedroom. I change the bedding and realize that even the clean sheets in the closet are stained.

I sort the sheets, pillow cases, and towels in a pile. I clean the windows, wipe the furniture, sweep the floor and mop. I move to the other rooms and bathrooms. I take a break and have some coffee in the front verandah.

Then, after my short break, I tackle his laundry again. I scrub his socks and wash them thoroughly. I hang them later. I also do the bedding and scrub them hard. Some, which are badly stained, I leave in the large bucket with a concentrated soap mix. The rest I hang on the line. I just hope it won't snap with the weight of so much laundry that I did this morning.

Just then, a car pulls on the road. I recognize his brother Jeremy right away.

"Hi, Jeremy!" He shades his eyes.

"Jesus! Look at all my brother's briefs and socks! Fuck, have you been doing his laundry all morning?"

"A lot of his clothes were stained, Jeremy. By the way, come in. I'll make you some coffee."

"Thanks." He enters the house. "Fuck! What happened to this place?" He takes off his sunglasses. He inspects the furniture, the staircase, the kitchen, the bathrooms, the windows.

"Don't tell me you did all this by yourself?" I smile and pour the hot water in the filter to brew his coffee.

"Yes, Jeremy. I had nothing to do all morning, anyway." He smells the air.

"Wow, I can tell this is real coffee!" I hand him his mug.

"Yes, Jeremy. I've brought some fresh ground coffee from Brazil."

"Jesus! This is what real coffee is supposed to taste like!" I offer him some cookies. "This kitchen is spotless! Look at this fridge! And the stove! None of them were ever cleaned before! Bob always wiped them superficially. Nothing like what you've done, Carlito!"

"Jeremy, I need to talk to you about something serious." He eats a cookie and drinks his coffee.

"Yes, Carlito. What is it? You don't want my sloppy brother anymore and wish to live with me instead? At least my house is cleaner. But not like this."

"No, Jeremy. I need to know how much Bob has spent bringing me back to America. He must have spent a fortune in airline tickets and the legal papers to bring me here." I tell him of the crumpled piece of paper that I found under the bed, and the SOLD sign in front of the house. He drinks his coffee.

"Well, I guess he won't get mad at me if I told you this. Anyway, about the airline tickets, he didn't spent much, if at all. I've got hundreds and hundreds of air miles and simply used them to get the tickets. You know what air miles are?" I shake my head and he explain that to me.

"So, that takes care of the airline tickets. About the legal papers, well, I work for the police and have many contacts in the government bureau. We got everything for almost nothing. The only part that Bob had to work hard was to, well, prove to the government that he could be your sponsor. He had to provide proofs that he had sufficient funds to support you here. So, what he did was something simple. He sold his car and the house to put the money in the bank. You see, as your sponsor, he is legally responsible for you and your living expenses in America. He has to prove to the emigration authorities that he has enough funds for both of you. This amount of money has to remain there for at least three months in the bank." I nod.

"This is how come he's sold all he owned to get the papers ready for you. As the bank issues monthly reports to him, he hands them to the government authorities. After this period, he will be able to use this money to buy his car and house back again. He had to wreck his brains to find someone willing to do this for him. I couldn't because I'm close to kin. But we had a friend who was willing to buy his truck, and later, sell it back to him. After much effort, he convinced his old boss to go along with his plan. Mr. Hunter then bought the house and signed all the papers for him. He did all this just in time. After an auditory in his bank account, he was granted permision to be your sponsor, Carlito."

"Geez, Jeremy! I feel so bad for having being the reason for all this hassle and brain-wrecking experience to you all! I'm sorry, my friend!" He smiles and eats another cookie.

"That's all right by me. I'd do anything to make that mother-fucker happy and settled for life." He checks his time. "Well, I've got to go now. I came here to drop off one of my trucks for him. He can drive it for three months until he buys himself back his old truck. I'm not charging that bastard a cent for that, only beers." He chuckles. He thanks me for the coffee and cookies and drives his truck into the property. He takes his motorbike that was in the trunk and rides it away.

Geez, I cannot imagine how tough it must have been for poor Bob to come up with all these ideas to bring me back to America.

I collect his dry briefs and towels. Some of the sheets are already dry. I manage to scrub and make the remaining laundry spotless and immaculate. I hang them and bring the rest into the house. I look for the iron and find one covered in cobwebs. I hope it still works. I plug that in and surprise, it works! I iron his briefs, towels, shirts, pants, night shirts. I fold everything and put them away. I notice some of his socks have holes in them.

Now, where would I find his sewing stuff, if he has them at all? After checking for a while, I find them. I sit in the front porch and begin darning his socks. I also fix a few holes of a shirt under the armpits. I hear a motobike and it's Bob.

"Hi, my love!" We kiss. He looks around as if in disbelief.

"Hi, dear! Guess what? You brother was here again and brought you his truck!" He turns to the vehicle and opens a big smile.

"That son-of-a-bitch kept his word!" He inspects the truck. He opens it and takes the folder with documents and the key. He smiles to me. "I tried to come here earlier, but I was too caught up at work. Anyway, I suppose he's told you everything, hasn't he? I know how officers are and I also know that bastard!" I nod.

"He has, Bob! But don't blame him, dear. I was the one who asked him about everything, dear." I tell him about the crumpled piece of paper under the bed and the sign in front of his house. "Bob, I don't know how to thank you for all that you've done for me to bring me to America." We kiss.

"That was the least I could do for you, my love."

"Do you have time for some coffee, dear?" He is looking at the huge amount of laundry left to dry. He looks at the windows and the clean verandah.

"Don't tell me you've done all that on your own?" I smile and kiss him.

"Oh, yes, dear. I had nothing to do in the morning anyway." I take his hand and enter the house.

"Holy Jesus! Look at this place!" He walks around and laughs. He enters the kitchen and I pour him his coffee and serve him some cookies. "Holy fuck! Even the fridge, stove, cupboards, everything is shining and spotless!" He cannot sit still and walks in the house with his mug of coffee. He climbs the stairs, admiring everything.

As he enters the bedroom, he sees the piles of freshly-ironed clothes on our bed. "Jesus! Look at my briefs! They look like they've just came out from the store!" He checks the bathroom. "How can a slim young man like you do all this in one day?"

"Dear, it wasn't so difficult. American houses are so easy to clean; the surfaces are smooth and dry easily. Not to mention the strong formula of detergent for the laundry that removes all stains."

"Listen, my love! I didn't want you to come here to be a servant, a maid, but my husband, remember?" I smile.

"Of course, dear." His cell phone rings. He checks the call.

"I'm sorry, Carlito. I must go back to work. They need me there. Did Jeremy tell you about my owning a construction business?" I shake my head.

"No, dear." He bites his lower lip.

"Well, I suppose he hasn't had time to tell you everything. So, now I run my own constructing company. My old boss bought this house from me and also kindly offered me to take over his small business that wasn't doing so well. He basically handed it down to me without charging me much. That means now I have to be on top of everything and run around like crazy. I'm going to earn incredibly more, for I'm taking in projects to build and repair houses." He takes a cookie and moves to the door.

"Bob, dear, I don't want to see you working like crazy just because of me." He kisses me.

"Don't worry, babe. I'll be fine and you deserve the best. I'll see you tonight for supper!" He drives away and disappears on the bend of property.