Finding Armando by Joe Cosentino

Author:Joe Cosentino [Cosentino, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-64405-653-0
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2020-06-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

I OPENED one eye. The view outside the window greeted me with bursts of scarlet and jonquil. By the time I opened the other eye, the sky had settled down to a calm blue. I woke Jamison, and the two of us groggily washed and dressed in polo shirts and slacks. When Jamison headed to the restaurant for our takeout breakfasts, I sat at the living room desk to check a map of Reading. Then I shut the computer and left the cabin.

As I walked outside, I spotted Asher on the rock at the lake. My heart broke at the sight of a tear sliding down his cheek. Moving on, I spotted Kendall at the foot of the lake. I was about to call out a good morning when I saw Phoenix heading toward him.

Phoenix said, “Kendall, you’re up early.”

“The early bird catches the worm.” Kendall asked him, “Aren’t you going to make a snide comment about me catching a lot of worms?”

“You already did that.” Phoenix cringed. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“I sounded like my father just then. He was a military man too.”

“Did he rag you out and praise your brother, like my father did to me?”

Phoenix sat on a rock, careful not to wrinkle his suit. “I was an only child. So my dad just ragged me out. And he generally expected the impossible from me.”

“Sorry.”

“Now we’re both sorry.”

They shared a smile.

Kendall, wearing a white T-shirt and gym shorts, stretched his calf muscles. “If you’re going for a morning run, I suggest you get out of that suit, man.”

Phoenix shook his head. “I like to get a jump on the day and check out the resort.”

“How does it look?”

Phoenix glanced at Kendall. “Better now.”

Their eyes met.

I continued to the parking lot, where I met Jamison. We plopped into Jamison’s car, and he drove as we sipped pineapple smoothies and ate pumpkin quinoa muffins. By the time we reached Reading, we, and the town, were ready to greet the morning.

Jamison parked on a main road, and we visited the veterans’ center, boxing school, and a pretzel shop—one of many. In each case the person behind the counter had never heard of Armando Caro or his family. Twenty-four years ago might as well have been two hundred years ago in Reading.

Next we entered a Catholic church. The cavernous marble and gold structure was empty. As we walked by beautiful stained glass windows displaying Jesus healing the sick, serving and welcoming everyone, and demanding help for the poor and outcasts, I felt saddened at how his message had been distorted by so many to one of hate and exclusion. When we reached the altar, an elderly priest appeared.

I said, “Father, I’m hoping you can help us.”

He replied, “I’m sorry. We no longer offer clothing for the poor.”

Jamison whispered to me, “Maybe we should invest in a new wardrobe.”

“I’m Theo Stratis, and this is my husband, Jamison Radames.”

The priest sighed. “Our adoption agency does not welcome homosexual couples.”

Jamison held my arm. “We’re looking for someone named Armando Caro.

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