The Tower of the Antilles by Achy Obejas

Author:Achy Obejas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Akashic Books
Published: 2017-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

Supermán

They say that, for the longest time, Enrique didn’t know he was a superman. What he understood was that men liked his dick. He’d known it since he was a boy, when an older neighbor had kiddingly pushed him into the water off the Malecón and stared at the wet outline of his member after they dragged themselves laughing up to the rocks. What the hell is that? he’d asked, not waiting for an answer and grabbing it with his big hand through the fabric of the boy’s shorts. The neighbor was too quick, and the tug too electrifying, so that the boy couldn’t hide the swelling of his penis in the man’s fist. Behind them, up past the Malecón’s long wall, car horns blew like Haydn’s trumpets. The neighbor pushed him roughly to the edge of the rocks then silently instructed him to sit with his legs in the water and his back to the traffic. The neighbor submerged himself and brought his head between the boy’s thighs. He popped his fly and pushed as much as he could into his mouth before spitting it back out. It’s an eel, he said, it’s too much for me. Seeing the boy’s panicked look, the neighbor said, Don’t worry, don’t worry, and curled his fingers, pushing and pulling until, many minutes later, the boy finally shot over his head and into the waters.

As they were making their way back across the reef to the Malecón, the neighbor shook his hand out and joked about how it had almost fallen asleep. Embarrassed, the boy apologized but the neighbor clapped him on the back. That’s gonna make you a lot of money, my friend, just you wait. The neighbor, whose name was Osmany, grinned the whole way home.

They say that was the beginning—that then Osmany told Mercedes, his wife, about the sleepy-eyed neighbor boy, how his penis went on for so long it seemed to defy human possibility. She had him come by their apartment and, after fussing over him so much that he began to tremble, he was finally convinced to unbutton his pants and show her—except this time, his treasure lay flat and soft on his thigh, still impressive but inert. She shook her head in dismay.

Hmm, said Osmany, who was baffled: he couldn’t swallow that thing, much less let it up his ass; the boy was too young to fuck and yet there was something in his somnambulant gaze that let Osmany know trying to get the boy to take a dick in his mouth—a mouth like syrup, glistening and sweet—would be futile. That strange boy seemed so different from mortal men.

They say Osmany was a valet at a downtown hotel and he’d see the boy each morning on the way to work, just lingering on the steps of the Saint Jude Thaddeus Church on the corner of San Nicolás and Tenerife. He’d wave and the boy would nod, his eyes so heavy-lidded you’d have thought he’d just woken up on those steps: shirtless, flawless.

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