Untitled Part 2

          Cleveland 1985


          "Do you really want to know? If you really want to know, I'll tell you."


        Sammy  propped himself up on an elbow and turned to face Sean as they lay on the mattress in Sammy's

cramped bedroom sharing a post- fuck Camel along with conversation. White glow from the flickering streetlight

outside the room's only window illuminated the strong features of his face, making sharp angles sharper still, the

dark eyes more intense, the thick brows even more prominent. A light summer breeze blew in, offering a moment's

relief from the room's general stuffiness and causing the sheer curtains to flutter softly as Sammy continued. "I will

tell you, but I must tell you this also: You will not like this story." Sean was quickly learning that Sammy had what

could best be described as a flair for the dramatic at times, but this seemed different. The look in his eyes was

serious, his tone somber. He took a long drag of the Camel before he quietly spoke.



            "He was a Spaniard. I was almost sixteen, and he  was...older.  A little older, we will leave it at that, okay?"

He used  his thumb and  forefinger to visualize to Sean how trivial the age difference was, leaving no more than an

inch of empty space between the digits. Sean was unconvinced, but said nothing. " I met him in the souk where you

could buy anything you wanted. Anything, and I know you are understanding me. Anything one may desire to buy

was for sale. It was never discussed of course, never at all, but you knew. You just knew. Many places in the States

are like this as well, no?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Of  course they are! But I am getting ahead of myself here. Let

me go back a bit, not too long before this day, back to the day my father went to sleep for the last time. He was a

fisherman, and an unhappy man, Sean. Very unhappy. Even smoking kif could not make him smile anymore. How

could that be?" Sammy asked this question in earnest, eyes wide and mouth open in disbelief. His awakening was

years away and at this point in time, he was still an unabashed propronent of mood altering substances. He went

on slowly, reaching into the stash he kept in the little nightstand next to his bed and pulling out a joint, then sparking

it up and inhaling deeply, smiling  widely as if to prove his point. But his eyes weren't smiling, Sean noted.


          "All the yelling! My mother would cry and order us, me and Hasan and my sister Aminah, my little Aminah,

my mother would call out to the three of us, "Run to the roof and stay there!".  So we would take our pillows and

sheets and creep up there quietly so all the neighbors wouldn't see us and tell us to come down, and Sean, I know

what happened down there. I know. I saw marks, bruises, bumps. And I hated him. I know that seems wrong, but it

is true. I grew to truly hate him. And let me tell you, we were so small when it first began. I  was no more than ten or

eleven when it started to get really ugly. So ugly. But I could do nothing to stop it. And I had to protect the others,

too. Hasan and Aminah were tiny, so little. Bebes almost. Sometimes we couldn't come down for minutes, sometimes

hours." He closed his eyes and there the three of  them appeared- little brown bodies clad in loose white cotton,

three sets of knobby knees and bony elbows, three pairs of dark, frightened eyes. He swore he could almost smell

the Mediterranean Sea, feel the salty breeze cooling his skin as they lay huddled together under the vast, starlit

African sky. He missed this more than anything else about his homeland- the immense, beautiful clear skies at

night. You could almost see heaven, he once told Sean. Heaven. Sometimes he ached to feel hot sand under his

bare feet, to sit by the water and lose himself under the inky blackness above. Can we see it together?, Sean had

asked at the time. Sammy assured him that yes, of course they would. Some day. One day.

       
            "I prayed he would go away, Sean." They were sitting up now, cross- legged and facing one another in the

dark. "And then late one night, after a particularly long rooftop visit, he died. His heart gave out, the doctor told us.

He went peacefully in his sleep, which, if you ask me, was more than he deserved." He sighed heavily. "No, I don't

mean that...perhaps I'm being too harsh." The weed was kicking in, making Sammy's eyelids heavy and hooded

in the darkness, softening the sharp edges of his memories. "So, we have a mother still, that is good, no? But there

were times when we went hungry. I have felt an empty stomach and it is bad, very bad. So now we are back at the

souk. I have no dirhams, nothing. But I am fifteen and I know there are foreigners looking for me. Well, not me,

exactly, but you understand what I'm saying, eh?". Sean nodded, transfixed. Horrified. He had done this. He had

asked Sammy about his first time on many different occasions but had never gotten a real answer, just some vague

responses, sexually charged witticisms, and a lot of skirting around the issue. But Sean Doyle was nothing if not

tenacious and refused to let Sammy off the hook so easy. Now he wished he had, because he couldn't bear to hear,

or more accurately, wasn't sure he could handle, what he knew was coming next in this tale.



          "He was a Spaniard. Our countries were so close they could kiss. That is what he told me after we started

chatting. "So close they could kiss." He was a businessman from a little village along the Sea, he said. Exporting.

Now I will tell you, I knew what he was exporting from the Rif. You know, too." He eyed the joint in his hand and

Sean nodded. "Very big business. Lots of profit. So we walk together and soon he asks me, are you hungry?

You look hungry. I am not in a position to be too proud, so I tell him, yes I am. And I find myself telling him about

my father being gone and my mother and Hasan and little Aminah, as well. I will help, he says. And I can tell he's

hungry, too. But he's hungry for something other than food, if you understand what I'm saying." Sammy didn't want

to add that he, too, was hungry that day. Not exactly in the same way as this dark stranger from across the Sea, no.

He was hungry for a warm touch, affection. Now he was up on his feet, naked and staring out the window. He didn't

want to see Sean's face as the words starting pouring out like a water fall. "We shopped and I picked out exactly

what we needed: meats and vegetables, sweet dates for Hasan and Aminah. We walked together and I ran upstairs

and my mother was so happy and I was proud to be such a good provider, too. I told her I helped a fisherman,

that's how all this food came to be. She was very proud of me.The Spaniard waited outside for me and you know,

Sean, I didn't have to go back down there. What could he have done, really? He was not acting appropriately.

How would he have explained our situation to anyone? A stranger buying food for a young boy, a man from

another country hanging around the souks. We know why many of them are there. Not all of them, of course,

but enough of them. But I went downstairs, as I had promised him I would, and we walked to his apartment, and

it was impressive. Beautifully decorated, plush and expensive. I stayed there that night and he stuffed me full of

delicious lamb and later, he asked me to come into his bed, and I did. He just watched me for a long time, looked

at me in a way no one had ever looked at me before. Like I was precious, a rare gem. He held me close to him

that night, all night. That's all. And I slept like a baby. Crazy, no?" They were silent for a moment before Sammy

spoke again, his voice low. "Do you think less of me?"


          Sean stood behind him now, his arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. He pictured Sammy at fifteen,

small and and scared and hungry, and the aching in his heart was palpable. He remembered the word he heard

Sammy murmur softly to him under his breath as they lay side by side the last time they were together, the word he

actually went to the library to look up in an Arabic dictionary, that's how curious he was to know its' meaning. He

knew Sammy thought he was already sleeping, but he wasn't, and he had felt his fingers lightly stroke his cheek that

night, and he'd heard what Sammy had called him.  "Habibi...", was all Sean said as he pulled Sammy even closer to

him. They stood together, quiet in the darkness of the warm Cleveland night.