One hot, muggy summer day, while lounging on my parents’ front porch, listening to a Dodgers game on my little radio, and hoping for a breeze to cut through the heat, I heard the Salvadors next door arguing again. It might’ve been about the same old thing, like money. They were always fighting about money. I cocked my head towards the Salvadors’ house as Vin Skully’s dulcet voice called a play. It was Mrs. Salvador leading the fight, with Mr. Salvador acting as a bitter chorus, as their dog barked. The only time that dynamic came into play was when their daughter Cee Cee got in trouble. She had been causing a lot of trouble lately, gaining a reputation with the neighborhood families.
A full shouting match between the three Salvadors was now taking place. It didn’t last long. Cee Cee rushed out of the front door, slamming it with fury. I turned off my radio. She sat on the front stairs of her house, slumped and cradling her head in her hands. Her long, silky black hair acted as a curtain hiding her face. I kept low on the porch, hoping she hadn’t seen me, as she sobbed.
It was my birthday, and my friends came to my house. Mom got a large sheet cake from Phoenix Bakery. Grandma and my aunts slow-roasted pork and beef, and my dad and uncles gathered in the backyard to drink beer. My friends and I played and ran around, high on sugar, until the sun set and everyone needed to go home. Mom and Grandma cleaned up. Dad pitched in and picked up the empty cans scattered in the grass before heading back inside the house to help with the kitchen.
I was alone in the backyard, nodding off on a chair, enduring a post-sugar crash, when I heard a small voice say, ‘Hey!’ The voice was coming from the chain-link fence separating my house from the Salvadors. I woke up a little and turned towards it. Cee Cee stood in the dark, her dog, a large black Rottweiler, panting beside her.
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘Did you have a party?’
I nodded my head.
‘Why wasn’t I invited?’
She didn’t sound angry or sad. But I felt ashamed. I mumbled an indirect answer.
‘Do you want to come over?’ she asked.
I argued with myself. I hesitated because I wasn’t allowed to go to the Salvadors, but I was also worried about disappointing Cee Cee more. I came up with an excuse, pointing to her dog and asking, ‘Doesn’t he bite?’
‘Señor is good. He likes people.’
Cee Cee pulled the chain-link fence low enough for me to jump over it. ‘Come on,’ she said.
I stood and climbed over the fence. Señor came up and sniffed my hand and thighs. Cee Cee petted his head and motioned for me to follow.
We went to the garage. Its large, heavy door was thrown open, exposing a washer and dryer set, a laundry sink, and a broken-in leather sofa pushed against the opposite wall. Cee Cee sat on it and patted the seat next to her. I sat down. Señor walked over and lay on the concrete floor, resting his head on an outstretched leg.
‘Your party looked nice,’ she said.
‘Thank you.’
‘How old are you?’
I told her. ‘You’re a man now,’ she said.
I looked down at my skinny, hairless legs. I didn’t feel like a man. But it felt good nonetheless.
‘Do you like girls?’
It was an innocent question, one that my aunts loved asking me, usually in a joking way. Cee Cee didn’t sound like she was joking. I lowered my head, trying to hide my shy smile. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I think so.’
Cee Cee reached over and cradled her hand over mine. It felt good, comforting. Then, she leaned forward and kissed me on the lips, like in the movies or on TV. I was confused. It was a very adult thing, and I thought it was wrong. But I also enjoyed it. Something odd coursed through me, something I couldn’t name. It started in my stomach and spread downward.
She pulled back from the kiss and looked at me. Her eyes were soft and warm. She stood in front of me, unbuttoning her jean shorts and pulling everything down. I saw all of her. I was stunned. She was flushed, her lips parted slightly. ‘Now, you,’ she said, stepping closer to me, her hands trembling.
I don’t know what happened—a bolt of electricity shot through me. I stood up, trying to hide my shame, and nervously ran out of the garage, to the chain-link fence, and hopped over it. I didn’t look back.
I never saw Cee Cee again after that. I don’t know what happened to her. But I catch myself thinking about her from time to time. But I can never remember her face.
