Upon My Arrival

The whole ride home I wondered if he would even be there. The whole trip to Arizona had been a flop and waste of money. Guero was against the whole thing. He knew I would accomplish nothing. He also knew that if I did accomplish my plan that his place in my life would dramatically change.

The truth of it was that our relationship was forbidden on so many levels. We knew each other inside and out, that is exactly what stopped us. We were both already in relationships. Those relationships felt safe to us because we both knew what to expect. On one hand we trusted each other with everything, including our lives, except with our hearts. With that we had no trust, no faith and neither one of us was able to take that risk.

The passion that ran through our veins for each other was undeniable. Anyone that saw us together saw the way we stared at each other, how we could communicate without speaking a word to one another. Our passion was like an inferno, it drew us together but burned everything that came near us. Our significant others could never prove what was going on but they were well aware, because they too knew of our passion. Yet I never did know when he was coming or going.

After 14 hours of driving my heart ached for him, all the disappointment could only be relieved by his touch. Mile after mile I prayed he would be there. I wondered if he would find the right story to tell her to get out without all the drama. She knew I went out of town in an attempt to retrieve my deported significant other from the desert after being abandoned by his coyote. I am sure she was praying that I would succeed because Guero could be home every day again with her.

Even when I was in Arizona, deep down I hoped I would come home empty handed. My heart was already with Guero. So on my drive back I was relieved, happy that I would be able to continue our affair. The closer Migra and I got to home the more I felt confident that this was the way things were meant to be. All of this mess happened this way for a reason.

Once we rolled into Napa I was tired and burnt out. Home was the only place I wanted to be. Having Guero in my home was the ultimate prize for me at that moment. I parked on the street and dragged my tired body into the house at about 3:00 am to a freezing cold home. I quietly closed the door surveying the living room littered with Budweiser cans, hand drawn sketches and tattoo equipment. By the looks of it all I knew he had spent the days that I was gone there hiding from her. The whole downstairs had the familiar stench of drunks and tweekers with a hint of burnt tortillas. As I made the corner the kitchen sink was full of dishes and more beer cans. Maybe it was for cultural reasons, maybe it was pure laziness, either way he swore it was my job to clean up this mess that he had produced.

I didn’t have the energy to be mad, let alone clean it up. I walked back through the living room to make my ascent up the staiers. With every step I grew more anxious. Was he here? Or was he gone? Would he be happy that I was back? Or pissed off that I had left?

When I turned the corner to my bedroom, I stood there wondering if I should open the door. I so wanted him to be there. I would be very disappointed if he wasn’t, even in my exhaustion it would of stung me. All I wanted to do was lay down with him, to forget my failure, to just go back to the way things were: Business as usual and Guero. I loved the thrill of being in his life. Deep inside I thrived on the never knowing if he was coming or going. It kept the fire within us burning, keeping the mystery alive.

I stood in the hallway for probably 5 minutes betting myself whether or not he was there. The tiredness finally took over and I walked slowly to the door. As it opened my eyes lit up and my heart jumped, he was there. Passed out in my bed, he had waited all night for my return. The bedroom window was wide open letting the cold fall air in. Another sea of Budweiser was everywhere, on the window sill, the floor, on the dresser, even a few at the foot of the bed.

More importantly He was in the bed, which was really just a mattress on the floor. There he laid on my mattress, above my blankets. Guero was fully clothed with cowboy boots on (he hated them but knew I was a sucker for a man in boots), with one leg and one arm hanging off the edge and a beer in his hand. Obviously he passed out drunk with his cowboy hat still on his head as it covered half his face. It didn’t matter his condition, all that mattered was that he was on my mattress, in my home, waiting for me.

I slowly and quietly undressed. Gently I pulled back the blanket to crawl under it but carefully not to wake him. Waking him could either a be a good thing or a very bad situation. I feared that if he woke up he would leave out of anger. I knew he wasn’t happy I left or that I hadn’t been answering his calls. All of the voicemails he left were angry, jealous, and complaining about me ditching him for the other man I was supposed to be committed to.

In the end my movement woke him. Dropping the beer can on the floor he rubbed his eyes obviously confused about what was going on, half because he was drunk and high, half because he had been sleeping. Finally his eyes focused. With a gasp he scooped me up in his arms yelling “Guera” with excitement and kissed me.

When our lips touched it was like a surge of energy ran through me to the tips of my body removing all tiredness from me. A sudden unknown source of energy dumped in to me, racing through m y veins. It was as exciting as our very first kiss, our passion had been renewed in that one moment.

Any preoccupation about my failure in Arizona was gone. We were back into our bubble, our place that no one else mattered. The passion lasted well past the break of daylight. It wasn’t important to us that we were being unfaithful in the eyes of others. To us we were exactly where we were supposed to be, lost in each other.