Made In Portugal

by Ana Newfolk

  “If you don’t come out of your head, when we get home I’m going to tie you to my bed and tease you until you’re begging for mercy,” he said as he stroked my leg from my knee up to my thigh. My traitorous dick started responding, and my thoughts followed suit.

  When we got home, I stopped quickly by my apartment to grab some more clothes and then returned to David’s apartment where he made good on his promise. Using the belt of his bathrobe, he tied my hands to the headboard of his bed and teased me with his tongue until I was writhing and desperate to come.

  His assault on my skin was lighting a fire inside me, but every time I thought I was going to combust he would stop touching me, and it was as though he was throwing a bucket of water to extinguish it. The evil man would then start it all over again.

  I cursed in every language I knew and threatened to return the torture, but in reality, for the minutes or hours David kept my body on the precipice of orgasm, all I could think, feel and see was him. Once again there was no real life, no responsibilities, no jobs to return to, just me and David in our perfect world.

  Sunlight was warm on my face and so bright I was struggling to open my eyes without squinting. I also felt warm all over, and it didn’t take me long to realize why since I could feel the weight of David’s body pressing against mine.

  “Bom dia,” he murmured against the back of my neck. I loved waking up with him like this, his arm around me keeping me close and particularly his morning wood pressing against the cleft of my ass.

  “Bom dia,” I said turning my head for a kiss.

  I knew we had to get up and get ready for breakfast with my grandparents, so I got up and dragged a still sleepy David into the bathroom.

  “I thought you were the morning person in this room?” I teased as I pushed him under the warm water spray of the shower.

  “Shut up, I had a sexy as fuck man curled up against me, can you blame a guy for wanting to stay in bed?”

  “Nope,” I kissed the sensitive spot on his neck that always made him shiver.

  “Fuuuuck.”

  “Can’t blame you at all.”

  We took a little longer in the shower while I made sure David was thoroughly awake before we made our way to my grandparents’ house.

  “Bom dia avó,” I said to my grandmother, stepping in for a big hug. God, I loved her hugs, her smell, her hands on my face like she knew exactly how to make me feel at home with such a simple touch.

  “Meus meninos,” she held David in a similar embrace to me. I loved when she called us her boys. I looked at David who was accepting the hug like a starved man.

  When I was a kid, my mom used to joke saying, “Your grandmother knows things, Joel,” as though she could read minds or knew what you’d been up to. I never knew what those “things” were then, but now it was like a billboard announcement. She knew about David, and she knew about us, she just chose not to say it out loud. The look she gave me as she stepped of David’s embrace was one of happiness tinged with a heavy dose of concern.

  During breakfast we told my family about the trip, the things we’d seen and some of the stories we read about in the journal.

  “It’s been a long time since we’ve been to Santarém, hasn’t it Vi?” my granddad asked my grandmother using his nickname for her.

  “I think we went there for a wedding a few years ago. It was an awful day of rain.”

  “I remember that day,” Vóvó Deolinda said from her armchair where she was working on a crochet piece, as usual, “you know, as the old saying goes, a wet wedding makes a blessed marriage.”

  “Must be true mom,” my grandma said, “because they’re still together, and that gorgeous baby of theirs is just so adorable.”

  I was looking at my three grandparents chatting to each other like they do every single day, and a pang of longing came over me. I had missed so much of this and would most certainly continue to miss it in the future, and I didn’t know how I felt about that.

  After breakfast, we did some shopping for the baking class and headed over to Lisbon to the Isaac’s LGBT Center.

  The LGBT Center was in downtown Lisbon in a commercial area.

  Sandwiched between two buildings - if it weren’t for the rainbow display in the window, I could have walked past it without knowing it was there. Even the small sign above the door was nondescript.

  This Center was unlike other LGBT Centers I’d been to in New York, it looked like the front part was a functional store selling LGBT merchandise, and at the back, there was an office space with two desks and a seating area.

  The guy behind one of the desks got up to greet David as soon as we walked in carrying our shopping bags. He looked a little older than us but probably not by much. The thick-rimmed glasses on his face did nothing to hide the dark brown, nearly back color of his eyes. He had short black hair and gorgeous olive skin. The guy was undoubtedly stunning but what really stood out was his friendly and open demeanor.

  “Olá, David. How are you? It’s been a while man,” he said with a quick hug and a fist bump.

  “Olá Tiago. I know, I know, life’s crazy,” David said and then turned to introduce me, “Tiago this is Joel, Joel this is Tiago, he volunteers here and knows everything,” he said punctuating the word everything.

  “Well, if I don’t, no one else will,” he shrugged and winked, “The boss is at the back, go on in.” David motioned to the door behind the desk leading to a long corridor.

  “He’s really friendly,” I commented.

  “Yeah, he’s an awesome guy. The Center would be lost without him, and I get the feeling it goes both ways.”

  I didn’t know what David meant and didn’t have a chance to ask because as we turned a corner at the end of the corridor, I bumped into a mass of messy curly hair. I would have fallen backward if David hadn’t dropped one of his bags and put an arm around me.

  “Oh fuck, I’m so sor--” he said looking up, “David!” ignoring the fact he nearly knocked me on my ass, the guy put his arms around David in a sign of familiarity I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with.

  David hugged the guy back and laughed. This wasn’t a just-friends hug; this was the sign of something stronger. Holy hell, this was Isaac.

  David pulled back from the embrace, still smiling and ruffled the already messy curls on the guy’s head.

  “Joel this is--“

  “Isaac,” I interrupted, “nice to meet you,” I held out my hand to shake, but Isaac had other plans and hugged me too, although a little tamer than he did David.

  “That’s enough Isaac,” David said separating us and putting an arm around me. Both Isaac and I laughed.

  “Joel, let me give you a tour of the place while David gets settled in the kitchen where he belongs,” he sent a dirty wink towards David and pulled me back to the front of house where we’d just come from.

  I heard David mumbling about knowing this was a bad idea as he picked up all the shopping bags off the floor.

  Isaac asked Tiago to fix us all with coffee and told me to take a seat on the other side of his desk.

  “So Joel, I’m glad to finally meet you,” Isaac said leaning forward, placing his elbows on the desk and resting his head on his hands.

  “You know about me?” I don’t know why I was surprised that he did, after all, he and David were close, but I didn’t think I would come up in conversation since they hadn’t met until way after I’d been gone.

  I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed his eyes earlier; maybe it was because they hadn’t been as focused on me like they were right now. They were a piercing blue-green and staring at me like they were trying to figure me out.

  “He didn’t tell me about you until he accidentally mentioned you in his sleep one day.”

  What the actual fuck. Did they sleep together?

  My face must have shown my shock because Isaac was quick to say they sleep together only a couple of times after a night out when Isaac lived in a smaller apartment with only one bed an
d no sofa. Nothing had happened between them. Something in his demeanor made me believe what he said.

  “I prefer tall, blonde, brown eyed and sexy assholes who break promises.”

  The way he said it I could tell he was talking about someone specific. Isaac was staring at a glass decoration he had on his desk. It had an inscription, but I couldn’t read it from where I was sitting.

  “Do you wanna talk about it?” I asked, offering a friendly ear.

  “No, it’s not worth the time Joel,” he paused and then repeated my name like he remembered something, but he changed the subject, “looks like Tiago gave up on our coffee, he’s so fired.”

  “I thought he was a volunteer.”

  “He is.”

  Tiago came back, without the coffee, just in time to welcome a group of teenage boys and a girl. They high fived him, and the girl gave him a quick hug before they all bumped Isaac’s fist and then walked through the door.

  “That’s David’s class,” he explained.

  “They look like good kids.”

  “They haven’t got an easy life, but we hope to make it a little better for them and give them the skills they need to secure a better future.”

  We walked through the door behind the group to start the tour. Isaac smiled wide as he talked about the center and the kids. Some kids came to the center because they were living in foster care, didn’t have families or struggled at school and needed additional support to be able to stay in education

  until they could finish high school and get a job.

  When Isaac told me about the homeless kids the center helps because their parents kicked them out for being LGBT there was sadness in his voice. I knew the reason since David had told me a little about Isaac’s story being kicked out by his own parents for being gay. The unfairness of it all broke my heart, and I would forever be grateful to my parents for having made it so easy for me to be who I am.

  I also had a feeling that as far as Isaac was concerned any kid that came to him because they were homeless would receive help, whether they were LGBT or not. No one would get turned down.

  “We work with other charities when we can’t help. Our funds are very limited since we rely mostly on donations and the support of volunteers,” Isaac explained as we walked up the stairs that led to another floor, “I want to expand the Center to be able to offer emergency accommodation but it’s been a challenge not just from a financial aspect but the legal side of things. Bureaucracy has a way to forget we’re talking about real people here, kids that will spend the night outside in the cold, with no food and vulnerable to all kinds of predators.” I could hear the frustration in his voice.

  “Do you help mainly young LGBT people?” I asked with interest.

  “We don’t close the door on anyone, whatever their age, gender, sexuality or background. If they are in need, we will try to help. However, the facilities we have are targeted at helping teenagers and young adults. This is a safe place for them, and some have suffered abuse at the hands of adults. When an adult reaches out, we give them all the information they need and signpost to other charities that can help.”

  I was in awe of this man and the good work he was trying to do. I wondered how many kids now had jobs and a roof over their heads because of the help Isaac offered? How many now had people they could talk to about the stuff going on in their lives? I was also immensely proud of David for being part of this despite his own story.

  “My friend is arriving in a few days, he does a lot of work at a youth center and would probably like to see what you do here. Would it be ok if I bring him here to see you?” I knew Max would be interested in talking to Isaac about the center since he volunteered as a nurse at an LGBT Center in Greenwich Village.

  “Of course, I’d be happy to meet your friend. Shall we see what David and the kids are up to in the kitchen?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Isaac told me the building had once been a kindergarten, which is why it had so many rooms on the upper floors. The kitchen was spacious and fully equipped to cater for large numbers of people.

  David was surrounded by the kids who were so focused on repeating what he was demonstrating that no one noticed when Isaac and I walked in. There were two chairs by the door, so we both sat down observing the class. Isaac got his phone out and took some photos.

  The kids all had big smiles on their faces as David walked around and praised them all on the consistency of their custard. Their eyes looked full of possibilities, as though if they nailed these custard tarts, then everything in their lives would also work out.

  As for David, he was managing to give every one of them his full attention. His comments and jokes told me he knew these kids well and they looked up to him. This was another one of the many times I could see it as clear as daylight how beautiful this man was, and I would bet everything I have that he didn’t see it that way.

  Isaac put a hand on my arm to get my attention and leaned closer to me to say, “I only ever see the real David when he’s here.”

  There was a small smile on his face as though he was happy to be able to offer a safe harbor for his friend but also sadness that it was restricted to this space. I smiled back in understanding but what I really wanted to do was ask questions. Why didn’t David risk it when he had such a great example in his friend? How could he accept that his life would only ever be made of stolen moments, like these, when he could have it all?

  Was I naive to think that? Did I have such a privileged life that I could only believe in being myself no matter what? What was the other option? I didn’t even want to consider it because it was too dark a picture to accept.

  I was staring at David lost in my thoughts when he looked at where we were sitting. His face immediately lit up, his smile wide and his eyes were looking at me with such warmth. Two things hit me at that moment, I wanted to be on the receiving end of that smile for the rest of my life, and I had no clue how to make it happen.

  Once the custard tarts were in the oven, we all helped tidy up the kitchen, chef’s orders, and then sat around the big table. The center was officially closed for the day, so Tiago joined us, finally making us coffee and thus avoiding being fired again. I laughed at the ease in which everybody teased each other.

  Despite everything, David had good friends here; friends who would stick by him long after I was gone. That thought took my breath away, and I nearly choked on my coffee.

  “You ok? David whispered in my ear.”

  “Yup, coffee went the wrong way,” I said, hoping my excuse would be enough to avoid further questions.”

  The kids insisted we all tried their custard tarts and both David, Isaac, Tiago and I agreed they were delicious.

  “I think you could give David a run for his money. Maybe you should open a café right opposite his and show him how it’s done.” I teased.

  David was still a ball of energy on our way back home. I was driving, which gave him the freedom to talk about the kids, the center and his class while gesticulating wildly. It was the cutest thing I'd ever seen.

  When we pulled up on our street, he asked if I’d stay with him again. I was starting to think there was only ever one possible answer to that question.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  David

  Having breakfast with Joel’s family had been such a treat. His grandparents and great-grandmother were like an extended family to me, and I was ashamed to say it had been too long since I’d had a meal with them. They often invited me to dinner, which I accepted gladly since they always told me a lot about my mom growing up with Sílvia.

  When Violeta had started clearing the table after breakfast, I joined her in the kitchen. Joel was engrossed in conversation with his granddad, and Vóvó Deolinda was working on her crochet. I had questions I wanted to ask Violeta, but I didn’t want to ask them in front of Joel.

  I hadn’t been sure I was prepared for any of the information Violeta may or not have about my dad so asking her without anyone e
lse around felt safer, like dipping my toes in the sea to check the water temperature.

  “Avó, do you know who my father is?” I had debated about how to approach the subject, but in the end, I decided to go straight to the question I wanted to ask. Violeta was a no-nonsense woman, and I knew she’d read me like a book.

  “Ah, meu filho,” she said with nothing but care in her voice. I loved it when she called me her son. “The truth is that I wish I knew, and I am truly sorry to have to say this, but I don’t think anyone knows. The only person who might know isn’t around anymore.”

  I thought I was prepared for the disappointment, but it still surprised me when I felt it.

  “I thought Sílvia would know. When I found their journal last year I was going to ask her, but then...” I didn’t have to finish that sentence because we both knew what had happened.

  “Take a sit filho, let me tell you what I know. I don’t know if it will help, but I suppose it’s better than nothing.”

  I followed her to the kitchen table and sat clasping my hands together. She put hers on top of mine and started.

  “As you know, your mom and Sílvia were very close. They were like sisters. I knew your grandparents well, but even we weren’t as close our girls. Anyway, when Gary proposed to Sílvia they decided they would live in America after the wedding.

  Paula was quite upset at losing her best friend. It’s hard to believe, but the girls had never fought as long as they’d known each other. After Sílvia broke the news about moving to America they had their first fight. They didn’t talk to each other for a week until neither could stand being apart anymore and they made up.

  Sílvia and Gary lived in America for three years until Sílvia became pregnant with Joel. Sílvia wanted to be close to her family when Joel was born, so they came with the intention of going back to New York when Joel was a year old.”

  I didn’t dare interrupt Violeta as she was telling the story, looking back at memories she probably hadn’t needed to recall before.