“Told you his depressed ass would say that,” Dante said, stepped over, grabbed the anti-Christ by the arm, then yanked him up.“Come on, you need to walk a little and stop crying.”
Tadeo snapped, “I wasn't crying,” then wrestled his arm free and stumbled over a rock.“Can you—” He regained his footing, glared at Dante, and stressed, “I already ate.”The two stared at each other for a moment, faces tense and serious, before the soldier gave him a big smile, as if he’d realized Tadeo was admiring him.“What?”
“Nothing, nothing.How about acervecitathen?”A little beer.
Tadeo snorted.“I don't know.”
“Well, you’re gonna keep me company since I still haven’t eaten.”Dante took a few steps, brushing past Tadeo, as the anti-Christ debated returning to his mother.But as Dante was walking away, Tadeo looked over his shoulder, saw all the people again.It was late.His family would have to go home soon, were probably drinking and chattering with all the locals and migrants, as well, who he supposed were locals now too.‘The music is nice.I could stay here forever, listening.’Those sorts of thoughts embarrassed him, however, because it was absurd to feel his heart so warmed up by the sounds of amariachi.It was stereotypical;it was silly.‘If I said it right now, to Dante, he’d probably laugh.He would ask me what next?Do I get sentimental when I listen toCielito Lindotoo?Well, maybe I do.It’s what I’m fighting for.It’s what IthoughtI was fighting for.The sound of music here in the plaza again.’
“Fine,” Tadeo surrendered, then he followed, trying to ignore Dante’s amused chuckle.
Once they’d approached, the cooks and their helping friends quickly went to stack three tacos, a sliced cactus pad, and a quesadilla, with a spoonful of salsa off amolcajete, onto a plate for the anti-Christ, and though Tadeo raised his hand to quickly deny the offering, the soldier swept in and said, “Very kind of you, thank you.”Tadeo furrowed his brow before they went to one of many coolers scattered throughout the park to take a few drinks.“Get one for me,papi.”
“Did you just ask me to come with you for the free food?”Tadeo grumbled, but did as told, taking five beer bottles between his two arms, then shutting the cooler with his foot, almost smashing the hand of the soldier that he’d healed so recently.
“Everything is free now,” Dante laughed.“You’re here to help me cut the line.”Dante nudged him with the arm that also cradled his plate of food, and Tadeo grumbled that he was an asshole, but the soldier smiled.“Come on,” he said, “let’s sit.”Toward a lonesome bench, Dante walked, and when he lowered his body onto it, it was with a sigh that seemed tired, much more tired that he was letting his face show.More stiffly, he said, “Relax, will you?Things are calm for once.”Readjusting the beers in his arms, Tadeo bit down on the inside of his cheeks but supposed that he was, in fact, outrageously tense — in his neck, his shoulders — despite the relative peace.So, he settled to sit beside Dante and watched as the soldier brought the quesadilla to his mouth first, took a bite, chewed.“Mm.”He swallowed, then reached to take one of the beers from Tadeo’s hands.To open it, Dante arched his back, brought the bottle to his groin, and snapped the cap off with his belt buckle.
Tadeo swallowed, quickly turned his gaze elsewhere; out of the blue, his lungs felt emptier and his cheeks warmer.He moved to set the four other drinks on the ground, but Dante reached for another, opened it with his belt buckle as he’d done the other.“I,” the anti-Christ said, “can open it myself.”
“Just take it.”Dante shoved it back into the other man’s hand with a sterner glint in his eyes.“Stop thinking about prophecies.Enjoy the drink.Enjoy that your family is here.We don’t all have that privilege.”
Grimacing, Tadeo said, “I’m sorry,” without thinking, grasping the cold, wet drink and listing it to his lips.“If I can figure out a way to— To get you home to your mother.Another miracle.”Tepidly, Tadeo sipped.Despite its coolness, the beer burned its way down to his stomach, and the relief was immediate, as if the mere promise of drunkenness was enough to do away with his nerves.
Not replying, Dante focused on eating, and Tadeo decided to focus on drinking.
An hour must’ve passed, in near silence between them.Tadeo went for more drinks, glad to see that no one seemed protective over the supply, certainly imagining that Tadeo could will more beer into existence.Maybe he could, but Tadeo didn’t know.Occasionally, a person or family would come to him, ask for the anti-Christ’s blessing and, without knowing what else to do, he’d touch their hand, squeeze it, and then watch them leave.Tadeo had always considered himself the sort of drunk that could fool you.He could walk in a perfect line several bottles in; he could even drive, though he knew he shouldn’t; he could hold a conversation without slurring, though he’d struggle to remember a word or two.‘I wonder if Jesus ever drank to smother the terror he had for himself, of what he could do.When you’re drunk, you forget who you are, how you got here, and you’re just living for a second.When you’re drunk, you’re not divine, and you realize there’s nothing worse than being like God.’
Dante suddenly chuckled.“You wanna dance?”
Tadeo, only then, realized he’d been rocking in his seat to the rhythm of the music.“Ah.”He set his drink down, weirdly cognizant of how rocky the ground was below the bottom of the bottle.“No, no.I can’t dance.”
“What?”Dante’s laugh was breathy, giddy; he must be drunk as well.“You don’t know how to dance?How?”
Tadeo blurted: “No, I do know how to dance, actually— I used to dance a lot when I was younger.”
“I used to sing,” Dante seemingly also blurted.“I always wanted to be a singer.I’m good.”
“Aah!”Tadeo scoffed.“I don’t believe you.”
“I am, I am,” Dante insisted, his smile enormous.“Listen.”He opened his mouth, held a long, high note, then did agritothat made Tadeo burst out laughing, so hard that he doubled over, almost kicking over the beer he’d set down.“You laugh because you’re jealous.”Hiccuping, the soldier curled forward, then stumbled onto his feet.“So, dance?If you want to dance, then dance.”
“What?With you?Like we’re gay?”Tadeo was still laughing, but he shook his head.“No.No, you didn’t let me finish.I can’t dance.I dance… like a girl.I dance like a girl.”
Dante reached, took him by the shirt.“Well, I’ll dance like a girl with you.”
‘I did.My dad would teach me to dance.He said he’d always wanted a daughter, so that he could dance with her on her 15th.I wasn’t a daughter, but for a moment, I could make myself think so, to make my father happy.He was a good man, and I thought he deserved it.He deserved to have a child that he could love.’Trembling, Tadeo walked as Dante pulled him along, and when he breathed, he almost choked on a slight evening humidity.When the soldier brought him into the gathering of a dozen or two, mostly middle-aged, dancing, he took Tadeo’s hand, and he spun around under it — like a woman would.Dante pulled himself close, afterward, and Tadeo tripped only to latch onto Dante at the same time the soldier latched onto him.
‘You’re sweaty,’ Tadeo wanted to say, but he drew in trembling breaths instead, allowing the scent of Dante’s exhaustion and the liquor on his breath to lap at his face.When they began to spin together to the music, Tadeo tried not to instinctively do what he’d learned as a child, to twirl or move his hips femininely.Except, Dante did; he rolled his body, rolled his waist, bright and giggling drunkenly, and stared up at the taller man without any shame.There might’ve been a hundred eyes on them; certainly, there were whispers, and some taunts and jeers.But it was the end of the world, so no one did a thing about the two boys dancing away.The band played louder.
Abruptly, Tadeo tried to dip Dante, but they both stumbled, Tadeo nearly falling over the other’s frightened, cursing self before the two howled with laughter.Wheezing, grinning, their hands found each other again, tighter, returned to holding their bodies together, then spinning.Their surroundings blurred as they did, and in the haze, they could only see each other.
‘I’ve never danced with another guy,’ Dante wanted to say.‘I wanted to.In the college.’He’d laughed about it with Joana, but his heart painfully pumped with the memory of his soldier training.The hazings where they’d mocked him for his erection while they fucked his mouth.First time he’d fallen in love with a man.‘But fucking was just about power to them.’And humiliation.‘I have it tough enough.’They’d call him a faggot for enjoying it, and they’d called him every foul synonym forindigenousfor existing.‘I was happy to forget about it, find a girl one day, and feel like a man.But here we are, here you are.’
Tadeo was drunk enough not to think of the past, to not associate the musk of another man, or his touch, with anything horrible — briefly, briefly.Briefly, he could act like being close to another man was so new to him.In a way, it was.It wasn’t like before.He trembled, and he was feeling the flush of his face trickle down to his core, pulsing.For the first time maybe, arousal didn’t make his blood run cold or his breath ripped out of him like an intestine.“Dante, I’m— I’m gonna fucking fall,güey—” Dante laughed again, and then without warning, he reached for Tadeo’s dark-brown hair.
Still dancing, still spinning to the upbeat old song, the two men crashed their lips together, mouths molding imperfectly, tilting, trying again, trying again, intent to force their bodies together despite destiny, body, God, blood.Their teeth bashed, scraped on their already-cracked lips, and their eyes were half-shut, tired from all the liquor but refusing to sleep and think that, for any second, this kiss was a dream.
A sudden, high trumpet shocked them away from each other, and they both twisted their heads in the direction of the band, but it’d seemed unrelated — the musician having tripped over his feet briefly.And so Tadeo and Dante, slow, dropped the heavy fear from their shoulders, turned back to each other, both their cheeks pinked.Dante was quicker to recover; he laughed warmly, and then he took Tadeo’s arm, squeezed it.
