Over a Simple Cup of Tea

For Kade Coutain


A small coincidence made me land in his arms without even noticing.

He looked idle as he was sitting on one of the Hudson River’s pier benches. However, there was something, in his body perhaps, which made me wonder about him.

I told myself that I would have to talk to him because he was paying no attention. By now he was sure his black pride wouldn’t allow him to address me. No. We Latinos are hot potatoes in a city flooded with rotten French fries. I stared at him as minutes passed by as a furious
river flowing down. It was only then, that I realized who he was. I remembered I had seen him at the phone booth few blocks up the street and had admired his earrings.

Mentally, I rehearsed to find the appropriate topic and intended to start my conversation thinking the weather would be fine and not a pick-up line. Rapidly, though, his dark tender skin clouded my reasoning and forced me to spell some stupid words. I wanted -I said- to know if he wasn’t cold wearing a brief tank-top and short shorts. His
body helpless on the wind of a Mid-July summer night invited to mourn an under-the-sheets meeting. I must admit that the liberated flesh of his exposed shoulders moved my first words. Evidently, ~he knew I was lying. The night was cool but not chilly enough and anyway his body temperature was so high that even my eyes were burning.

My words were returned, finally, with the most beautiful and innocent smile. This flattered my appetite. I considered immediately prolonging this conversation somewhere else. I did it naively but he understood my signals. We followed, say, an un-classical pattern of Saturday night pickups at the West Village.

Our smiles shining as two kids that have just found their balls and could now return to the game.

The polluted memories of hard times with previous encounters did not stop us. We recognized in each other again and the topics of conversation aroused easily but firmly surrounding us both tightly. I had to use, once again, the unfortunate excuse of the "night getting colder" to invite him for a drink. To my surprise he said that he didn’t drink alcohol. Feeling embarrassed I forced my
imagination further ahead. Knowing that he was raised in an English-Caribbean island I had no remedy but treat him with a cup of tea. Of course, I was aware that Lipton would not help me to seduce anyone at that point of the night. This particular occasion proved even more difficult for he didn’t like any desserts either. My God, I thought, without alcohol nor sugar I will have to pull my brains with this guy. However, he knew I wasn’t pushing him into a sexually forced situation. He looked too special for a one night stand. He was the kind of man anyone would be tempted to follow to the end.

Thank Goodness his age had given him the speechless spontaneous sight and I was inspired by reading between the lines of his almond eyes. So we talked and talked. Mainly me of course. His nervousness speaking for himself and I dragging him out of a post-teenage inherited shyness. I pressed him out so gently, though, that he had no choice but order more tea and I, as every second flew away, loaded myself with more thoughts and hopes. I wasn’t sure though if in the infinite glass of a first encounter I could find enough water to make him drink thirstily from my full cup.

It was very late when we said goodbye and I went home alone. It wasn’t until the early morning hours that I could get some sleep. I had needed an event like this for so long that now I couldn’t re-organize my bio- rhythm when I reached the solitude of my cold empty bed.

After three weeks of silence the phone rang and he invited me out. Unknowing how badly he inflamed my mind and in-between my legs we sat next to each other and tried to concentrate on the violent movie. Then I realized that I had begun suffering the joy of having our bodies electrified by an imminent proximity. There was no need for words.

Today as I make him tea at home and serve it to him in bed everyday I look backwards and see the advantage of having had a proper conversation over a simple cup of tea.