Seven-thirty p.m. Right on schedule. I saw the
black Camry making its way towards the streetlight… towards me. My
heart thumped loud in my ears as my nervousness painfully took hold
of my body. I tapped my right foot pretending to be impatient as my
left hand stayed in my pocket. It was a technique I've learned from
the older ones on how to pick up a customer. And now, as cold sweat
broke out on my face, I tapped my foot faster… harder on the ground
as a regular customer made his way towards me. I was nervous as
always, but I was also filled with anticipation.
I was a call boy… a prostitute, a whore. I had
been one ever since my father and mother kicked me out of their
house seven months ago when I told them I was gay, a full two months
before I turned fifteen. I wandered the streets in hunger and
sadness, afraid that some syndicate would pick me up and make me a
slave. I hadn't become desperate enough to dig in garbage cans. But
I had become desperate enough to sell my body to old gay men who
couldn't find company for the night.
Believe me. I did everything I could to find a
job other than this. I had gone to the city market to see if someone
would accept me to carry loads and stuff for them. But no. Either
they're afraid of getting caught for child labor or they didn't
trust me. I had gone around offering my service as a dishwasher,
busboy, whatever, to canteens and diners around the area but to no
avail. Nobody wanted to hire me and begging never became an option
for me. I had to have a little dignity in the way I live. At least,
I didn't ask for money from people who worked hard for it. I earned
it. I sold my body, pleasure… myself. I was underpaid.
I remember my first time, the first time I've
ever had anything related to sex except jacking off. I had given my
virginity to a brute of a man. I thought he was only going to ask
for directions, because from the way he looked I would never have
expected him to have any desire for gay sex. But instead of asking
for directions, he had asked me, "How much?" I was stunned. He had
to repeat himself to get my attention again. So, I told him my
price.
"Five thousand pesos?!" he near about yelled in
shock. There seemed to be amusement in his face that failed to
escape my eyes. I was naïve, but even through that, I saw the
unmistakable hunger in his eyes. The lust. There was something in
the way he looked at me that terrified me. But I was willing to risk
anything to live. Even my life. At least, even if this brute were to
kill me afterwards, I know I tried my best to live. I tried my only
option to live. He just had to pay my price.
"I'm a virgin," I blurted out, feeling myself
shed all the innocence of my childhood with only that statement,
because in only a few moments, I know I wouldn't be able to say
those words again. In only a few moments, I would officially be part
of the game. I would officially be one of the call boys in the
street. I felt helpless. I felt desolate.
But instead of understanding me, the brute
guffawed in his SUV, laughing at me like I just told him the
funniest joke of the year while I was almost near to tears with
grief because of my dying childhood and innocence. "They always say
that!" he said, continuing to laugh, and it suddenly dawned on me
how completely foolish I was for saying that. "Fine, boy. I'll see
you around then." He chuckled one last time and was about to drive
off when I stopped him.
"Wait!" I needed to live. I wanted to live, even
if it meant selling my soul to the devil. I had never contemplated
ending my life. A lot of years lay ahead of me. I knew one day I
could change the course that my life had taken. Desperately, I asked
the man inside the 4runner, "How much do you usually pay?" The brute
smiled. We're on.
I walked out of the shabby motel at two in the
morning, one thousand five hundred pesos richer, feeling the brute's
cum running down my legs and tears running down my face. I had been
holding it back from the moment we entered the room the brute had
rented. I had been holding it back the second the brute shoved his
cock inside my ass. It had hurt like hell feeling myself getting
stretched open. But I was powerless to stop it. I had sold it to him
and he had bought it… for whatever cheap price he had wanted. I had
never felt so cheap in my life than that night.
I rode a bus to the park where I had hidden my
things. I dragged them towards the grass where I lay down, made a
pillow out of my gym bag which carried a lot of my clothes, and
cried myself to sleep hoping never to wake up again. I was a coward
to end my own life, and my cowardice had given me the bravery to
face the day ahead, if I were to wake up at all. And I did. The next
morning, I woke up with the sun beating down on me. I quickly went
to find something to eat, and then immediately went about to fulfill
my mission: to find a room to live in.
After the two weeks that I had spent sleeping in
the park, I had finally found the room I had been staying in for the
past six and a half months. Only seven hundred pesos: "Just a room,
a bed, and electric fan. The bathroom's down the hall. It's a cheap
room. I don't ask questions. You pay for one month. Leave if you
can't pay for another. If you like loud music, I don't. Buy an
earphone," the landlady had rattled off, and the first thing I did
when I was alone inside the room was to lie down on the bed and
sleep. It was heaven. At least, the pillows loved me. The landlady
was the kind of woman you would think of as your beloved
grandmother, and she lived up to her image. Every night, she invited
me to eat dinner with her. Every night, I declined her offer. I
never knew the guys living in the other rooms even though I
sometimes ran into them. I usually stayed inside my room brooding,
planning my future of golden dreams… unless I had to go about my
business once more. Then I returned to the present, the painful
present.
One night, I was standing by a streetlight
tapping my right foot and keeping my left hand imprisoned in the
warmth of my pocket. It was two nights before my fifteenth birthday.
I was irritated. I had gone over to the usual places several times
during the night but it was like everyone had vanished. I couldn't
seem to pick up anyone. I was running out of funds and this damn
streetlight was my last hope. A black Camry stopped in front of me
and its window rolled down to reveal a man in his mid-thirties, old
enough to be my father, almost all of them are. He was well built.
His pecs showed off in the tight blue tee shirt he was wearing,
telling me that he was a gym rat. Gentleness was written all over
his face, begging me to trust him. But I wouldn't be fooled.
"How much?" I had learned earlier on that I had
been lucky on my first time. Not all of them paid beyond a thousand
pesos. Still, when these old men asked me my price, I always
answered them with the price the brute had paid me. One thousand
five hundred pesos. I could never describe the misery I feel every
time I haggled with them over how much they should pay me. They
bargained with me for a few hours of pleasure which were only
torment for me. The man surprised me by agreeing to my price.
Every night I went out to… hustle myself, I would
come back to my room crying. I wished I enjoyed the sex but I never
did. It made me sick, even of myself. If this would be the way I'm
going to have sex my whole life, I'd rather jack off for the rest of
my life. But that night, I didn't come back to my room crying.
I hopped in the Camry riding shotgun. I was
pleased that at least I would have a little money for my birthday
even though I would be celebrating it alone. But I also dreaded the
fact that I was going to be having sex with a stranger again. I
reasoned to myself that it was what I needed to do to live. I looked
at the man and wondered why he would be picking me up when he could
have had anyone for free with his looks and body. He must be
married. I wonder what his wife would say if she would know of his
penchant for teenage boys.
"I want you to pretend I'm your father."
"Okay, Dad." Another one of those, I see. I had
been picked up before by a man who wanted to play father and son. He
would slap my butt telling me how much he hated my disobeying him,
my father. If I hadn't been feeling so miserable about what I was
doing, I would have burst out laughing at the man's antics. He
wanted me to say how much I loved getting fucked by daddy. I wanted
to pretend he really was my father then kick him in the balls. I
would sure love that.
Much to my surprise, the man parked his car in a
mall parking lot. He got out so I followed him but I was confused.
What were we going to do in the mall? He put an arm around my
shoulder as we went inside. I almost forgot how good my father and I
got along before he went berserk after I told them I was gay.
Somehow, in my own way, I had forgiven him because I knew he had his
reasons to react the way he did. I was his dream. I was
good-looking, popular in school; I was also brainy. I was everything
he wanted me to be except for one thing. One thing that shattered
everything else. One thing that turned his golden dreams into a
hellish nightmare. I never should have told them.
"So, have you eaten?" the man asked me.
"Yes, Dad."
The man chuckled. "I wonder why I asked. I
wouldn't take no for an answer anyway," he said as we went inside a
Taco Bell. He got food for both of us. "I never did get your name,
son."
"Kaizer."
"Wow. I like your name," he remarked smiling at
me. He really is confusing me. "I think we still have an hour to get
what you need before the mall closes."
"What I need?" I wasn't sure I heard him right.
What is he talking about? I needed money, not this.
"Humor your old man, Kaizer. We're going to have
fun," he told me. I found his words devoid of any hint of sex. He
didn't look at me the way those other men did, as if I was a prey
enticing them to devour me. Of course, the prospect of not having to
give myself again to another stranger was something I would readily
accept, but the way things are going, I was beginning to freak out.
"Ease up, son. You're too tense," he said, sensing my discomfort. We
finished our food and we went out the way we went in, his arm around
my shoulder.
We went into a shop - a watch shop from the looks
of it - and he immediately approached a sales lady who he apparently
knew. They talked for a bit while I stood dumbly just inside the
door. It was clear that they were talking about me as they keep
glancing in my direction. I wanted to go back to my room or the
streets. It was clear that I wasn't about to get any money from this
guy. I was about to slip out when the guy called me, and against my
own reason, I went over to him. "Kaizer, choose whatever you want,"
he told me, but seeing the look on my face, he shrugged his
shoulders and said, "Ok, I'll do the choosing."
He chose a watch with a white face. The numbers
were in Roman numerals and the hands were thin pieces of silver, as
was the band which was like a thousand silver threads woven into
one. The watch was automatic. I had to admit I liked it. It fit
perfectly and looked good on my wrist. At least I thought it did.
"Thanks for the watch," I said when we were already in the car.
"As long as you take care of it, Kaizer. Have you
ever been to Baywalk?" My face reddened with embarrassment. It was
one of the places I had been going to whenever I was short of funds
and I desperately needed money, and quickly. That little strip of
land along Manila Bay was a haven for hustlers. There were motels
nearby and it was rare that you would go home empty-handed. But he
didn't know that, or did he? "We'll be going there to hang out,
check the scene."
Baywalk was fun if that was your sole purpose to
be there. But if your purpose was quick cash, it was misery. You
could clearly see the indelible line between yourself and others. It
was a line that I could never cross unless there came in my life a
radical change, a change that would never drive me to sell myself
again. I didn't frequent Baywalk that much. The place made me all
the more miserable about myself.
As late as the night was when we got there, we
were still able to get a table. He bought two subs, a can of beer
for himself, and a can of Seven-up for me. Music from bands all over
the place filled the air, but they weren't loud enough for the two
of us to not be able to talk to each other. We got to know each
other watching the ships floating in the distance and soaking up the
beauty that the moon made out of Manila Bay, the beauty that was
nonexistent during the day.
"What course do you want to take in college?" he
asked. No one, not even my parents, had ever asked me what I wanted
to do in the future. They, including myself, all assumed that I was
going to be a doctor because that was what everybody wanted. The man
asked me what I wanted. Everybody else asked what I was going to be;
the answer to which, they had already made for me.
"I really don't know what I want. I always
assumed I was going to be a doctor. But looking back, it was never
what I wanted." I wanted to tell him that the issue was now moot
anyway. There was no way I could go to college. I hadn't even
finished my high school yet. But he made me forget about my current
state. He never asked me anything about the truth that was bubbling
on the surface, the truth that I was a call boy. We just chatted and
got to know each other well until at last, he said he got to go back
home already.
"So… where do I drop you off?" he asked when we
were already inside the car. His question harshly brought me back to
reality. The palace that I had built in my imagination crumbled
without a warning as I was forced to face the truth, the present. I
wondered if this was how my dad felt. It was a punch in the gut, a
kick in the balls. It was a reality check. Nothing was ever too good
to be true. They thought I was perfect, but I had one single defect,
one that they couldn't ever live with.
Despite my reservations about this man, I
inexplicably believed that he would be paying me my price. I had
argued with myself that I wouldn't accept any payment from him. He
was the one I needed to pay. He had treated me like his friend, even
his son. He had never once made any reference to how he found me and
how I live. He wanted to get to know me and he told me about
himself. He had made me feel human again. He had given me the best
birthday present.
I had asked him to drop me off at the streetlight
where he had found me. When we got there, he slipped a thousand-peso
bill and a five-hundred-peso bill in my hand just as I expected. I
just smiled at him and put it back in his hands. "I should be the
one to pay you," I said. "For what you did to me… for me tonight was
priceless. I didn't do anything for you to deserve that money."
"Kaizer, would you have wanted to do something
with me?" I was struck by the sheer implication of his words. It was
the first time he had spoken of what I do for a living the whole
time we were together although not directly. He had not spoken like
he wanted to have sex with me; he had spoken like he really wanted
to know if I wanted what I was doing. If I let my imagination run
wilder, I'd say there was concern in his voice too. But I couldn't
open my mouth. I was too busy trying to control my own emotions. I
couldn't… I didn't want to break down in front of this guy. "Kaizer,
I think I already know your answer to that question. Take the money.
Let's just say it's your allowance." I looked at him and nodded.
"And son, that watch I bought you… it is for a reason. Today is
Friday. Two weeks from now, I'll meet you here again. Seven-thirty
p.m."
"I don't know what to say."
"Just take it, son."
"Thank you."
I never had sex with anyone from the moment I
stepped out of the car that night, and I never considered having any
with anyone again until I find the guy just for me. I just kept
myself inside my room listening to the radio or my CD player.
Sometimes I watched TV with my landlady, but I still declined her
offers for dinner. I would go out sometimes and wander around the
mall, and each Friday I’d be waiting for Greg - the man's name, as I
had later found out - at that spot where he first found me. We had
fun all the time, and we came to know each other a lot better.
I’ll never forget the second time we were
together because I got to know him. I mean, I got to know he was
straight. I’ll never forget it; it was so embarrassing. That second
time, he took me to the Westin Plaza Hotel. Of course, what was I
supposed to think? The minute we were inside our room, I took off
all my clothes down to my underwear.
"Kaizer, what are you doing?" Confusion and
amusement fought in his voice. I was speechless. What are we doing
here, I wanted to ask him, but I couldn't get my mouth to cooperate.
I was actually a little hurt when we got there. I had been thinking
that I wouldn't be doing this anymore, but here we were, in a hotel
room. I just stood there almost naked, staring back at him. I
watched his face as he came to realize why I had so suddenly dropped
my clothes. He reached inside his bag and gave me swimming trunks.
"Wear these," he said, then he changed into his own trunks. "I'm not
going to do anything with you, Kaizer. You're like my son now.
Besides, guys don't turn me on." There had been no mention of what I
did for a living again after that incident. I found out later on
that he planned to go night swimming at the hotel since he had the
next day off at work.
We did a lot of stuff together during the next
five months. Around Christmas time, he took me to Boom Na Boom, an
amusement park that only opens during Christmas season. He also
bought me a cell phone as a gift, and I would send him text messages
every night from then on. There was one time when he took me to a
movie I wanted to see. I guess he was so tired from work that he
fell asleep the moment the movie started. Then another time, he took
me to Mall of Asia, and we did some ice skating. We always did
something different every time we met.
Still, he was a mystery to me. I couldn't keep
myself from wondering what his motives were. I had learned early in
life that we don't get something for nothing. He was being nice to
me, and he did make a good job of making me forget all those worries
when I was with him. But when I was alone in my room, I couldn't
help the doubting thoughts that ran through my mind. I couldn't help
but wait for the other shoe to drop. There just had to be one.
I guess I just found myself a little bit more
than nervous as I watched the black Camry heading towards me. I woke
up in the morning feeling agitated and the only reason I could come
up with was that it was Friday the Thirteenth. I never believed in
superstitions, but falling off the bed, slipping in the bathroom,
and tripping myself in the hall in this particular day were just too
coincidental. If the other shoe were to drop, it would be today.
I couldn't help but think of the story of Hansel
and Gretel. I felt like Greg was just "fattening" me up, and then he
would "eat" me later. The house made of candies, it was all for
show. I was torn between trusting the only person who had shown love
to me, and doubting the only person who could have an ulterior
motive regarding me. And they were the same person. I didn't want to
feel this way towards Greg, but somehow I was a little paranoid
today.
The car seemed to take forever to get to where I
was, but it eventually did. I almost choked, feeling my heart
beating so hard on my chest as the Camry stopped in front of me.
"Come on, get in," Greg called from the inside as soon as the window
rolled down. I hopped inside the car and Greg made a U-turn, driving
to where he came from. "You seem nervous," he commented. I guess I
was that obvious.
"I don't know. I have been ever since I woke up
this morning," I answered half-truthfully. He actually looked a
little nervous too.
"I want you to meet someone, but we'll talk a bit
first. We'll eat first." Meet someone. Now he's pimping me, I
thought sadly. I tried to act calmly even though I could feel his
betrayal filling the air. My eyes stung from the tears that I was
fighting to hold back. I never should have trusted him. But I guess
this was what life has in store for me. I was to be this way
forever.
"Kaizer, we're here." We were parked in front of
Wendy's. It was actually where I always liked to eat back when I was
still living with my parents. I loved their spicy chicken breast
fillet sandwich. "You're awfully quiet tonight, bud." He said as we
slid in a booth with our food. He looked concerned but I just
shrugged my shoulders. We ate in silence with an occasional glance
at each other.
After eating, we drove to a park. He just parked
the car and looked like he was waiting for someone. I couldn't help
myself; I had to ask. "Are we waiting for someone?"
"Well, I was waiting for you to talk to me," he
said. "I need to talk to you. You know, for the past few months we
have never talked about that part of your life." I looked at
him frightened. I was sure this was it. The other shoe.
Seeing the look on my face, Greg hastily said, "No, no, don't think
like that, Kaizer. I… I just wanted to ask you how you would like to
be adopted."
I sat in shock. I was trying to digest what he
had told me, but it was too much. "By whom?"
"By me, who else? And my wife."
"You have a wife?" I asked incredulously. What he
was telling me was just too much for me to handle; so I dwelt on
little things like him having a wife.
But I guess he would have none of that. He had
come to know me too well; he was a psychologist, after all. "Yes, I
have a wife. Let me rephrase my question, Kaizer. Would you like to
be my son? Legally, that is."
I was overwhelmed and I broke down immediately
right in front of him. I couldn't contain myself. I was bawling, and
I couldn't stop. The tears seemed to be endlessly falling down my
face. At the same time, I felt ashamed of myself for thinking
something bad of the only person who had shown me kindness and
unconditional love. But I couldn't articulate any of my thoughts and
all the things I wanted to say. There were only sobs that came out
of my mouth while Greg held me as I cried on his shoulders.
"I'm sorry," I said weakly when my crying had
gone down a bit. The shame I felt made me realize how much he
doesn't deserve to adopt someone like me - to have me as his son. He
had taken care of me, but I accused him in my own mind of having
ulterior motives. Instead of being grateful to him, I doubted
everything that he has done for me. "You don't deserve me. You
deserve someone better."
I turned around and opened the door to get out. I
had one foot on the ground when Greg's arms clamped around my waist
like a vice-grip. My strength vanished. I didn't try to fight him. I
just sat with my back to him crying softly to myself. "Why do you
think I don't deserve you? I want this more than anything. I don't
want you back in the street, back in harm's way."
So I told him. I told him how much I thought that
he has motives for being kind to me. I told him how much I doubted
him. I told him I thought he was liar. "You said, you wanted me to
meet someone. I thought it was a customer and you were pimping me,"
I said ashamedly, finally turning to face him. I knew I had hurt his
feelings. "I'm sorry."
"That's perfectly understandable, Kaizer. I would
have thought the same thing if I were in your place. I want you as
my son," he said emotionally. His arms were still clamped around my
waist and I suddenly found myself hugging him back. I laid my head
on his shoulder and cried harder. I cried for the past seven months
of my life. I cried from the rejection and the hate of my parents…
the loneliness that I was subjected to. But mostly, I cried for joy.
"Thank you very much… Dad. Thank you."
"You made me glad, Kaizer. Come on now, and let's
meet your mom and brother."
I could never have known how Friday the
Thirteenth could change my life. Seven months ago, I was kicked out
of the only home I knew by the only mother and the only father I
knew. I lived in the streets for two weeks, unsuccessfully looking
for jobs to feed myself. The futility of which drove me to sell my
own body to strangers just for a meal every day and a roof above my
head. Then, I met this man who showed me kindness. He showed me love
in exchange for nothing but for me to be his son. He had given me a
new option to live my life, one that I was willing to take.
I met my new mom and my new brother in my new
home. It seemed that that was how everything felt to me right now -
new. They were the most loving people I have ever known after
everything that had happened to me. They didn't even seem like they
had just adopted me; they seemed like they had known me my whole
life. They gave me love as freely as Greg did.
And they had the explanation as to why I was
adopted right off the street. Karl, my new brother - I didn't even
ever think of him as my adopted brother - was like me. He was also a
call boy who was picked up from the street and given a home to live
in a year ago. Like me, he had been kicked out of his home for being
gay, and he suffered through the time he was in the street much more
than I had.
I had learned that Greg had made it a mission to
adopt him the moment he saw him and the same went for me. He and his
wife weren't blessed to be able to have children, but they never
took it badly. In fact, it made their love stronger, seeing that
there wouldn't be anyone but each other in the future. As for me, I
knew I would be there for them anytime they needed me. They had
given me a new life, and that new life included them.
Greg brought me back to my boarding house that
night. He told me he would be picking me up the next day for
something important. He didn't tell me we would be going back to my
house and my parents. He brought a lawyer with us, and the four of
them went into the dining room to talk while I was instructed to get
any stuff I would like from my room. We took my things to my new
home and also picked up what little stuff I had from the boarding
house.
I still can't forget the look of hate my parents
gave me that day, and it saddened me deeply that our once perfect
family had gone down the drain. I had blamed myself for it, but over
time, Greg had helped me realize that none of it was my fault. My
parents didn't love me as unconditionally as they had said they did.
The court hearings also breezed by, probably because my parents
cooperated with whatever Greg wanted. It was like they wanted me out
of their lives fast. The judge was too busy with his clogged docket
to even give it much thought, and I was soon carrying Greg's name.
I was enrolled in school as a junior like Karl,
my brother. We were the best of brothers and friends there was, and
the fact that we were both gay made us much closer. We never did
become boyfriends, although when we started dating other guys there
was jealousy. But we quickly got over that and talked with each
other about what we really wanted. We decided to just continue being
brothers and support each other through everything.
I met Vincent, the love of my life, in law
school. He was the most beautiful guy I had ever seen, and he had
the most beautiful soul I had ever known. He had accepted my past
saying it was a part of what made me all the more wonderful. He
liked to joke that I turned him gay because - he says - he had never
looked at a guy before I came. My family liked him a lot. We had
made a commitment to love each other even beyond afterlife, and we
intend to keep it.
Oh, and
I finally took my former landlady up on her offer for dinner.
