In Safe Hands - 9. Chapter 9

In Safe Hands
by Riley Jericho

Chapter Nine

"I'm going to make two things for the tapas starters," pronounced Miguel. "You can help and do one of them."

Elliott grinned as, serious now, Miguel started preparing his work area in the apartment's small kitchen.

After they had shopped, everyone was ready for something to drink and they’d collapsed into chairs and ordered in a local café, before once more squeezing into the hot stuffy cars, to make the journey back to the apartments. Once home, other than dumping multiple bags of clothing in his room, Elliott and Miguel went up to one floor to start cooking.

Back in his own home again, Miguel had made himself comfortable once more. Divesting himself of ‘excess’ clothing, the spicy red chef took up position in the kitchen.

"How long, Mama?" He turned the pages of the cookbook until he found what he was looking for.

Isobella was already well into the main course - a classic seafood paella which he knew was stunning. The smell of the already simmering prawns was delicious and his mouth was watering. "Don't make it too hot Mama - the kids might not like it," he warned. Her paella could also be rather spicy if she wasn't careful.

"Yes Miguel. I DO know how to cook you know," she returned patiently.

"I know you do - I'm just saying..."

Isabella Ortiz and Elliott exchanged another look. She liked Elliott. For a foreigner - an American even - he was, unexpectedly, a nice young man. She tasted the pungent flavours of her dish and reached for the rice jar.

“I'll be about thirty minutes, max,” she announced. “Can you put two bottles of white wine in the freezer to cool a little, Miguel? We’re going to have to eat in the lounge near the balcony, so would you two help by moving the furniture out of the way? And can you set up the dining table AND the table from outside? And we're going to need more chairs..." She paused and turned her head in the direction of the balcony. "Manny…"

"I think he's off with my dad somewhere, Señora Ortiz," said Elliott. "Do you want me to go and find him?"

Such a polite boy, Isabella Ortiz sighed. She hoped her Miguel would learn something from him!

"Elliott, call me Isabella, please. Well, we're going to need more chairs from somewhere unless some sit on the couch."

"Maybe we can bring up some chairs from our place?"

"Pick up your chairs and eat. Isn't that in the Bible, Mama?" Miguel smirked.

"I believe it's 'pick up your bed and walk', you irreverent little boy!” she returned, pursing her lips. “Didn't you listen to anything in Sunday School?"

"You go to Sunday School?" asked Elliott in surprise as they started to push the excess furniture out of the way.

Miguel stopped and looked sad - almost in pain. "I...I used too," he admitted. His eyes looked haunted.

Shit, fretted Elliott, now what had he done? He knew he shouldn't pry, but couldn't help but ask. "What happened?"

"They threw me out for wearing no trousers," Miguel replied, holding it long enough that he could see Elliott teetering on the edge of believing it. Then he snorted with laughter.

"YOU TOAD! I almost believed you!"

"Miguel!" came his mother's warning voice. "Behave! And don't forget the wine."

"Yes Mama." He sounded dutiful, but his face was a picture.

They pushed the two tables together but, after arranging what chairs there were around them, it clearly wasn’t going to be anywhere near enough. Leaving Miguel to prepare his tapas starters and, with the help of the two dads who had magically reappeared, Elliott went to find more.

Hurrying down to their apartment, they brought up another table, and then one by one. By the time he returned with the first haul Miguel was in full flow and, had – quite magically - added a pair of shorts and a tee shirt to his attire.

"Mama thinks I need to dress up for visitors," he bemoaned.

"I don't count as a visitor then," returned Elliott, crossing his arms and trying to look hurt.

Miguel cocked his head to one side and a small smile twitched across his lips in amusement. "You, Elli? A visitor?" he replied. "No, I don't think so." With that, he turned back to the chopping board.

The last of the chairs came with a posse of Carters, all eager for something to eat. Leaving them in the hands of Miguel's parents, Elliott came back into the kitchen where a lone Miguel was still hard at work on his tapas starters.

Okay – I’m here! What can I do?” As he wiped his sweaty hands on his shirt, he suddenly remembering why he had been carrying shorts in one hand and shirt in the other. “Oh, and I bought your stuff back," The still-damp underwear was tucked carefully inside.

"There’s a wash basket in my bathroom. Just throw them in there. Then you can come and do the bread."

Miguel’s tongue was sticking out, as he concentrated on alternately feeding pieces of ham and prawns onto skewers. Elliott watched him, in amusement, as he patiently slid one thing after another onto the steel. Miguel looked up with a frown. "Well, hurry up then..."

"Is this Miguel's room?" Sam had escaped from the lounge and pushed by Elliott at Miguel’s bedroom door. He, after dumping the dirty clothing in the wash basket, was trying to leave. Forcing his way past Elliott, Sam jumped into the beanbag that Miguel used instead of an armchair, and then rolled off to grab for the guitar on its stand. Before Elliott could stop him, his younger brother was acting the rock star.

"Put it down and get out!" Elliott ground.

"Don't tell ME what to do!" retorted Sam, ignoring him. "What are YOU doing in here anyway?"

Elliott felt his blood beginning to boil. BLOODY SAM!

"Sam - come out of there, please." Though the words his mother used sounded reasonable, Elliot could tell that the tone was not to be messed with. Brazenly, Sam ignored her...until she arrived at the door.

"NOW!"

He pulled a face, let the guitar crash to the floor where he stood and marched out. Elliott retrieved the instrument from the floor and carefully replaced it on its stand. He was still irritated when he got back to the kitchen.

“Just be glad you don’t have a brother,” he muttered.

“Don’t let him get to you, Elli – and come and do this bread,” said Miguel easily. He showed Elliott how to take the slightly toasted bread, rub it first with garlic and then smear it with a half-cut tomato, squeezing the juice out slightly onto the toast, before finally drizzling olive oil over the whole lot.

“OK – your turn – but you need to wash your hands first.”

Elliott did as he was told and then embarked on the mound of bread. In the meantime, Miguel took the two-dozen skewers he’d made and put them under the grill, turning them every few moments until they were ready.

His mother had made a seafood salad and the main course was on low heat, ready to eat whenever.

At last they were both ready and they transferred the first course into the impromptu dining room, where the adults were already enjoying chilled wine and popping olives.

“Can Elli and I have a little wine, Mama?” pleaded Miguel, bargaining the success of his tapas for some payback.

“A little – and only with lemonade.”

“And Elli?

Isabella glanced questioningly at Rose Carter, who nodded, feeling it would be rude to do anything else. Sam, of course, wanted to try some too, but spat it out quickly - much to everyone’s amusement.

Overall, Elliott thought that the meal was brilliant. As good as eating out, any day. Even Sam seemed to be in a good mood as they played a version of ‘Charades’ to keep him and Natty occupied.

* * *

After eating, all the younger ones, including Miguel and Elliott were keen to get to the pool once more. The women decided that the children needed supervising and left Benedict and Manny holding tea towels, and with the job of putting the apartments back together again. The edge had gone of the burning heat and it was glorious in the water!

The arrival of the weekend had also brought a new family who were venturing out for the first time in the Spanish heat, skins pale and ready to burn! A young British couple in their 20’s, they arrived with two boys who were aged somewhere between Sam and Natty. The parents seemed quite relieved that there were people there who could speak English.

The husband had a shaved head and, up his arms and around his shoulders, was covered with tattoos – a trait that Rose could never understand and thought looked gross on a man. He was surprisingly shy and soft spoken. The girl was quiet too and the couple kept to themselves. The kids, however, became fair game for Sam, who decided to take charge and arrange their lives for them.

As Rose and Isabella watched, the younger of the two boys timidly approached Natty at the poolside, down at the far end. They couldn’t tell what she said, but the five year old planted her hands on her hips and the boy retreated with alacrity!

“She’s going to break hearts, that one,” observed Isabella with a smile.

“Tell me about it!” Rose replied, recalling the number of hearts she’d, somewhat ruthlessly, left sliced and diced in her time. “You never wanted more than one?” she asked, dropping her sunglasses back into place again.

“We had a little girl, but lost her as a baby,” Isabella sighed.

“Oh, Isabella, I’m so sorry,” cried Rose softly, sitting forward to briefly touch the older lady on the arm. She resisted asking ‘what happened’. Only a mother could know what excruciating pain losing a child would bring. The last thing that would be needed, would be to keep reliving it and explaining it to others.

Isabella Ortiz shrugged lightly. “She died...soon after birth, they said. It was a shock. These things happen.” They were quiet for a few moments. ‘These things happen’ seemed so inadequate for such a tragedy. “We tried for a long time, to no avail, but then Miguel came along…I call him ‘my little miracle’!”

Rose looked over to where the ‘miracle’ and her own son were engrossed in conversation at the edge of the pool.

“I had Elliott soon after we were married," she said. "And then Sam a few years later. I thought it would be just boys, and didn’t plan any more than two anyway, but,” she smiled to herself in recollection, “little madam over there was – how to put it - our little surprise! I wouldn’t exchange her for the world now, though.”

“Ah!” said Isabella. The two mothers exchanged knowing glances.

“You can be sure I sent Benedict in for the snip, shortly after!” Rose smirked. Before long both mothers were giggling uncontrollably.

* * *

Down in the pool, Elliott and Miguel watched them from a distance.

“What’s up with them?” Miguel wondered.

“Who knows?” replied Elliott. “By the way, do you know what movie your mom got for tonight?”

Miguel dropped over the side and slipped into the water again, kicking easily from the edge. He nodded. “It’s called ‘Pay it Forward’.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Sure you have – it’s got that kid in it.”

“What kid?”

“I can’t remember his name…he was in that movie with that guy a couple of years ago. The Die Hard guy.”

“Bruce Willis?”

“Exactly. You must have seen it….’The Sixth Sense’”

Elliott looked blank.

“With all the dead people….?”

Elliott continued to look blank.

“Geez! Anyway he’s in this movie.”

“Bruce Willis.” Elliott looked hopeful.

“No – the kid... that’s it, I remember now, Joel something.”

“Haley Joel Osment. He was in A.I. too," grinned Elliott. He and Sam had gone to see 'A.I. Artificial Intelligence' at the cinema, not so long ago.

Miguel splashed him. “You knew exactly who I meant!”

“I haven’t seen ‘Pay it Forward’, though,” admitted Elliott, laughing. He was about to add something when a voice called out from the beyond the gate.

“HOLA!”

Elliott waved both arms animatedly to the boy standing politely by the gate. “Hey! Alejandro! Come on in!”

A lanky teen unhooked the latch and closed it behind himself.

“Mom – this is our friend Alejandro. He plays volleyball with us at the beach.”

Alejandro turned to the ladies and applied his best lopsided grin. Rose recognised him, having wandered across to the nets a few times to see her son play.

“Hello Alejandro. It’s nice to meet you.”

Nodding once more to the ladies, Alejandro came and sat on the side of the pool adjacent to where Elliott and Miguel were swimming.

“Hola!” he called again to the English couple. They stared back, mystified.

“This is our friend, Alejandro. He said ‘Hi’” translated Elliott, for their benefit. ”They don’t speak Spanish,” he added as the couple waved back in their direction.

“We missed you this morning.” Alejandro turned away form the Brits and, though he was speaking to the two of them, Miguel could see that his eyes were on Elliott.

What do you want Alejandro, he ground silently to himself.

“We had to go shopping,” replied Elliott. “Did you lose?”

Alejandro shrugged, not saying whether they had won any games or not. “Shopping?” he probed. “What for?”

None of your business!

“Oh - you know - just clothes and stuff,” said Elliott. “And I got some new speedos…what do you think?” he added enthusiastically, heaving himself out, to show Alejandro the only thing he’d recovered from the bags after lunch.

“Hey – they’re amazing!” Alejandro murmured. His wide eyes were locked onto the creamy-white fabric, until Miguel hauled himself out off the water too, and planted himself in between the two of them. To one side, Elliott took a dive back into the pool, and both Miguel and Alejandro followed his trajectory, watching him enter the water with a small splash.

“Nice,” murmured the lanky local teen.

“How did you know where we lived?” Miguel tried to keep his tone light and friendly, and Alejandro’s eyes off Elliott.

“Oh – Hugo told me.” Alejandro glanced back over the pool. “I came to ask if you were going to come to the party.”

“Party? What party?” called Elliott from the middle of the water. Alejandro slipped off his cheap thong sandals, sat on the edge of the pool, and dipped his rather dusty feet into the water.

“Tomorrow…at Estela’s. It’s her birthday,” he said. “You should come. Both of you. Well, she’s inviting everyone, so I’m sure it’ll be alright.”

“Estela?” Elliott looked brightly to his friend. “What do you think Miguel?”

It was a big effort for Miguel. Alejandro was fishing, he was sure of it. It seemed clear to Miguel what—or more likely who—he was hoping to land! He knew what he WANTED to say, but instead shrugged lightly. “Sure – why not? Is it okay for us to go Mama?” he added. If she said no, that would solve it.

“I don’t see why not,” Isabella replied. “We know Estela’s parents a little,” she added, for Rose’s benefit. She didn’t know much about Alejandro other than, of all the times she had seen him around in that small group, she’d never seen him wearing anything else than those faded red shorts and well-worn tee shirt. Estela Garcia Fernandez, however, came from good stock. If only her son would notice!

“If you’re happy for Miguel to go, it’s fine for Elliott.” Rose could hardly believe her ears. Her eldest son wanting to go to a party? Would miracles never cease! She called across to her son. “Sure honey. If you want to go, that’s fine.”

Unsurprisingly, Sam piped up. “I wanna go too!”

“Not this time, Sam. We’ll do something else,” sighed his mom.

“WHAT?” demanded Sam. He didn’t really want to go to a party with his brother, but he expected – and knew he would get – something else, instead.

“Something. I promise,” sighed his mother resignedly.

“Well, I need to go,” said Alejandro after few moments. “Will you be at the beach tomorrow?” His eyes were back on Elliott again.

“We’ll be there!”

On his way out Alejandro offered a polite farewell to the two mothers. He even looked over to the British couple, who looked back in alarm. It looked like he was going to say something to them, but then shook his head and didn’t bother.

“Come on – I’m getting wrinkly and it's getting cold,” said Elliott after a few more minutes swimming back and too. They had been out for quite a while and the sun had finally left the surface of the water and was fast slipping out of the pool enclosure. “Let’s go in. You can make me a pot of tea.”

"Mom, we're going to go back up," he said to his mother, as he and Miguel dried themselves off, gathered their towels and let themselves out of the gate.

"If you find your father, wake him up!" Rose called after the retreating figures.

Taking the stairs up three floors, they went straight to the Ortiz apartment, to find the two dads on standing over an easel on the balcony. Manny Ortiz was working with his new pupil. They hardly heard the greeting, so engrossed they were in their discussion, and the boys retreated to Miguel's room.

"I'm getting a shower. Do you want one?" checked Miguel.

Elliott shook his head. "No. I'm fine."

"I stink of chlorine, that's all," explained Miguel. "I won't be a minute."

Elliott sniffed his own arm and his nose wrinkled. "Mmmm - I see what you mean. OK, I'll have a quick one, after you."

Not quite true to his word, Miguel was out in four minutes, a thick heavy towel around his waist. Five minutes after that, Elliott, refreshed by soap and chlorine-free water, returned with a towel too. He wasn't at all surprised to find that Miguel, back in his own sanctuary once more, was wearing only his briefs. He recognised the hot orange from the hangers in the store. Further, as he expected, Miguel pointed to a pile on the chair.

"Underwear and a shirt for you. The shorts from yesterday are probably still good if you want to get them from the basket. If not, you can find some others. They're in that drawer there." He pointed to the last to bottom of the five-drawer chest. "If you want deodorant, there's some on the top there. I'm going to put the kettle on. Oh, and Mama had a spare brush that I borrowed, if you want to get your wild hair under control!"

Laughing, he left Elliott by himself to get dressed.

For an inexplicable moment, Elliott was wistful. As he rubbed himself dry and slipped on the warm chocolate underwear that Miguel had provided, he reflected that wouldn't actually have minded if Miguel had stayed. With satisfaction, he tested the familiar snug fit of what he’d drawn on, and examined himself critically in the mirror. It was like Miguel had said whilst they were choosing clothing; if you have to wear them all day, clothing - even underwear - should be enjoyed. Not just put up with!

The point was, that if Miguel had have stayed, it would have been nice to have heard him say 'yep, they look great’! A confirmation, that they had been a good choice, because he had a pair of his own now. EXACTLY like these! He’d chosen them at the store, earlier that day, because they had a good colour. They’d also come with the lighter grey band, rather than black. In fact, most of the briefs he'd gone for had been like that. Other than the speedos, they, along with everything else, was packed in one of the multiple bags in his room.

Liking what he saw - and maybe it was a bit more of Miguel's influence - he was in no particular hurry to cover up. First, he took the deodorant and liberally sprayed his pits. Then, after toweling dry his long blond hair, he patiently began to brush it out.

Alejandro was quite cool, he mused. He brushed the tangles out; down in front of him first, and then brushed back around his neck and shoulders, until the familiar wavy spring began to return. It was nice to have friends again. Even when he’d ventured out, in some if the places they’d lived, the cool, popular kids usually ignored him - or worse. To him, Alejandro was both cool AND popular! And, a party? That might even be fun!

As he finished his hair, Miguel returned with two mugs. "Sorry I took a while. Our dads wanted a cup too."

He’d actually been standing by the door for some time; trying not to stare at Elliott, as he’d watched him work on his hair in front of the mirror. His nose picked up the after-tones of soap and deodorant. He could see that the simple, warm, light chocolate briefs fitted flawlessly. Even more so, than on himself. They looked completely edible!

Don't go there Miguel, he warned himself, tearing his eyes away. He put one of the mugs down on his desk and turned on his CD player, searching a huge stack of disks until he found one he wanted.

"What do you listen to?"

"Anything, I guess," replied Elliott, reaching around him for the drink. "Whatever's on. Thanks for the tea, by the way."

A few moments later, energetic, but quite soulful flamenco music filled the room. Elliot smiled. It reminded him of the music of Latin America, transporting him into far away memories. Studying the case, he read the details. He’d never heard of the ‘Gypsy Kings’ before, but liked it immediately.

Taking his tea, he sipped the hot sweet drink and studied the world outside, standing in the early evening rays, still reaching through the window. Part of him was aware that he hadn't actually finished dressing. In the warmth of the late sun and, as the Gypsy Kings flowed around him, the moment seemed past where that actually mattered. Relaxed and comfortable, he yawned. The impact of a little too much wine with their lunch; his glass magically topped up by Miguel, without the parents noticing!

“It’s not that bad, is it?”

Turning, he grinned. “The Gypsy Kings? No, I like it. What time is it, by the way?"

"Seven."

"When's the video?"

"Mama said about eight."

He grunted and lay down on the bed, setting down the mug on the bedside table. Rolling comfortably onto his front, within a minute, he was sound asleep.

Miguel turned down the music and settled too, as quietly as possible, into his enormous oversized beanbag. He gazed across at Elliott. It had to be the most perfect moment.

Elliott was so impossibly beautiful, it almost hurt. Maybe that was why Alejandro irritated him so much, because he was convinced he knew what he was after. Even though he’d decided to not push himself on Elliott, he absolutely refused to stand by and see anyone else do that! Call it jealousy if you like, he didn’t care!

And as for this party the following day? Well, he’d face that in the morning.

Elliott’s shoulders moved in time with his breathing. The reddened skin, where the sun had caught him, had browned off and that thick mop of golden hair flowed down carelessly. As his legs had tanned, the lighter hair had begun to show in contrast. A slight cut-off in skin tone, half way up his thighs, indicated the line where his swim shorts ended.

Looking towards the sleeping boy, Miguel felt warmly honored.

Elliott could get so tongue-tied; incredibly shy for someone who had travelled the world, and spoke something of God knows how many languages! How someone so gifted and so cute could, unlike his younger brother and sister, find it so difficult to socialize was beyond him.

What he did know was this: for Elliot to feel comfortable enough with him to crash on his bed and just go to sleep like this, was quite a thing. For him also to decide it was okay to relax here in his underwear, just as he himself did, was a minor miracle!

The shopping together; wearing Miguel's clothes - even underwear – and that hilarious boner in the changing rooms that had surprised them both. He was honored by the trust that Elliott was beginning to express.

He wished there could be more - but there wouldn't be.

And that was alright.

Tired too now, he curled up in the beanbag and joined Elliott in sleep and dreams.