In Safe Hands - 14. Chapter 14

In Safe Hands
by Riley Jericho

Chapter Fourteen

For someone who found guys bodies a WHOLE lot more interesting than anything usually found on the top shelf of the magazine displays, Alejandro usually tried hard not to fit the stereotypes that got pushed onto people like him.

He'd ‘come out’ to his family, and then his friends, probably because he was too proud - pig headed? - to do anything other than say it how it was. It had always been that way for him.

Born near the start of the school year, he was one of the older ones of that intake, and knew how to hold his own. Being tall helped too and, throughout school, few people messed with him. By most, though, he was well liked.

However, his strong, determined personality, created an awful internal conflict. Forgive the pun, but he was known for being straight with people; saying it how it was. He expected others to do the same for him…except he’d started to carry a deep secret, and it was messing with his head!

Finally he’d buckled and had had to talk to SOMEBODY. He’d dropped an ‘unsubtle’ hint to Estela and she’d pounced on it and then squeezed the FULL truth out of him! Shit – what a relief THAT had been when she didn’t run off screaming...or worse.

She’d been fine with it, apart from she’d said he really had to tell his parents about his sexuality. He’d demanded to know whether, if it had been her in this situation, she would do the same? She’d shrugged and said no. That wasn’t the point, she’d said. He was different. He had to tell them. She knew him well enough, and she was probably right.

He came from a large family. With ten kids of various ages, he was somewhere in the middle. Even though three of the older ones had moved out to their own places, the house was still packed full, and he shared a bedroom with two of his siblings. Like most big families, they’d learned to get along surprisingly well. Theirs was a home where everyone still squeezed in around the big table to eat together, and one person’s business was everyones business. Neither of his parents earned much, but, much more importantly, they were always there for the large flock of kids they had created.

It took him ages to find the right moment to come clean, with Estela calling almost every night from her boarding school, to check on him. In fact she called so frequently, the whole family were convinced that something was going on between the two of them! He kept denying it, she kept ringing, and they stopped believing him!

The problem was, he first just wanted to talk it through with his parents, but you only had to see the size of their house to realise that getting them alone was utterly impossible. Finally, after weeks of phone calls, he got his chance, offering to go with them to the supermarket, to help with the weekly food shop.

Alone in the car, and feeling really nervous, he almost balked, but then fumbled it out as best he could. To say that they were a rather taken aback was a bit of an understatement. They were pretty accepting of most things, but probably never, ever expected that homosexuality would touch their family.

It wasn’t that they screamed at him or had thrown him out, but that first talk had left him feeling uncomfortable and deflated. It didn’t seem to end well. His Dad seemed to clam up on him, and if he hoped they would throw there arms around him and tell him they’d already guessed and it was fine, he was disappointed. Nothing more was said and, getting out of the car with the bags of shopping, they all went in the house, acting as if nothing had happened. It left him feeling low, convinced he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life!

It must have taken them some time to process it because, several days later, they took him out for an early evening snack.

Just him alone. It was something almost unheard of in their family!

It had caused a bit of a rumpus, as his siblings wanted to know why he got to go out to the cafeteria, and not them. On the other hand, for his mum and dad to take him out like that was quite special, and he knew it was probably going to be okay with them.

Most of the cafes were a bit full for the topic they needed to cover so, in the end, they just got some ice-cream cones and found a quiet place to talk. They asked lots of questions – most of them good, some really embarrassing. He told them how it was, as best as he could.

After that, he did get his hug.

He told them he wanted to come out to the others, and they accepted that, and agreed with him that it would be okay to tell the rest of the family. Two days later, the whole clan was seated around the big table after dinner. Supported by his parents, he explained how he felt.

In fact, that meeting was a hell of a lot easier than when he’d tried to explain it to his mum and dad in the first place! The youngest and oldest ones didn’t seem to care, either way. From the others there were lots of questions, some of which were a bit lewd, came with lots of giggling, and were deftly handled by a warning tap from the back of his mum’s hand!

Everyone wanted to know what had happened with him and Estela, and did he now have a boyfriend? Off which the answers were nothing and no!

Then, with Estela on hand, he’d told the rest of his friends.

Most were surprised at first - some even a little shocked when he’d declared his sexuality. Other than telling his immediate friends, he didn't need to do much more. It got out soon enough and was a big story at school for a while. Even that soon blew over.

His biggest disappointment was that, in their whole school – and it wasn’t small - nobody else stepped forward at the time, to come out as gay too. Whether that was because there weren’t any others, or because they weren’t being honest, he didn’t know. He suspected the latter.

He guessed he'd been lucky at school. There'd been a few nasty comments, but not much. Most of those were from guys in his class, complaining that they didn't want him checking them out in the changing rooms. He ignored them - which didn't mean he wasn't doing it. Maybe there was some truth in the stereotype after all? But for God's sake! He was gay and he liked guys. A lot. What else was did anyone think was going to happen?

Still, for the sake of those trying to defend him, he tried not to be too obvious!

This time, he was failing miserably.

He did feel a touch guilty, however. Days of obsessing over Elliott Carter had left him with a rather unhealthy fixation, wanting to know what the American looked like in those places to which his daydreams kept shifting. He'd guessed he might 'accidently' find out if they ‘happened’ to change together, so had kept an eye out, ready to follow him into the tent if Elliott intended going swimming.

Estela would kill him if she knew what he was doing, but he ended up getting a lot more than he bargained for!

* * *

Alejandro began to exchange his own well-worn jeans, for his usual red shorts. He often never bothered with underwear, most of it shared by one of his brothers, and pre-worn by elder siblings anyway. He tried not to stare but, being surrounded by a posse of, particularly hot, naked guys, he couldn’t help himself.

First there was Elliott himself. He was process of undressing, but had stopped half way, caught up in a discussion about volleyball with Marco, who’d been there when they arrived. Alejandro joined in that conversation too. He stood at just the right angle so he could let his eyes drift over to where Elliott - standing adjacent to Miguel - was poised only in his underwear.

Nice colour. They fitted well too, Alejandro decided as he secretly admired Elliott's firm backside. A lot of guys were going for boxers these days, but not Elliott? Marco, for instance. He went for boxers, though his were definitly colouful! You wouldnt miss HIM in the dark, he sniggered silently.

"We should get together - what do you think Ale?"

Alejandro yanked his eyes up from where they were fixed on Marco, flustered by his question.

"Our volleyball teams,” Marco repeated. “I was saying we should get our teams together and play a match,"

"OOHHH - yep - great idea!"

"Let's do it soon," pleaded Elliott. "I'm not going to be here much longer."

"When do you leave," questioned Marco.

Alejandro didn’t stay focused on the continuing conversation long, as Elliott continued to change, slipping off his briefs as the two of them kept talking. He held his breath for the exciting 'reveal'...

…and…

…other than having fairer skin and light hair, Elliott didn’t really look any different from any other guy their age. Cute enough but… Alejandro shrugged to himself feeling a bit foolish and wondering what he'd actually been expecting. So, the guy had light brown pubes and a dick…big news! Still - if you took the whole thing - the long blond flowing hair, sexy bum and cute dick, he wasn't a complete disappointment! He smirked to himself, smothering another grin.

Miguel was the same he decided, as Miguel caught his eye as he pushed his jeans and underwear off in one fell swoop, dumping them on the table. It left him little chance to see what style of underwear Miguel favoured.

Nothing there that was much different from what turned up week in, week out, in the changing rooms; but quite sexy nonetheless, he decided. He watched Miguel stare around himself, clearly looking for his speedos and showing off a reasonable crop of dark curls.

Unlike Marco who HAD to have trimmed his! Damn, thought Alejandro, going back to the older teen. Trimming your pubes? That was actually quite hot!

His eyes flicked back in Miguel’s direction again.

Miguel Ortiz had always been a mystery to him. He was never around long enough for any of them to really get to know him. Certainly not well enough to call him a close friend. He’d always seemed nice enough, but seemed to keep himself to himself, even when they were down at the nets.

And, if the way he'd been treating him this last week was what he was REALLY like, then that was how it was gonna stay, Alejandro decided balefully.

Just at that moment, Miguel turned and Alejandro saw the teen’s eyes flash down at his own naked groin, before jerking up and locking briefly with his.

SHIT! What was that??!! Did Miguel just do what he THOUGHT he just did?

Then, with another unpleasant, glowering frown, Miguel turned away, returning to search again through his towel and clothing, leaving Alejandro once more with the feeling that Miguel somehow despised him. He ground his teeth and strove to ignore him.

* * *

“Come on Marco, hurry up!” complained the dark swarthy kid impatiently. The heavens grumbled above them. “I wanna go in the pool!”

“You go. I won’t be long.”

“Suit yourself,” the swarthy kid grunted. He scowled at the others, and the boys paused what they were doing as he passed between them and left the tent.

“Not many beaches in England then, Elliott?”

“Pardon?” Elliott turned back after watching the other one go. He’d been quite enjoying talking to the one he now knew was called Marco, but was glad the other one had left. Creepy guy…

“Beaches – in the UK – and warm weather. I guess you don’t get to play much volleyball there?” Marco, pulled off his own tee shirt at last, and dropped it with the rest of his clothing. Having already slipped out of his jeans and brightly colour boxer briefs, he got into the same state as the rest of them.

“Beaches? No, I don’t think so. Not without freezing your bits off!” Elliott giggled. Not many weeks previously the family had taken a day trip down to the south coast, to be faced with stoney beaches and freezing grey water. Even Sam hadn’t wanted to go in!

In the circumstances, his comment was maybe a bit risqué! Even so, he couldn’t help but glance at Marco’s own 'bits' again. Sitting back on one of the tables to take his socks off, Marco smiled back. “I know what you mean,” Marco smirked. “We had a holiday in England, two years ago." He reached for his swim shorts to pull them on. "I mean what's the point in going to the beach if you can't play volleyball?"

Elliott froze.

His breathing quickened, as memory flashes threatened to overwhelm him. Images. Words. A name...

Edgardo.

"Edgardo," he murmured, still staring at Marco, without really seeing him.

"Edgardo?” Marco looked bemused. “Who's Edgardo?"

"I..." Elliott stumbled. "He...errr..nothing..."

Even Miguel stopped searching for his speedos, and looked at him curiously.

Distracted, Elliott stared at the pair he had bunched up in his hand, not quite able to figure out why they were black instead of white. Edgardo. Edgardo Morales. How come he’d forgotten?

‘What's the point in going to the beach if you can't play volleyball?’ That was something Edgardo used to say all the time!

Edgardo. The boy who’d been his closest friend. A long time ago.

Elliott stared, almost hungrily, at Marco again, as the boy stood to draw up his swim shorts, noting the guy's penis hanging heavily. More adult than boy. Shave off a few years and he even looked a bit like Edgardo!

How old had he been then, he wondered? Eight? Nine?

No, he must have been eight or so when they'd moved back to Brazil. To a city by the sea, with amazing beaches. Almost the first day, even whilst they were still unloading dozens of well-packed DHL boxes, Edgardo had stuck his nose in he door. He lived in the same gated, housing complex that the company had located them this time, and came knocking, inviting him to come out and play.

One of the first really good friends he'd had in a long while, the two of them quickly became inseparable. As soon as Edgardo got back from school on a weekday, or at weekends, they would be out and about together. Quite like Sam was now really, Elliott realised.

It had been partly because of Edgardo that he'd really got into beach volleyball. Even now, after all these years, he felt caught in complex eddies of emotion that pulled at him from unexpected quarters.

How the hell did he forget Edgardo, he wondered?

Edgardo, who was full of life and fun. Edgardo, who was always there. Edgardo, who would arrange yard sales of any old toys he could find and sell them to make a few Brazillian Real, and then share the takings with him. Or more audacious stunts like the time he pressed his naked butt - without his mom seeing - against the back window of their van on the highway, mooning at passing motorists. Or even, he suddenly recalled, the day Edgardo dropped his shorts and pants in his bedroom, claiming to know how babies happened!

‘Come off it, I don't believe you,’ Elliott had said at the time. ‘Since when did you know anything about stuff like that?’ Though he had to admit, his interest was peeked.

God, it all seemed like yesterday!

‘Rodrigo sneaked a magazine into school. It had pictures of people doing it!’ Edgardo had claimed.

‘Doing what?’

‘Making babies!’

‘I don't believe you!’

‘I'll show you then!’ Edgardo had pushed off his shorts to stand in his Ben 10 underpants. ‘Rodrigo said you had to make it hard.’

‘Make what hard,’ he had replied, unconvinced, sitting down on the bed, frowning.

‘Your willy of course. I tried it – it works! With that Edgardo pushed Ben 10 out of the way and began pulling his willy up and down furiously. “You rub it like this.‘ The technique wasn’t anything to write home about, and he’d stuck his tongue out in concentration, trying to recreate what he’d achieved earlier. It took a bit of time, but eventually that ‘little bit’ of him responded and he proudly displayed his small, yet now fully-erect, willy.

Elliott had been astounded. He’d never seen ANYTHING like that before.

‘Go on – you try it.’

‘What do you do?’ Elliott was intrigued and quickly pushed his own shorts and briefs out of the way.

‘Pull it and rub it and stuff. Here I’ll show you.’

Neither boy was at an age, where such an offer meant anything other than its face value. Elliott lay back to see if Edgardo could make it work on him too. It took a bit less time than it had with Edgardo, and soon he was sticking up too. His came with a slight outward bend that would become quite familiar later in life. He stared and pushed at it curiously. It felt strange.

‘And that’s it?’

‘I think so – Rodrigo said you stuck it in a girl and that’s how they make babies. I think you have to pee in them, or something.’

He’d grimaced, ‘Pee in a girl – that’s gross?’

Edgardo had shrugged, not knowing anything more and Elliott pulled up his white pants and cargo shorts, bored. ‘Come on let’s go out and play,’ What had transpired that day never really crossed his mind again.

Until now.

Now, more than five years later, images and feelings flashed rapidly through his reawakened memory. They were potent. Compelling. Electric and irresistible and, in his mind’s eye, he lay back down on the bed, where that familiar hand coaxed out what had been his very first erection.

Drawn deeply into an almost hypnotic seductive state, it was all he could do not to groan aloud. The powerful memories were like a stimulating drug, and there was nothing he could do to halt the sudden flushing of blood into his dick.

Edgardo!

Frozen in place, he was transported to another place, caught between the past and the present. He was already becoming quite aroused, before a voice nearby broke into his consciousness.

“Those are mine!” Miguel complained, taking the black speedos out of Elliott’s loose grip and stuffing the white ones there instead.

Coming back to where he was, Elliott studied the white speedos in his hand. From there, his gaze dropped down to the place where, in plain sight, he could see himself boning up. His hand shot down to cover the evidence, but there was nowhere to turn that didn't face SOMEBODY.

“Tuck it under,” the previous voice murmured quietly, again from nearby.

Whilst nobody else but Miguel seemed to have noticed his predicament, Elliott flushed red with embarrassment and confusion. Pulling on his speedos did nothing to halt the advance. The extent of his arousal was exacerbated by the viscose cotton, which clung like saran wrap. Quickly grabbing his towel, he held it in front of himself and hurried out alone.

Watching him go, Alejandro was astounded. What he’d just seen had left him breathless. He turned away to face the wall to hide the fact that he stiffening up too. Right in front of him, as he'd watched, Elliott Carter had had an erection. Something that, other than on himself and a couple of times with his brothers, he'd never seen much before!

They didn't own a computer and the ones at school had clever blocks on them. Whilst many other kids were viewing explicit porn of all varieties, he was actually pretty naïve. So, what he'd just witnessed, observing the appearence of another boy becoming visibly aroused, had been utterly, UTTERLY, INTENSE!

Was there any doubt about it now? From his experience in situations of being surrounded by naked guys, that kind of thing only happened for one reason that he could guess at…

Elliott Carter HAD to be gay!

* * *

Rushing out of the tent Elliott didn’t return to the patio or the ongoing noisy party. Instead, he slid away into the darkness to be alone, passing between the tents, unseen.

Running headlong into the dark, he passed through some trees, deep in the extensive garden, and hid behind one of them, to be alone with his feelings. Leaning heavily against the tree, he tried to control his breathing and the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. It wasn’t at all cold, but he was shaking; embarrassed by his very public display, but…it was more than that...

Any competent counselor would have quite easily figured out why he hadn’t remembered Edgardo up until that point. Why he’d, quite literally, blocked him out. partitioning away that part of his memories, to keep it from hurting. The same counselors would no doubt gently point out that this was likely to be the root of many of the friendship and socializing struggles that plagued him.

As a sensitive and impressionable youngster, after having bonded his life with Edgardo for over a year, the inevitable had happened. It had come time for the Carters to leave. They had moved many times before, but Elliott hadn’t realised how vulnerable this particular friendship was going to leave him. They told each other that they would write, and call all the time.

But neither of them did.

Maybe he could have – should have - done more, but he didn’t. All he could think about was why Edgardo wasn’t there anymore. For weeks, he would stand out on the pavement outside their new home, daydreaming that his friend would suddenly come running around the corner, grinning from ear to ear.

He didn't come.

He would never come.

Elliott didn’t even understand WHY he felt so bad, let alone get to mourn the loss. So he stopped standing out on the pavement, and shut it away.

He shut lots of things away.

Until now.

Until a simple phrase, from someone he hardly knew, had broken the locks on his memory, and it had all come flooding out.

Desperately, he tried to hold back an anguish that he’d never processed before, but it was impossible and, as the first crack of thunder broke, he shook and cried in a desperation of grief.

* * *

The storm had been brewing all evening and suddenly the clouds could stand it no more. Lightening split the heavens, and the previous rumbles of thunder burst out in a thundering crash, putting it overhead. With barking instructions from the watching adults, the pool was rapidly emptied of people, and the teens – many shouting with glee – piled inside the extensive gazebo, or under the covered verandah where food was still being served.

The sides around the gazebo went up speedily and, as the disco took on a new animalistic beat, it became hot and heavy inside. In the heaving mass of bodies, many covered by nothing more than inadequate swimwear, skin moved closer. Bodies pressed against each other and moved with sensual energy.

“Where’s Elliott?” pleaded Lydia, coming back to the table where Miguel - one of the few NOT on the dance floor - was brooding. Bright eyed and perspiring, she, on the other hand, was feeling alive, excited and very much wanting to share that excitement with the young man who REALLY interested her!

Where’s Elliott? As he had been for the last fifteen minutes, Miguel was wondering the same thing himself.

Elliot had run out of the changing tent. As soon as he had his own speedos in place, Miguel had tucked his towel under his arm and hurried out into the darkness after him, following to where he presumed he would be waiting - maybe a liitle sheepish after that last boner – at the pool. But he was neither there, nor anywhere on the patio area that he could see. He could have gone off anywhere and there was nothing more to do than wait – and think. There were so many things he wanted to know…such as just why had Elli been checking out another guy’s dick and, more importantly, why had THAT resulted in a boner?

Twenty minutes later he was still waiting. And was now getting quite worried. Where the hell had he gone? Was he all right?

Alejandro came hurrying over.

After having finished changing himself, Alejandro had messed around in the pool with the other guys whilst frequently looking around for the American, expecting to see his blond hair and sexy white speedos sliding through the water. He just wanted to talk to him. What he was going to say he didn’t yet know, though he knew what he WANTED to say.

Then, the storm had broken. He’d vacated the pool and joined the masses in the gazebo, moving to the pumping sounds – all the time watching out for Elliott. Seeing Lydia talking to Miguel, he’d gone there too.

“Where’s Elliott?” he demanded, coming in behind Lydia and joining them at the table. Wiping sweat off his face with his towel, he stared at Miguel suspiciously as if HE were somehow to blame for hiding him.

Miguel shrugged and glared, suspiciously. “Why do you want him?”

“You don’t know?” Alejandro muttered. “I’m going to look for him,” Throwing down his towel and ignoring Miguel's pout, he turned towards the exit, back out into the torrential rain, and hurried towards the changing tents.

Miguel lurched out of his chair and went after Alejandro. Half way across the grass he caught up and grabbed his arm. “Can’t you just leave him alone!” he shouted, competing with rain and thunder.

Alejandro finally cracked. “What the FUCK is wrong with you, Miguel? Get off me!” he shouted back, shaking of the hand that held him. Lightening cracked through the skies, dangerously close by, and both boys pushed inside the safety of the empty changing tent. He turned to glare angrily at Miguel in the gloom. “Why the hell are you being like this?”

“Being like what?” Miguel barked back defiantly.

“You know what I mean! Ever since Elliott’s been here you’ve been treating me like SHIT!”

“No I haven’t – you’re being ridiculous!” Miguel replied, a little less defiant. “I was only asking why you wanted to search for him. Just forget it!" He tried to push past him to get to the exit. But Alejandro wasn’t to be placated and pushed Miguel back.

“THE FUCK YOU HAVEN’T” Alejandro bellowed angrily. "Every time I try to talk to Elli, you get in the way and act like I'm a piece of SHIT! Just because I like guys!"

Miguel flinched. "Oh for God's sake, don't be stupid, you don’t know what you talking about!"

“Is that it then? Because I’m gay, I’m just dirt to someone like you?”

“No…I…”

“You think I chose this?” Alejandro demanded. “So people like me could be treated like crap by people like you, who think we're sick?? I like guys, okay – just get over it!”

“No – I don’t…” started Miguel, but stopped when, in surprise, he realised Alejandro was crying; water trickling down his face that was not from the rain. The realisation of the pain he'd caused, sat badly.

“I just wanted the chance to get to know Elli. Is that so wrong for someone like you to understand?”

Miguel froze, his face flushed.

“IS IT?” demanded Alejandro again – the fierce emotion bubbling up once more, tears streaming down his face now.

“No, it’s not that,” cried Miguel, in turmoil himself now. "It's not what you think...I wouldn't...It’s not like that…I...

"THEN WHAT IS IT LIKE, MIGUEL? FUCKING WELL TELL ME WHAT IT'S LIKE!" Alejandro bellowed.

I LIKE HIM, OKAY!” Miguel shouted back.“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, but I wanted...I…," he cried, and then broke off, looking horrified. Both boys were breathing heavily, glaring at each other in shock. "Shit..." Miguel muttered, trying to catch up to where his mouth had taken him.

Alejandro’s streaming eyes went wide. For long moments the two bore down on each other breathlessly and, in a blinding revelation in his head, it all came together.

The volume of his voice dropped suddenly. "You...?"

Miguel's face burned with some inner shame. "I'm not like you, Ale!" he cried, desperately.

"YES you are," he replied, angrily. It all made sense now. "You're gay!" All the tiny signs, that could never be strung together, coalesced. The multiple situations that, when viewed through different glasses, pointed to the same thing.

Hearing those words that stripped him bare, Miguel crumpled onto the floor in front of him, looking defeated and broken. "I mean I can't tell anyone like you can,” he cried, softly. “I just can't..."

"You stupid fucking...." Alejandro trailed off and shook his head before turning on his heels, marching out before his mouth could spurt any further fury. Twenty seconds later, he was back. His face and shoulders were dripping again with the heavy squalls.

"Is he gay? Is Elliott gay?" he demanded, ignoring Miguel's discomfort.

Miguel's face was hidden, buried in his arms and he just shrugged.

Still seething with anger, though for what now he wasn't sure, Alejandro stormed out and left Miguel alone. He got as far as the patio and the rain stopped, almost as quickly as it had begun - and with it, his anger. Inside the gazebo, music and atmosphere leaked forth, but he hesitated to go in. Turning, he retraced his steps, knowing he had to go back and face Miguel properly.

There was a lot they needed to talk about – HE needed to talk about.

By the time he returned, the tent was empty.

* * *

The wet rain lashing his skin woke Elliott and, from his curled foetal position, he sat up.

He'd cried and then sobbed until there was nothing left. Then, as if his body decided to pull the plug, it shut itself down. Closing in on himself, he’d sunk to the ground and fallen asleep on the grass.

Perhaps it was a reboot.

As the weather broke and the torrential rain forced its way through the branches of the tree under which he lay, he awoke, feeling raw and exhausted. Not knowing how long he'd slept, he sat up, wiped his sore eyes and huddled close to the tree for shelter. It was inadequate, and he soon gave up, and headed back through the rain towards the lights; a small lost figure in white swimwear, bent over in the rainstorm.

Stepping back onto the patio, he could hear the sounds of music and laughter from within the gazebo. Unknown to him, obscured by the downpour of rain and having returned from a slightly different direction to where Miguel and Alejandro were moving, he just missed them going out to search from him.

Looking for Miguel, he peered through the doorway of the gazebo and scanned the tables and dance floor. It was far too crowded and dim to see much, and there was no way he was going back in.

He just wanted to go home.

He spotted Lydia and waved to her, to get her to come over. As she approached, he could see her eyes drifting down his frame.

"Elliott! There you are - you're wet! Come on, your missing it all. Let's dance!"

"I'm looking for Miguel.” She grabbed his hand, but he resisted, shaking his head. “Where's Miguel?"

"You don't wanna dance?" she pouted.

He shook his head. "Not now. Another time, maybe. I just need to find Miguel right now." There wasn't anyone else he could talk to. Nobody else he trusted enough to give even a GLIMPSE of what was going on inside his head!

"Maybe he's in here?" She moved closer as the beat insisted she must. "Come inside ...or we could find somewhere else if you want?" she added. She looked coy.

"NO!" Elliott pulled away from her grip and hurried off, leaving her frowning.

He tried the house next, dripping onto the hallway floor, only to be glared at by one of the adult minders, guarding the stairs. Turnng to leave, he literally ran into Estela.

"Elliott! What's wrong? Lydia said you were upset..." She stopped and stared intently into his face and immediately saw the telltale red eyes. "Elli - what happened?" she demanded, taking hold of his arm. "Has Ale said something? Did he do any...."

"Alejandro? Why would Ale have done anything...I don't understand..."

"Oh - I just thought..." She berated herself for being too quick to pick up the wrong end of the stick. She was certain he'd been crying though. Something was up and she was going to get to the bottom of it! For now, there was a more urgent issue. "You're wet and you're dripping, for goodness sake! Where's your towel?"

"Sorry," Elliott muttered guiltily. The towel was probably still behind the tree.

"Come on - follow me, I'll get you one of mine."

She took him by the arm and swept towards the bottom of the stairs, not even glancing at the guard.

The man stared at them impassively. Even if she WAS taking a scantily dressed young man up to her room, there was no way he was going to mess with THAT particular young lady, and he let them pass.

Upstairs, Elliott followed her to her room and waited by the door. She passed through into a sumptuous en-suite and returned with a thick towel. Thankfully he rubbed his head dry and then wrapped himself in it. He wasn't cold, but the thick fibres were soft and comforting.

"There - that's better. Now, was it something Lydia said?" Estela ventured, trying a different tack to get to the truth. Both knew he'd been crying.

"Estela it's nothing like that. Nobody's said anything, honestly. I think I've just got a cold or something, that's all," He pulled the towel tight and turned back to the stairs. "We should probably go home soon. Thanks for the towel though."

As she followed him, Estela knew he was holding out on her, but there was nothing she could say or do if he wouldn't talk. Right at the top of the stairway he stopped and half turned. "Miguel..." he whispered.

Estela pounced.

"Miguel? Miguel did something to you? What did...." but she peetered out as he shook his head and she realised he wasn't speaking to HER at all. He was talking to a picture and she watched, bemused, as he reached out and stroked it.

Okay, that's a liitle strange.

"The painting," Elliott murmured.

She waited for a more that was not immediately forthcoming. "Yes, it's a painting." Was Elliott a little simple?

"Manny Ortiz." Elliott turned to her and the delighted smile that touched his lips transformed him, lighting up his face and returning the Elliott she knew. "The painting is one of Miguel's dad's!"

"Is it? How do you know?" Curious, she joined him in front of the painting and stared at it doubtfully. It was a striking picture and she'd always liked it, but had no idea who'd painted it.

"Here..." Elliott pointed to the signature. "Immanual Ortiz. And look...there." He pointed again and grinned. "He put Miguel in the painting!"

The huge canvas that adorned the wide wall at the very top of the grand staircase of the Fernandez home, was indeed created by Immanual Ortiz. Handcrafted to fit the space, it was made for them alone and captured a vista of their small town's outside market. A rich tapestry of colour and energy, it dominated the landing, drawing up those mounting the stairs, towards it.

So many different things were happening across the landscape, but it wasn't too busy and everything had its place, and fitted into the story in some way. Everything was slightly larger than life; the bright colours, the happy people and, unmistakably, there too was Miguel Ortiz! Taking a portion of the foreground, a small, local, mariachi band were pictured playing lively music. It was so vivid you could almost hear it. And there was Miguel, guitar slung across his shoulder, strumming and laughing.

"OH MY GOD! You're right!" squealed Estela in delight. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“This has been here for eighteen months and I never saw that. You only had walk by it once!”

“Twice actually,” sniggered Elliott. “I came by on the way too, remember.” Although he’d been staring at his feet miserably that time!

Estela clucked impatiently. “You know what I mean!”

Elliott turned back to the picture. He’d seen Miguel immediately. Maybe the guitar caught his eye? Maybe it was because, unknown to any that didn't see or understand the clever dynamics of the painting, Manny had set all the image and sight lines to subtly focus towards to that one place. A convergence of powerful energies that had drawn Elliott Carter to his son, Miguel Ortiz.

As he'd passed it, it was as if Miguel had called to him from out of the canvas. Now, those deep dark eyes, alive with warmth and vitality, watched him...waiting.

"He's incredible, you know," breathed Elliott, realising, as if it were for the very first time, something he already knew.

"Señor Ortiz? Yes I suppose so.” agreed Estela. “It's a nice painting,"

"No - Miguel...on the guitar. If you've never heard him play, he's really good. Amazing!"

Amazing.

He resisted reaching out to touch the picture again, but knew he could quite easily have done so. He pulled the thick towel tight around his shoulders and took a deep breath.

He knew. He'd always known but, like Edgardo, it had been a part of himself that he'd not been able to acknowledge; something shut away, perhaps to wait for when the time was right. It had been unlocked, not just by a long lost memory, but also by something - someone - much more recent.

"I was looking for Miguel," he said, absently rubbing himself down, one last time, with the towel. He was dry now and had no more use for it, but slung it over his shoulders anyway. Unexpectedly, he felt quite a bit better.

"Come on,” he sighed. “Let's go down."