Fever

As a quick recap, my Senior year started off on a bad foot with the move to the ramshackle house north of downtown.

That contributed to a growing resentment of my classmates.  I was bitter because they had their college futures assured while I had no idea how I could ever afford to go.  Now my regret over skipping the recent basketball season left me deeply disappointed. 

That brings us up to February 1968.  As miserable as I was up to this point, my life was about to accelerate with a series of rollercoaster events that would leave me reeling.  At the end, I would be teetering on the edge of a breakdown.

I had now entered the second half of my Senior year.  This was the home stretch. Soon the Jones Scholarship award would be announced and the college acceptance notices would be coming in the mail.  Very soon I would know my fate.  Due to all the uncertainty I had about paying for college, my anxiety level was on high. 

However, for an intense 10 day period in February, I almost completely forgot about college.  I suddenly had a new problem on my plate, one that in retrospect was darkly funny, yet also unimaginably bizarre.

Ramon was Mom's new live-in boyfriend.  My mother had met him back in October.  When my father stopped paying child support in November, Mom was suddenly in a huge financial crunch.  So she invited him to move in with us.  He had a steady job and could help her pay the house note.

My mother had been dating different Mexican men now for the past six years.  Ramon was the best guy to come along since Manuel back when I was in the Seventh grade.  Ramon was also the first man to live with us since Neal, the taxi cab driver, at the end of the Eighth grade.  Ramon had some natural warmth about him.  In fact, I kind of liked the guy. He was a genial man who clearly made Mom happy.  That was all I needed to know.

Furthermore, I accepted my mother's statement that with me leaving soon, it was time to look to her future.  Fine, Mom, do what you want. 

Deep down I had an affection for my mother.  I felt very protective of her.  However at the same time I knew full well that my mother was a black hole of misery that would suck the light out of my life if I didn't shield myself.  I felt I had no choice but to create a barrier between us while I coped with trying to survive high school.  So it was a great relief to me to see her turn her attention to this new man. 

My new problem started when Janie and Juanita, Ramon's younger sisters, drifted in from Mexico in early February.  Yes, they had crossed the border illegally.  So did a lot of Mexicans back in those days.  I should know.  My mother dated half of them.

Now it was my turn to go gaga.  I nearly fell over when I saw these girls.  Although both girls were short and a little on the plump side, they were definitely pretty.  Plus they were very close to my age. 

Juanita was four years older than me. My first impression was that Juanita had taken a few courses in the school of hard knocks back in Mexico.  Juanita wore highly revealing clothes and used heavy makeup to disguise her perpetual frown.  There was a hardness about her that suggested Juanita had been a 'professional' back in Mexico.  I had a hunch someone had not treated her very well recently.  In fact, that might explain the unexpected arrival of the two girls. However, this was all conjecture.  My mother didn't tell and I didn't ask.

I was awkward around Juanita. I wasn't sure whether to treat her as a girl or a woman.  Despite the age gap, Juanita didn't act older. In fact, she seemed imminently available. However, I shied away from her.  Juanita was far too intimidating for an inexperienced boy like me.

Janie on the other hand was only a year older than I was.  Not only was she less guarded than her sister, due to the proximity in our ages, there seemed to be an instant connection between us.

I quickly discovered neither of these two girls were even remotely modest.  It was bad enough having two attractive girls walking around in shorts and revealing tops, but I was in for a real surprise.  The second night after her arrival, Janie greeted me wearing nothing but a towel as she came out of the upstairs bathroom.  As she headed to her bedroom, the towel barely contained her generous bosom.  I was instantly turned on.  I felt a fever surge through my body.  My teenage hormones instantly began to fly wildly out of control.  Consumed by heat and unable to walk properly due to the sudden stirring in my loins, I literally staggered to my bedroom.  Down, boy, down.

Unfortunately neither girl spoke a lick of English. Never in my life was I more upset with my decision to take German instead of Spanish.  However these girls still knew how to communicate.  They spoke a language all of their own.  Nothing in my life had prepared me for the onslaught of non-verbal flirting that hit me like a ton of bricks.

When the girls walked, their hips moved in ways that I found highly disconcerting.  Do women's hips really move that way?  Or were they putting on a show for my benefit?  Both girls definitely knew how to smile when I was around.  Janie in particular had a bad habit of giggling and whispering to her sister when I was near by. I had the distinct feeling I was the subject of their conversation, but I couldn't be sure.  This teasing and the not-knowing was driving me up a wall.

Due to the language barrier, I had a lot of questions about these two girls that I was never able to answer.  I didn't know if they were actually interested in me or whether their culture taught them to simply turn on the charm whenever an available man was in the room.  Let's just say I was riveted to their every move.  

Thanks to the curse of my acne, I had no experience with girls.  None.  I didn't have the slightest clue how to approach any girl, much less two girls who spoke no English.

I have written that my Senior year was a time when I desperate to have a girlfriend.  Besides the foregone conclusion that I was virgin, I had no idea how to act around girls my age.  I appreciated the pretty girls at my school, but the Rich Man Poor Man gulf was so vast that the thought of dating any girl at my school was out of the question.  I wouldn't even know where to begin.  I had no idea how to tease a girl or flirt with her in the ways the other boys at my school seemed to have down pat. 

In fact, the girls at St. John's were so totally off limits, I didn't even have a secret crush on one of them.  I had long since moved every girl at my school into a mental compartment labeled "Sister".  Look, but don't touch.

That didn't mean I wasn't interested.  Like any other 18 year old boy, I thought about sex all the time.  However my instincts told me I had far too many problems and far too fragile a psyche to take any chances.  As tense as I was with worry about college and life in general, the last thing I needed was girl problems. 

For the past three years, I had solved the problem by ignoring the girls at school as best I could.  For their part, the girls at my school made my decision an easy one.  I don't recall one girl at my school who offered the slightest hint of encouragement.

Sometimes at work I tried to joke with the girls my age, but it was a half-hearted effort at best.  I was still far too tense and serious for them to find me interesting.   There was always enough distance between me and any girl my age to keep my sex drive at bay. 

At some point, I knew I would need to acquire the skills necessary to bridge the gap, but I assumed I could postpone this project until college.  Now to my shock, my timetable had just been moved up considerably.  There were two highly desirable and seemingly available girls who had just appeared before my eyes.

Unfortunately, I was totally unprepared.  When Janie and Juanita came on the scene, I was about as defenseless and inexperienced as any boy my age could possibly be.  But these girls had no way of knowing that.  Since they didn't understand a word I said, my lack of personality around women was no longer a handicap.  All they knew was that I was a tall, athletic-looking boy about their age who was clearly infatuated with both of them. 

Furthermore the acne scars didn't seem to bother them a bit...  I can't begin to explain what a relief that was!  I suppose it didn't hurt that I was the only boy they knew.  All that mattered was they were definitely willing to turn on the charm for me.  They may not have spoken English, but they spoke body language fluently.

Considering how provocatively these girls dressed and the way they moved their bodies, I had a strong hunch these two girls were no strangers to the company of men, especially Juanita.  Both girls had grown up in a sexually-charged Hispanic culture that put a lot of emphasis on a woman's attractiveness.  I don't know how to put this delicately, but both girls spared no effort to present themselves as sex objects.  Trust me, they were good at it. 

I had never been this close to girls my age in my life.  As a result, I had no experience at knowing how to deal with the intense sexual desire that consumed me.  I was practically defenseless for the attack on my virtue that these two girls presented.  During the first few days the girls were at our house, I was instantly transformed into a sex-crazed dog in heat any time they were near me. 

I simply had no shields. One Sunday I was reading the morning paper in the living room.  Janie came and sat down next to me.  I was instantly turned on.  It took every ounce of my self-control not to reach out and touch her in some way.  It was all I could do to keep my hand from grabbing her bare leg like I wanted to. I had to literally clench my hands together for fear I would lose control.  Inside I began to tremble with desire.  Embarrassed and uncomfortable, I had to leave the room lest she realize how flustered I was. 

These two girls would have been a test for any man, much less a lonely, sex-starved boy like me.  Nor were they the typical nice girls that I was used to at school.  I told myself that Janie and Juanita were pure trouble, but my body wasn't listening.  The temptation to make some sort of move was overwhelming.  My desire to do something grew stronger with every passing day. 

Every night I was confronted by their underwear hanging in the bathroom upstairs.  Nor did it help that they walked around the house in various states of undress as if perhaps I were their brother and it was no big deal. 

But I wasn't their brother, now was I?  I was obsessed with thoughts about sex.

Shortly after the girls moved in, one weeknight I came home late from work.  It was about 9 pm. Juanita was lying on the couch in the living room watching TV.  As I entered, I froze in disbelief.  Juanita was wearing a loose fitting bathrobe that suggested there was nothing else under it.  Upon seeing me, Juanita smiled warmly.  I noticed she didn't bother to cover up.  Instead she just pulled her legs back as if to make room for me next to her.  It definitely seemed like an invitation.  Seeing her disrobed like that, I was instantly on fire. We were the only two people in the house.  All I had to do was go sit on the couch with her and see what happened next.  Instead I fled up the staircase.  As I sat there on the side of my bed quivering with desire, I was determined to go back down there.  However I had to think one last time if this was the worst mistake I would ever make.  Unfortunately my sex drive was far too inflamed to think straight.  I had just begun to descend back down the staircase when I heard the downstairs door open.  Mom was home.  I didn't know whether to scream for joy or cry in anguish.  I was a total wreck at the lost opportunity.  I felt like a damn fool.

That encounter with Juanita was the last straw. I couldn't take this any more.  The temptation was killing me!  I was in heat all the time.  This was sheer torture.  I decided the only way to solve this problem was to get it over with and have sex with one of the girls.  Otherwise death by unsatisfied lust was fast becoming a real possibility.

Ironically, I had finally found a way to put my worries about college out of my mind.  Instead I thought about these vixens night and day.  I set my mind to discovering the best approach.  Mom and Ramon slept downstairs while each girl had a bedroom of her own on either side of my room.  All night long, I lay tossing in bed unable to sleep. I could not get the images of those two girls sleeping alone in the next room out of my mind.  The temptation combined with the opportunity presented an overwhelming assault on my will power to resist them.  Juanita was the one who had signaled availability a few nights ago.  All I had to do was wait until the middle of the night and tiptoe eight feet across the hall, then softly knock on Juanita's door.  If she opened the door and smiled, well... However, Juanita was not my first choice.  Instead I had set my sights on Janie, the younger and prettier one.  Janie clearly didn't have as much experience as her older sister.  This endeared me to her.  There was also a softness about Janie that was missing in her sister.  I very much wanted to kiss Janie.  Even though we were from two vastly different worlds, I liked Janie.  Wouldn't it be nice to have at least a touch of romance?  I caught Janie watching me on several occasions.  I was certain she was interested in me.  We had adjoining rooms and a shared door. I knew the door wasn't locked because I tested it all the time. In other words, in the middle of the night, I could just walk in. It was that easy. But did I have the guts to try?

I debated the odds of being rejected.  Smiles and giggles and walking around half-naked in a bath towel was one thing.  That didn't mean I could assume I would automatically be invited into Janie's bed in the middle of the night.  On the other hand, I didn't think I would be rejected either. 

Recently Janie had begun touching me when she laughed.  I didn't need to speak Spanish to understand this signal. I came to the conclusion that door remained unlocked for a reason.

The only thing stopping me was me. 

There were several things stopping me.  One problem was a dream I had.  I had always hoped my first sexual encounter would be with someone I cared about.  I asked myself if it was possible to date Janie first.  That didn't seem very realistic.  How do you date someone you can't even talk to?  It upset me that all I had to offer was a roll in the hay. 

It was my understanding that Mexican men didn't treat their women very well.  So why on earth was I wrestling so hard with my conscience?  Any Mexican boy my age would have been in and out by now.  Still I hesitated.

Was I willing to compromise my values?  Trust me, my resistance on these grounds was eroding rapidly.  I was quickly learning the hard way that lofty morals turn to mush when a sexually available girl leaves her door unlocked at night. 

The thought of having my mother find out proved to be a serious deterrent.  I certainly wondered what my mother would think of her randy son merrily bed-hopping with one of the nymphets upstairs.  And I was positive she would find out. 

My mother was no saint.  Hardly.  My mother had spent the past nine years picking up Greek sailors at the Athens Bar and Grill and Mexican construction workers at the Last Concert.  I can't begin to count the number of times I had to endure awkward introductions to her one-night stands the following morning. 

My mother's promiscuity had an odd effect on me.  If anything, it made me more reluctant to behave the same way.  The last thing I wanted was to have her grin at me knowing I had begun to walk the same path as her. 

To be honest, in the rare moments when my mind wasn't clouded with sexual frenzy, the one thing that cooled my ardor the most was my fear of hurting the girl.  Yes, I had a streak of decency in me.  I anticipated the odds that a casual sexual affair had about a zero percent chance of ending gracefully.  At the very least, someone was bound to get their feelings hurt.  It wasn't like I could just stop seeing her.  What good is that strategy when the girl I was ready to exploit lived in the room next to me?

The only scenario that let me off the hook would be if one the girls took the initiative and crawled into my bed at night.  I prayed that would happen, but my prayers were never answered. 

It was obvious I would have to make the first move. 

The indecision was eating me alive.  I was burning with desire!  I tossed and turned all night long trying to think of a positive way to solve my dilemma.  After all those years of monk-like abstinence, this was the perfect chance to break past the curse of my acne and start to enjoy myself.  Considering how sexy Janie was, I was more than game to try.  Damn it, she is right next door to me!  I was so turned on I couldn't settle down.  My own body was driving me crazy, pleading with me to take action.

But how to make the approach?  The thought of unexpectedly crawling into bed in the middle of the night without a clear-cut invitation was taking a pretty big chance.  Furthermore my conscience reminded me that a touch of finesse would be appreciated.  So how do I approach Janie the right way?  Was there a right way?  I went nuts with confusion on how to proceed. 

In the end, the problem was solved before I could conquer my inhibitions.  To my eternal exasperation, 10 days after the girls showed up, Janie and Juanita got jobs as waitresses at a nearby Mexican cantina on North Main. 

Thanks to my total inexperience, it had never occurred to me I might have a deadline to make my move.  Now it was too late.  My heart plunged at the loss of my big chance.  He who hesitates is a damn fool!

Things changed overnight.  Not only did the girls begin to stay out till 3 or 4 am, to my dismay, their non-verbal flirting disappeared. I soon discovered why they had lost interest.  Looking like they did, almost immediately they both acquired boyfriends. 

I was fit to be tied at my lost opportunity.  However, I guess I should also admit I was secretly relieved.  There was a part of me that now whispered I had narrowly avoided one of the most dangerous traps I would ever face.   I think if this farce had been allowed to continue one more week, either Janie or Juanita would have made a move or my out of control hormones would have finally overcome whatever judgment I had left.  The trap was set.  All it needed was one more spark to light the fire.  This had been a very close call.

I might as well be honest.  I never made a move because I could not bear to exploit one of those girls.  I had spent most of my childhood watching my mother suffer at the hands of men.  I just didn't have the heart to follow in their footsteps with these girls.  I wrestled with my conscience night and day, but I could not find a way to give myself permission to act. 

Interestingly, it would be four more years till I finally crossed that certain barrier.  But that's another story. 

The point here is that I believed I had done the right thing.  I ended up feeling proud of myself.  I may have been a major jerk at times, but underneath I was basically a pretty good kid.  During this deeply troubled time in my life, it was nice to be reminded that my puppy dog side was still down there somewhere.

However, my good deed at home didn't solve my problems at school.  I was a cheater, a thief, ridiculously self-absorbed, rebellious and very confused.  I was overwhelmed with my growing anger towards my classmates who didn't know I existed and towards the basketball coach who had snubbed me. 

My bitterness was causing me to do some really stupid things at school.  Obviously I was "acting out" in ways that were very self-destructive. 

People were watching me.  I had been given warnings to straighten up.  The next mistake might be my last one.  I was very close to blowing the bright future I had worked so hard to obtain.

It was a race.  Could I find a way past all my bitterness before I made another crippling mistake?

 

I was in great pain for a different reason as well.  During the ten day period of my sexual ordeal, I had felt attractive to women for the first time in my entire life.  It didn't matter one bit that these two girls couldn't speak a lick of English.  They were pretty!  That's all that mattered.  Two pretty girls had definitely shown interest in me.  Maybe there was hope for me after all!  I needed that boost to my self-esteem in the worst way. 

However, to see how quickly the girls disengaged from me caused me immeasurable pain.  Gone was that thrill of feeling desirable.  Now all those dark thoughts of feeling ugly and repulsive came flooding back in. I was forlorn with doubts that any woman could ever find me attractive.  One night I broke down and cried myself silly.  As always, my dog Terry came to my side to reassure me.  Seeing him and knowing that I would have to leave him soon for college made the pain even worse.  That dog had wrapped his whole world around me and I would be forced to abandon him.  That was it.  The dam broke.  I absolutely cried my guts out.  I was frightened by the endless waves of pain and despair that washed over me.  This was a complete breakdown. 

I wasn't sure if this crying jag would ever end, but I finally regained control.  A sense of determination took the place of my tears.  Enough is enough.  I decided this ridiculous situation had to end.  I was going to put my foot down.   

The next day was Saturday.  I went to my mother in protest.  Imagine my shock when I realized Mom had not only given these girls permission to bring their boyfriends to the house, she could have cared less about my discomfort.  Mom made it clear she was going to let those men continue to come into my home whether I liked it or not.  Deal with it.

I was aghast.  Did my mother have the slightest idea what she was putting me through?  I was furious at her indifference.

I blew up at her.  We had a very ugly confrontation.  I could not believe how hot my temper was.  My mother lost her temper too.  In fact, this was the angriest I had ever seen her.  My mother was normally a very gentle person, but now she began to scream at me for my constant selfishness and surly attitude.  She accused me of not caring about her one bit, so why should she care about me? 

My mother said this was her house and she could do what she wanted.  I was going to be leaving soon, so maybe it was time to quit thinking about my own problems and think about her for a change.  Mom said she could not wait for me to leave.  She was counting the days. 

This was about the time Mom issued her semi-comic ultimatum that I could begin washing my disgusting gym clothes.  I remember exactly what she said.  "And while you're at it, wash your own goddamn smelly clothes!!"

I stomped out of the house in a fury. 

After the way this argument came down, I wasn't about to give Mom the satisfaction of seeing me wash my own clothes.  This declaration became the reason I turned to borrowing gym clothes at school.  Of course we know how that decision turned out... I was so determined to snub my mother that I nearly got myself thrown out of school.  I wasn't thinking very clearly, was I?

After that, Mom and I stopped talking to each other.  Completely.  It was Cold War.  Or maybe you could say we had a Mexican standoff.

From that point on, every day brought new humiliations at Little Mexico.  In March, the two boyfriends moved in for good.  Now there were seven of us in the house.  Just when I could not imagine things getting any worse, Juanita's boyfriend brought his two year old baby into the house.  Now there were eight of us, including a screaming baby.

In April, a ninth was on the way - Janie had become pregnant almost instantly.  Listening to her sob one night over her fate was darkly enlightening to me.  Maybe I had done the right thing after all.  Thanks to my complete ignorance about the use of condoms, that could just as easily have been my child.  If that had happened, who knows what would have happened to my college dream?

Meanwhile I could barely comprehend the magnitude of the changes in my home life.  Everything was happening so fast.  This was the strangest situation I had ever been in.  I was freaking out.  Almost overnight, I had inadvertently become a stranger in my own home.  It blew my mind that all these newcomers had more status than I did.  My mother was definitely making her point... I didn't belong here any more. I got that message loud and clear.

On the other hand, Mom loved her new Mexican Brady Bunch.  Long ago my mother had learned to speak fluent Spanish... easier to pick up Mexican guys that way.  As a way of explanation, Mom wanted men she could dominate.  Dating lower class Mexicans was her odd way of maintaining the upper hand in her relationships.  Now that Mom wasn't lonely any more, she was having a great time with her instant family.  Not only was she enjoying her new-found importance as Madre of La Familia, they were helping her pay the bills.  

Compared to the lives of my privileged classmates, it is obvious my childhood was far from sheltered.  True as that may be, this was way over my head.  Inheriting this family of seven foreigners was too big a stretch for me to handle.  Every night I came home I was greeted to the sounds of Mexican ranchero music or mariachi music on the radio.  Every night I was forced to listen to Mexican laborers having sex with the two women I wanted but could not touch.  Every night the language barrier got under my skin.  The constant sounds of spoken Spanish irritated me no end.  Since my mother and I weren't speaking, there was no English whatsoever.  When I shared a meal with La Familia, I had no idea what these people were talking about in my own home.  Or was it my home?  Not any more.

It infuriated me that I was helpless to control my own environment.  Due to the speed with which it took place, the culture shock was incomprehensible. I am not a racist or a bigot.  It had nothing to do with these people being Mexican.  I understood clearly that these people were not the enemy.  They were simply pursuing a better life here in America as best they could. 

My problem was that I was an only child and not used to having any people around, much less a circus.  As tense and rigid as I was, I was not handling these challenges well at all.  It was impossible for me to adjust to this giant family, much less one transplanted from another country.

I couldn't keep all this inside anymore.  I had to talk to someone, so I told Mr. Curran, my English teacher at school, what was going on.  He shook his head in disbelief.  Unfortunately he didn't have a solution.  His only suggestion was to hang in there and wait for college.  Oh, one more thing - turn the radio on.  I smiled at him ruefully and told him I had already thought of that.

Indeed, the only way I could cope was to hide in my room at all times and turn the radio on.  Yes, out of sheer necessary, I had finally learned to use the radio.  Listening to rock 'n roll in my room was the only way I could deal with all the rock and roll taking place in the other room.  One night I forgot to turn on the radio.   I was awakened at 4 am to the frenzied sounds of love making.  Apparently Janie and Reymundo had just come home from the bar.  As I listened to the moaning and the bed-squeaking next door, I could not help but remember how much the noise from the Pentecostal church had bothered me last fall.  It was still there, but I never noticed it anymore.

The problem with the organ music was nothing compared to this turn of events!  Be careful what you ask for; you might just get something worse.  I shook my head and actually laughed.  Now I understood why the Greeks loved irony so much.  I had found a way to see some humor in this crazy situation.  Maybe Gwen, the checker at work, was right.  Maybe I was finally developing a sense of humor. 

It was either that or go nuts.

It was one thing to have trouble studying due to the organ music across the street, but no matter how hard I tried, this was the final straw.  I could no longer study at home.  I would be sitting there and thoughts of Janie having sex in the other room would enter my mind.  I would be too disturbed to study again.  So I time-shifted my life.  I did as much homework I could in study hall and began making frequent early morning trips to the Chemistry building faculty restroom. 

Not surprisingly, the ongoing bitterness and resentment I felt towards my school and my privileged classmates continued to climb higher and higher. 

It was not fair.  That was the phrase that played in my head like a broken record.  It was not fair for my classmates to have their wonderful homes.  It was not fair for them to have parents who were going to pay their way to college.  It was not fair for them to have two eyes instead of one.  It was not fair for them to have clear complexions.  It was not fair for them to date when I couldn't.  It was not fair for them to play basketball while I had to work after school. It just wasn't fair. 

On my worst days, I began to detest everything there was about my life. 

It was this resentment that led to my dubious decisions to cheat on tests at school and steal gym clothes.  It was my immature way of striking back.  I had no idea how else to get rid of all this anger in me. 

My only saving grace was college.  I knew that if I could just hold on for a few more months, this misery would all be over. 

Then I could make a fresh start of everything.  That dream was the only thing that kept me going.