Lizbeth

“Lizbeth”
part III

I hated it when Javier or someone had Friday night off because that meant Katrina had to work and I’d end up having to stay all night watching tv with a bunch of drunk Mexican men.  It might be amusing sometimes, but usually I just ended up getting aggravated and going to my own house to watch tv by myself.  At least when Katrina was around we could *do* something and I could get myself out of the house.  But this particular Friday, I wasn’t able to do anything.. because Papa was off in the daytime and Javier was off at night.  So I spent all day at home and it was driving me crazy!

When I heard Katrina pull up to bring Papa home, I nearly died running down the steps.  “Katrina! Katrina!  Pleaseeee take me somewhere!” I begged.

Papa looked at me in utter confusion, then at Kat, then back at me and muttered, “what did you say?”

I told him that I’d asked if she could take me out and it was followed by a bunch of English curses and finally a, “No, Lizbeth.  You need to stay home tonight and it’s too late to be going out anyway.”

“But Papa!” I whined, but he ignored me and just walked off.

I considered greatly just going with Kat anyway, but I didn’t want to get her in trouble again.

“What’s up, kiddo?” she said, ruffling my hair.  “Haven’t seen ya all day!  I’ve missed ya!”

I grinned slightly.  “Nothing, bored shitless.”

“Heyyy, watch your mouth!” she teased.  “Why so bored?  Javier and the guys didn’t have anything exciting planned for you today?”

I shook my head.  “The only plans they had consisted of getting drunk... and that didn’t include me.”

“That’s probably a good thing, though... I don’t think your dad would’ve been too please had he come home to find you drunk.”

“It’s okay, beer is gross anyway.”

She giggled.  “I’d love to stay around for a while, but it’s getting late and I’m exhausted.  Pinche people..” 

I loved it when she cursed in Spanish.

“Anyway, go on to sleep... I’ll be over early in the morning and we’ll do something fun.  Make some spiffy plans, okies?”

I nodded.  “See ya, Kat.”

She sped off and I slowly ambled back up the stairs, opening the door to my own apartment, praying that Papa would take me *somewhere*.  But he was dead asleep, and I knew that Kat was right about the mucho pinche people.

“Hey, Papa,” I whispered, shaking him slightly.

He groaned.

“I’m going to go next door to watch tv, okay?”

He nodded and told me not to be back too late.  I promised him that I wouldn’t and tried to easy my thumping heart.  I’d never been good at sneaking out or lying... even back in Mexico with my Mama.  I tried to sneak out of the house once and made it clear across the yard before I heard her screaming my name and chasing after me with a wooden spoon.  But now wasn’t the good time to be thinking about that experience... because if it were Papa who caught me sneaking out, he’d be chasing me around with a leather belt, and that seemed much scarier than that wooden spoon..

So I decided I’d actually go over to Javier’s place for a few minutes, just so if Papa asked about me being there, they could honestly say that I’d come over.  He wouldn’t take into consideration that they were drunk and probably wouldn’t remember me being there anyway.

But of course, they were watching a soccer game and shouting profanities at the other team.  It was actually quite amusing... tons of drunk Mexican men cursing at the tv.  At least I thought it was funny.  I don’t even think they noticed I was there until I muttered, “Yeah, I think I’m going to go now...”

Then they all turned to me and Freddy started giggling.  “Where you goin’, chica?” he asked, in English.

“Home,” I lied, turning my eyes away because I could never look someone straight in the eyes when lying to them.

“Ohhhh, I see,” he chuckled.  “Goin’ home.”

He knew I was lying.

“Well, be careful at home,” he muttered softly, still speaking in English so no one else would hear.  “There’s a lot of crazy people out there.”

I bit my lower lip.  “The only crazy people I see are you guys in here,” I said in Spanish, winking at Freddy, this time looking him straight in the eyes because *that* wasn’t a lie.

Everyone laughed and I waved goodbye to them, saying goodnight.

My stomach turned inside of me.  Freddy knew what was up... and that scared the hell out of me.  Oh, so yeah, Freddy’s a guy who moved in with Javier a few weeks after I’d moved in.  Just so you know.  He’s awesome as hell... listens to heavy metal and has devil horns and a goatee, also speaks English (as you might have noticed).  Drinks too much and smokes weed.  Kat and Freddy get a long great.  Probably because he and I are the only ones who she can actually talk to, but still.  Freddy’s a cool guy.  And I didn’t know if I could trust him not to tell Papa anything or not.

So I decided when going down the stairs, I’d duck a little to make sure that no one saw me escape.  I don’t think anyone did because as I passed the window they were still shouting profanities at the tv, probably already having forgotten that I had been there.  As I hopped off the last step, I wiped my brow of the sweat and headed away from my house.  I knew my destination...  His name was Carlos and he was a fourteen-year old half-Mexican, half-American kid.  He lived about two blocks from Papa’s house and he was really nice and really cute.  He spoke more English than Spanish and had met Kat enough times to pick up on her slang words and music, so he listened to different kinds of music and wore baggy jeans.  How cool was it that I was hanging out with a fourteen year old?

I skipped down the road humming the fight song of one of the teams that had been on tv.  I hated that damn fight song.  Surprisingly, I wasn’t scared... I mean, I feared Papa’s wrath if he found what I was doing, but I wasn’t scared that some weirdo drug dealer would take me and try to rape me.  Besides, I’d learned on a movie that Kat and I watched together if you let the rapist know that you’re HIV positive, they won’t try to rape you.  I wanted ask Kat what exactly HIV was, but I didn’t want to seem as ignorant as I felt.  But I figured if it worked in the movie, it’d work in real life.  (The movie was Anarchist Cookbook or something and it was GOOD!)  So I just ambled down the streets mumbling stuff about having HIV probably in too happy of a tone.

I finally made it to Carlos’s house.  He wasn’t really expecting me, and I guess I should have called before I came barging in, and then I realized that his father was friends with mine, and that it’d be better if I kind of... you know... snuck in rather than knocking on the front door.  I took a deep breath and paced myself, then walked over to the side of his house and peeped through the window.  There he sat on his bed, watching the soccer game.  Surprise.  I tapped softly on the window and stood on my tiptoes so he could see more than just my eyes.  I giggled when he jumped, then he realized it was just me and held his hand over his heart.

He came over to the window and opened it.  “Chinga tu madre!  You scared me shitless!”  Now you see where I got that phrase from.

“Tsk tsk, dirty mouth, Carlos.  Can I come in?  I’m bored out of my mind and need to hang out for a little while.”

He looked behind him then back at me.  “Sure, but Pop’s mad at me, so if we hear him coming in, you have to hide and quick!  I’m half-grounded because I was messing around at the grocery store today with some potheads from down the street... and he swears he’s told me before not to hang out with them... I just think he’s losing his mind..”

I giggled.  “Probably so.”

The next problem was how I was going to actually get inside.  See, the window was a little too high for me to just climb in, and I didn’t have much upper body strength...

“What’s been up, babe?” he asked, reaching a hand out to help me inside.  He was sooo strong!  And sexy, might I add.

“Nothing,” I whispered, trying to climb up the wall and holding onto his hand and the window until I fell back down.  He laughed at me then reached down and hauled me up from my armpits and threw me onto his bed. 

I giggled a little, but he put his finger over his lips and said “shhhh” so I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing.  He was sitting there in only blue-jean shorts and I thought that made him even sexier.  I won’t go into description on his muscles and such... you probably don’t care to hear that.

“Watching the game?” I asked stupidly, hearing that damn fight song again.

“Hell yeah!  This is a big game!” he nearly yelled, but put his hand over his mouth and started laughing again. 

We lay there for a while watching the game, making fun of the people, and hearing his father shout profanities at the other team.  And I guess it all started during a commercial when I poked him in the stomach and he squirmed and I thought it was so cute I had to do it again.  And again I did it, and again, and again, until he got sick of it and started tickling me.  I giggled as softly as I could, begging him to stop the tickling until he just.. kissed me.  Right on the lips. 

I kind of blinked after that, but I liked it.  I’d never exactly kissed a guy before... you know... like that.

We just stared at each other for a moment, and then he brought his head back down and kissed me again, this time slipping his tongue through my lips and doing all this amazing stuff and my heart began pounding wildly... He stopped again to make sure I was okay, and this time I was the one to lean in and kiss him, attempting to slip my tongue through his lips... but we were interrupted..

Okay, I didn’t even *hear* his father open the door.  I was too busy concentrating on the kiss...  What I heard was his father clearing his throat... and that’s when I realized that we were being watched.  Holyshit... you can’t even imagine how far apart we jumped from each other, Carlos and I.  You’d have thought the bed caught on fire.

“We were just... I...” he stammered.

“I was just leaving..” I muttered, wanting to make a quick leap out of the window but was stopped.

“Does your father know where you are, Young Lady?” he asked.

At this point I didn’t know if it would be better to lie or not, so I stayed silent, thus implying that Papa had NO idea where I was. 

“You stay in here, Carlos,” he yelled, then turned to me.  “You, come with  me,” he ordered. 

I wasted no time in getting towards him and following him out of the room.  He slammed the door shut and lead me to his own bedroom, where there were curtains on the windows and everything was a little girly and the bed was tall and big. 

I guess he thought it better to yell at me in Spanish so no one could understand what he was saying. 

“Just what exactly do you think you’re doing?” he said.

“Uhm.. I was just... hanging out?”

“You call *that* hanging out?”

I nodded.

“No, Young Lady... hanging out is when you come over, knock on the door, I let you inside, and you and my son sit on the couch watching tv.  It isn’t sneaking in through the window at odd hours of the night and making out with him on his bed.”

“I-..”

“I don’t want to hear it Lizbeth.  You’re old enough to know better than to do what you did.  I won’t tolerate this in my house.”  With that he sat on the bed and then I remembered a silent agreement that Papa and all of his friends had with one another -- if one’s child misbehaves in your house, it’s okay to spank them.  Shit... why hadn’t I thought of that before?  “Over my lap, Lizbeth,” he commanded.  “This is going to be nothing compared to what Carlos gets, just to let you know..”  I quivered as I dropped myself over his lap, feeling smaller than ever.  Papa was nothing in size compared to this guy... Meaning, Carlos’s pop was a pretty big guy, not fat, but tall and very muscular... the thought of how my backside would feel was one thing I *didn’t* want to think about. 

He circled my waist with his arm to keep me steady across his lap.  I clenched my fists and closed my eyes, only imagining how painful this would feel, even if it was over my thin pants.

And oh geeze... you’d think those pants would help it not seem as hard...  Yeah right!  He whacked my bottom for the first time and I thought I was going to die before he got finished with me.  I yelped as loud as I could and kicked my legs, but it didn’t phase him in the bit.  He just landed one sharp smack after another, lecturing me that I was not to sneak into his house at night, much less make out with his son.  I just apologized through my tears, assuring him that I wouldn’t do any of it again, begging him to stop, both in English and Spanish because I didn’t know if he could understand one from all the crying I was doing. 

“And I’m sure your father will be glad to know what you’ve been up to tonight, huh, Lizbeth?  Since clearly he has no idea you’re not at home right now..”

“Nooooo, pleaseeee don’t tell him!!”

He ended with a solid smack in the middle of my bottom and lifted me.  “Get home, Lizbeth.  And don’t worry, your father will know about this..”

I sniffled and wiped the tears from my eyes, then rubbed my bottom a little and scurried out of the house, running all the way home so maybe he’d think I was at Javier’s the whole time...

click here for part 4!