Normal Miguel

As the festival date approached, the school seemed one-dimensional—more and more time from class was dedicated to the event, as children rehearsed and painted and sewed and stitched and sang and danced, ever more focused on this culmination of effort and talent. The importance of class starting times and ending times diminished; break times and lunch times, even dinner, melded into this one great work.

Even Ruben began leaving a friend to tend the store to help out more at the school. He spent more and more time with this new pastime, and it became like an addiction, at first started for Miguel and then continued for the kids. He was another beacon amongst the black ocean as the children sought him for assistance and encouragement. Of course, he and Miguel also became closer, more accustomed to each other’s presence. It wasn’t something discussed explicitly. Rather, their connection began to grow quietly and deeply; they worked together as effortlessly as two birds tending a nest.

The students didn’t ask a lot of questions about Ruben’s presence. When Ruben came to class, the obvious reward was the caramels or chile-covered watermelon suckers. The hidden reward was the attention of another adult, for which the now forty-four young beings competed like trees competing for light beneath the canopy.

A Saturday afternoon horseback ride was a much needed break from the festival which was now just one week away. And then the two snuggled on the bed beneath Ruben’s only wool blanket in the cold night air of the last days of fall. Their first time happened as naturally to them as everything else had.

They were laughing as they undressed, eager to find warmth under the covers. Then they hugged and rubbed each other for body heat. The laughter changed to smiles. The smiles turned to quiet stares into open eyes. Then the kiss, with eyes still open, a union of intentions, trust, and the rich flavor of one another. It was a stopping of time, a light speed ride to a distant planet, a bending of gravity. There were only two people in the world at that moment, though they had a mutual feeling of oneness. One was in the other, who was himself possessed, not invaded or penetrated but shared in common desire. There was no necessary climax, but a satisfaction somehow more primal and complete. Then finally sleepiness overcame them and they passed from this dream-like state to truly dreaming, never letting go their embrace until orange morning light hit the white walls and the new day was a new song.