Adonis Diaries

Chica Lupita: Introspection, Songs for women (Written in Dec. 2002)

Note: names of characters are fictitious, but the events are real to me.  These songs for women are fragments of my existence that I tried hard to gather in order to understand my individuality. 

Ariadna is from Atlixco in Mexico; her English is poor.

My Spanish is no better.

Our conversations were plagued with divergent misunderstandings.

One time, after we made love she asked me how serious is our relationship.

I told her that we barely can communicate

And that I can’t see much future with us together.

She jumped out of bed and cried sleeping on the floor.

A while later, seeing that I did not come down to console her,

She was back in bed.

We used to sleep on opposite side of the bed when not making love.

Chica or Lupita, as she liked me to call her,

Rubbed her right leg on my dick several times.

We made love again on the opposite side of bed this time.

Lupita had very white skin, a rather aquiline nose,

Liked dresses that show a major part of her bosom.

She was rather short and her reddish hair cropped short.

The tops of her feet were large and her heels very thin:

She walked on tip toe and her heels barely touched ground.

She never walked bare footed: the ground is the domain of the Devil.

Lupita held her head up, always looked straight ahead, back straight,

Confidently conscious of people sizing her up.

Chica was married to a young American.

Her man committed suicide two years after their wedding.

I met her at a full-service retirement community.

She worked as a cleaning lady.

I worked odd jobs there before I was later promoted as assistant to the manager.

She was jealous of her superior at the cleaning and washing department,

A lady from Guatemala who had an eye for me.

I asked Lupita out one day and we went walking Downtown.

During our bilingual and confusing conversation I said:

“The only real thing is the moment. Let us enjoy the moment.“

She retained that sentence and reminded me of it

During our many painful separations.

We went out again

And then we started meeting in my private room at 2pm.

I asked permission from the manager to rest for an hour around that time.

She used to join me surreptitiously for an hour before ending her daily work.

We used to undress completely and kiss and cuddle.

Two weeks later, she allowed me to investigate her rosy pussy.

I licked, kissed and rubbed her pussy so hard

That she said the next day at lunch: “Me duele. I am in pain.”

Chica pointed toward her vagina.

She would not let me lick her lower lips again.

A month later, she let me in her.

The moment I entered her she whispered: “You are for me.”

I told myself that I am in trouble and cut my activity short.

We used to go to a semi private beach,

At the foot of a villa perched on a high rock,

Belonging to a famous brain surgeon or a brain researcher,

That she used to clean the villa on weekends.

The small beach was hidden from the crowed by a large rock

And we were tender behind that rock.

She used to hold and rub my dick

And when I felt too excited she would laugh with pleasure.

We never had an apartment for ourselves.

She used to rent a room in apartments of some Latino families.

And our privacies were restricted to a room with no private bath.

 Once, we had a great time when the apartment happened to be vacant.

We took a long hot bath together and made love all morning.

I was introduced to her two brothers who were working and living in San Francisco.

At one stage of our relationship we stopped talking for two weeks.

When we made up, her brother Juan said during lunch:

“Finally, my sister is smiling, talking and happy.”

Lupita used to spend her summers in Mexico.

She used to have her physical check-ups and everything relating to her health.

She invited me several time, with insistence, to visit Mexico with her.

I was ready to spend all my savings to be with her in Mexico,

But I could not leave the USA because of problems with my stupid visa.

She brought me gifts on her returns.

One gift was a crucifix on a necklace that I still wear all the time.

Some people were amazed at my guts for wearing religious icons,

I could only reply: “This is a gift from a dear friend.”

On one of our walks in downtown San Francisco,

She liked a pullover and bought it for me.

I bought her a red skirt, I guess, and she was all love.

The night before leaving to Washington, D.C. for good,

I saw her crying for the first time.

She said: “You are going to leave me all alone?”

I never went back to San Francisco but she kept calling me and sending letters,

The first couple of sentences in a sort of English and the rest in plain Spanish.

Once, she asked me to write her a very intimate letter

Showing affections

To chase away a guy who was crazy of her, she said.

 I satisfied her with a letter filled with lies

Like that I enjoyed visiting her last week

And that I’ll be calling her every day and on and on …

Two weeks later, I received from her a letter in Spanish.

I could feel anger in the words

And something of an order to return all her photos.

I showed the letter to our secretary from Salvador.

After she read it she said: “She is very upset.”

She might have called one Saturday evening, the first week of my return to Lebanon.

My mother answered and hung up because she could not understand a word.