The Game.

9:30 Pm.

It's a fantastic piece of time in my el salvador. The town retires. I come to life. Usually having been in my house for an hour or two, i open my front door to a sleepy town that i have to myself. It has become a routine. I open my front door and look at the world. Where the street is usually alive with passengers it rests; where the palm tree sways in the morning breeze it slouches; where i sometimes feel overwhelmed i now feel, mellow.
I'm not alone. Dogs, having been inside most of the day, are let outside to "protect" the different houses. This one fucking dog, the motherfucker hates it when i floss my teeth. To him, it's sacreligious or something. I open my door and lean against my house, like james dean might, and, until i floss my teeth, it's completely ok with this dog. At the the moment i begin scrubbing he goes apeshit. God knows why.
Anyway. I like to brush my teeth in front of an audience. Sometimes, there's Ricardo. He's a twenty something that "guards" the school at night (he keeps the school walls from being a sanctuary for teenagers out to get shitfaced). I like him. And he likes to talk. He must have to be at the school sometime near 10pm becuase we frequently see eachother. It's understood: he runs down his list of loves lost, games won- i nod my head and spit. And listen.
(Excuse me while i retrieve a cold beer. yes, another CRAZY night in el salvador).

And there's the game.
It has happened every night for the past two weeks or so.
There's this kid, Rapha. I met him early on. I like him. He smiles well. Really. This kid smiles and i believe it.
Two weeks ago, there's this banging on the door. I have a thick door. Someone bangs on it and it sounds like "HOLY SHIT LET ME THE FUCK IN," or "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST GET THE FUCK OUT HERE." So, when, two weeks ago, Rapha pounds on my door i hop up out of my chair thinking "this is fucking IT," only to answer the door to nobody. Just a palm tree and a stray dog. Who am i gonna blame? I get over it and go back to whatever nothing i am doing.
The next day, the same thing happens...one minute, im looking at midgets and fire trucks on the internet and the next BANG BANG BANG i think im on a fucking "cops" episode or something, but i open the door and no one is fucking THERE!
But i realize, there has to be someone, someTHING. So i look around. And i see him. Hiding behind a light poll, Rapha's skinny ass, and wonderful grin. How can i be upset? If i was a native of this town and some white-ass kid lived here, wouldn't i pound on his door? Yes, I would.
He looks me in the eyes and reports the score, 1-1. You see, last night i opened the door and did not see him, could not see him. Tonight, he was more careless, and myself more aware, and i noticed him and evened the score, 1-1.
Since then, i've made the record 10-3. About the same time every night, there comes this urgent banging on my door. Whatever i am doing- sleeping, pissing, whatever- i rush to the door, throw it open, and search for Rapha. He's a smart kid, but he's playing against the fact that he passes my house at about the same time every night, and i've come to expect, anticipate, even enjoy and hope for his arrival.
Last night i asked him, "hey, what are you coming from that you pass my house every night at about this time?" The first time that he answere this question, i had to contain my emotion. "I have to see about a girl." His words.

____

Tomorrow (an hour away) i will go to San Miguel. San Miguel is a city about an hour away from here. I will go and participate in the largest "carnival" outside of Brazil. I'll write about it when i get home.

be well.
Me.