Ruben Miranda

Mi Viejo

Benjamin took his father Jadiel seriously whenever he talked about dying. 

“Soy viejo moribundo,” he said.

“Me too,” Benjamin said. 

“I really think I’d be happier if I wasn’t here,” Jadiel said, taking out his rolled-up clothes out from his suitcase. His father’s shirt was sweaty from the five minutes they’d spent outside the airport in San Juan waiting for an Uber. 

“But you wouldn’t be able to think, so you wouldn’t know happiness.”

“Hmm, I’m content with what I’ve done is all.” 

Jadiel’s face was round with a wide nose and easily recognizable by his bushy eyebrows. He sported a mustache he trimmed weekly. His hair, which was combed back with no product, was once dark, thick, and curly, but now through age was gray all over. He dressed like Jerry Seinfeld with a modest budget. He liked to wear polo shirts or button ups with sneakers. Sometimes he’d wear shoes a size too big or small if he really liked them. But lately he realized a stench surrounded his father, the faint smell of rot. He wondered if anyone else noticed.

Benjamin inherited his father eyebrows, and a small mole on his left cheek from his mother. He sported a goatee that made him look angry, no one talked to him because of disposition. He got haircuts every two weeks and was secretly terrified of having to get a haircut on the island, not because he thought they’d mess him up, but because he’d have to speak Spanish. Benjamin kept his hair short for so long no one in his family knew the texture of his hair. He loved to wearing Nike Dunks with shorts of various colors and patterns with obscure vintage t-shirts. He only brought one pair of pants in case he wanted a cleaner look. His style was not far from his fathers. He stole a lot his father’s old shirts and sweaters. The two men were oblivious to how similar they were and of how all their actions held only a degree of difference. 

 Benjamin and Jadiel unpacked their bags at the apartment they rented which had white walls and a small futon on in the living room. There were Ikea tables on each side. That detail made Benjamin google “Ikeas in Puerto Rico” and there was one, in Bayamón. Benjamin chuckled at his ignorance. One of the beds had a white metal frame with pink bed sheets, pillows, and light white comforter on top. The other bed had simple bedframe with grey and black sheets. Beside the bed were circular black metal tables with an old digital clock. Benjamin thought about the fact they were “back home”. He didn’t know if either of them knew what that meant anymore. 

“You, okay?” Jadiel asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Benjamin said. 

“I want this room,” Jadiel said, pointing at the grey and black room, “the other one is gay.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Benjamin said. 

Benjamin hoped his father wouldn’t say things like this outside or embarrass him to the point Benjamin would have to fight someone. Benjamin hated fighting. All he wanted was to spend time with his father and to get to know him before it was too late.

*

At the apartment, Benjamin heard his dad shower humming, “Pronto llegara, el dia de mi suerte”.  The air conditioner blasted cold air to stave off the humidity. They agreed to go grocery shopping in the morning, so they didn’t have to eat out as much. The two of them also decided to hang out in Santurce for a week before heading to Juncos where their family lived. Outside, the buildings were a mixture of towering buildings adorned with balconies and windows reflecting images of the water and the setting sun. Benjamin could see people rewatching World Cup highlights, he could make out Mbappé sliding across the corner the pitch with his hands under his arm pits. Other buildings held themselves in the form of pastel buildings contrasted by darker cooler colors around the façade of the building. Benjamin was on the balcony of the apartment staring at a bright pink building beside parking lot when his father walked out lighting a cigarette. 

“I love these types of buildings,” Benjamin said pointing. 

“Art Deco?” Jadiel asked, handing him one. 

“Yeah, I like the colors a lot and the smooth lines.”

“Eh, they’re okay.” 

Benjamin hoped to live in a building like that and be blessed enough to have a balcony to overlook the neighborhood with a lit cigarette in his hand as he counted palm trees and located tamarind trees. There were similar buildings around them, and some were in decay. He wondered if it was Hurricane Isabela or Maria that tore away at the once beautiful buildings or if it was time.

*

Benjamin searched for a restaurant nearby while his father watched TV and found one eight minutes away. He ordered them a car. When they got to Bebo’s they were met with a mixture of locals and tourists. The lighting was warm and the music that played came out the kitchen. The wait staff wore black shirts with black pants. Benjamin and Jadiel ate silently and only spoke to order their food and beer. Jadiel ordered the red snapper. Benjamin ordered a chicken stew with mamposteado. He wanted to try a Puerto Rican dish he never had before which was a dish that consisted of day left over white rice and red beans. They could smell garlic, onions, ham, and sofrito everywhere. Jadiel ordered them two Medallas. 

One of the employees came out with an enormous tray full of food. He muscled it over his head and twirled it onto the table not spilling a thing. This was followed by a waitress carrying a small chocolate cake with strawberries on top of it.  More waitresses followed behind her singing happy birthday to young boy in white tank top, navy blue shorts, and Lightening McQueen crocs. Slowly, everyone, employees, patrons, and even tourists from outside came in joined them in singing. Another group of waitresses brought out another cake, for a separate table, there were two birthdays. The singing got louder. The two of them looked at each other, Benjamin shrugged his shoulders. He began to sing too, so did Jadiel. There were cheers, applause, and a few whistles. The little boy’s feet swung as he ate his cake. His father, stout and hairy looking man, grabbed a napkin and wiped his sons face.

Once the singing stopped Benjamin and Jadiel played a game with each other: guess whether the server was Puerto Rican or Dominican. 

“Hmm, that guy is definitely Dominican,” Benjamin said, pointing at one of the waiters.

“Mhmm. I think she’s Dominican,” Jadiel said pointing at one of the women taking orders.

“Na, that forehead looks mad Puerto Rican,” he’d say, not really sure if he was right or not. 

“Those damn Dominicans are ruining everything here.”

 The game ended very quickly. He always ruined the fun with his comments. Benjmain wondered how long it’d been since his father came here with a sense of comfort, even curiosity. He wondered if his father had always been this hateful.The last time Benjamin had been on the island was in 2006 and he went to the funeral at the end of it, a second cousin died on their way to pick them up to go the beach. He wondered what his father felt after all these years knowing that many of the people, they loved were dead. Wela and Welo died in 2007, which Benjamin never forgot because their neighbor died in January of the same month. After that, his aunt died in Puerto Rico, and her husband died around 2010 when Benjamin graduated high school. Nothing was the same, after Hurricane Maria, that’s what his cousin said. Benjamin wanted to know the island as it was now. He’d only come as a child, never as an adult. There were pictures back home of him in the arms of his aunts and uncles wearing a red and black rugby shirt and shorts, his fit in a pair of Jordan Raptors. It was one of his favorite photos.

“Pops, imma go to the club tonight,” he said, changing the subject in between bites of his stew.

“How far is it?”

“It’s a five-minute walk from the apartment,” Benjamin said, looking at his phone and taking a big sip of his beer. 

“On a Monday?”

“That’s how they do it I guess.”

“You’re crazy.”

“It doesn’t open until 10. So, I’m gonna chill with you after this and then see what’s up.”

“By yourself?” Jadiel asked. 

“Unless you wanna go?” Benjamin said, raising his eyebrows.

“No, I’m too old for that shit.”

“That’s in your head, Dad.” 

Benjamin watched as the boy ate his cake, paused to tug at his father’s shirt. The boy’s father turned to him. His face was red from the heat, or the drinking and the light reflected off his forehead. Benjamin watched as the father turned toward the little boy, who waved his father down to his level. The father looked at the boy, asking, “what?” The boy motioned for the father to turn his cheek. The father obliged and the little boy takes his small cake-stained lips and planted a kiss on his father’s cheek. Benjamin stared at his own father, whose grey hair seemed to grow grayer each year, a man who made aviator seeing glasses cool. His face worn from Chicago winters and time. They smile at each other and raised their Medallas. 

*

By eleven, Jadiel, unable to sleep, and headed out to a pharmacy up the road. He wanted another Medalla. His mouth salivated at the thought of it. The coquis sang harder the longer the night when on. His body perspired from the heat. He hoped his son was safe. He checked his phone to see if it had enough battery and headed out into the night.

*

Benjamin heard cars racing down the streets from inside the club. He was the only person there. He drank a rum and coke. The bartender stared at him from behind the bar. Benjamin thought she was beautiful as she put her long curly hair in a high ponytail. She had a unibrow, but it suited her, she’d glide around the u-shaped bar and danced in between tasks. People slowly trickled in and while he waited. Benjamin checked his phone compulsively. After a while, he picked his head up and talked to a woman and her friends. The woman in front of him, had long braids and wore a white tank top with light washed jeans and white sneakers. She was from Delaware. He had never met anyone from Delaware. Her smile was beautiful. 

“It’s a $20 minimum friend,” the bartender said. Benjamin turned to the woman he’d been speaking to.

“Ya’ll want drinks?” he asked. The friends looked at each other and nodded their heads yes.

“Sure,” the woman said. 

He ordered their drinks and asked to close out. A different bartender took his order this time, he wore a maroon shirt and his hair back to cover his balding head. When he brought the drinks, Benjamin asked him to close out again. He nodded. Benjamin passed the drinks to the woman and her friends. He felt the urge to stay but he smelled the rot again and begun to feel self-conscious. Had the smell followed him? Could others smell him? The women thanked him almost out of pity it seemed. The bartender pretended to look for a card before turning around and acknowledged Benjamin with a head nod. 

“Close out,” he said for the third time.

“Sounds good, my friend,” the bartender said. 

It’d only been an hour. Something felt off to him. He pulled at his collar to smell of him. There was no stench. He thought of his father spending his first night alone in the apartment and left.

*

As Jadiel walked to the pharmacy, he observed the colors on the streets. Bright buildings surrounded him, some of which were dilapidated and abandoned. He wondered how his son could like buildings like these. When the hurricanes hit the island, Jadiel felt an immense sadness and frustration that he wasn’t there to support and care for his sisters. It was his son that was more proactive. He raised some money at the office he worked at and sent packages for flashlights and portable generators. Jadiel didn’t know how much it cost, and Benjamin didn’t mention it. 

Jadiel thought about jumping in front of moving trucks or off a bridge he walked past. But that’s all they were: thoughts. He noticed a ditch filled with water as he walked. There were graffiti tags denouncing the LUMA electric company on the walls across from him. He saw men working on their cars on the streets. At midnight? He kept going. He walked past fitness gyms, art stores, coffee shops but no pharmacy. 

Jadiel could feel himself get disoriented. The buildings muddled in his mind, and he didn’t know if he’d walked through this or that neighborhood. He tried to look at what cross street he was on, but they were mostly unmarked. On the buildings, he could make out the shape of what used to be a street sign. His chest got heavy. Breathing became laborious. He felt like he was sucking air through a straw. The limbs on his body felt foreign to him, and he had a hard time lifting his arm to check the time. His pants were sticking to his legs. There were no encouraging landmarks. He was lost. 

*

Benjamin got lost leaving the club. His phone had a little battery left but he thought he had enough to activate the scooter on the street. As he pulled out his phone to take a picture of the QR code, it died. At first, he got mad. A rage seeped through his skin and mingled with the sweat on his skin from dancing in the club. He turned to see where he was and gather his bearings, but things began to spin. He could see people getting into cars. He thought about asking them for help, but he knew that they’d have very little direction to give him. 

Benjamin hadn’t memorized enough of his surroundings to get home. He began walking what felt like uphill. His steps were labored. He saw a bunch of dilapidated buildings like the ones he had admired on the way to their apartment, he wondered what lives the buildings and their residents lived. He wondered what joy and pain they held. As he walked, he saw a bunch of kids riding their bicycles in tank tops and flips flops. One of the kids had a short fade with a heart etched on the top right side of his head. He wore an old Loony Tunes t-shirt and black basketball shorts.

“Wassup gringo?” he said. 

Gringo? Benjamin said to himself. 

“Gringo, gringo, gringo,” the rest of the boys joined in.

Benjamin gave them all a head nod. And kept walking. He could hear the squeaking of the bikes as the distance grew. They knew he wasn’t from here and he didn’t even have to say a word.

Benjamin walked until he got to Cayey and Avenida de la Constitución, none of which looked familiar. He was still tipsy. There were abandoned bikes on what seemed like each street. None of them worked, their tired popped or the chains broken. Still, he thought about stealing one or hot wiring a car, which he didn’t know how to, so he nixed the idea.

“I’m fucking dumb, bro,” he said to himself.

“Yeah, you are, but it’s going to be okay. You’ll find your way back,” he replied into the night air.

“Call it an adventure and you can’t be mad.”

“Damn, I must be fucked up if I’m talking to myself.”

It’d be another ten minutes until Benjamin stumbled into a gas station where a dude that he knew was Dominican would give him directions to the apartment, which turned out to be only a few blocks away. He wondered what his dad would think about him getting lost on the first night. The walk was unforgiving. His mouth was dry, and his ankles hurt, but to him this feeling beat working back home at the bar or staring at a wall with a list of goals he never accomplished.

*

Jadiel asked someone walking in the opposite direction where he was. He only caught the part where they said Constitución and la gasolinera. So, he headed in the direction they suggested. He thought to call Nereida. Jadiel stared at his phone a bit more. No understanding of this place came to him. How could be lost in the place he called home? Footsteps approached him. He hoped they’d ignore him and avoid trying to help him. The person passed him up. He called Nereida. 

“Dad?” she said.

“Nere? I’m lost.”

“What? You’ve been there less than five hours,” she said. 

“Yeah, I tried going to the pharmacy, but I think I went the wrong way.”

“Let me call Benny, I mean---ah fuck, whatever he goes by. I’ll call him.” She hung up.

He waited there, not knowing if he should walk somewhere where he would be easy to find or not. There was a main street up ahead of him. He could vaguely make out the gas station the stranger mentioned to him. His legs were tired, and he sweat through his clothes. His daughter called him again.

“His phone is dead. That idiot,” Nereida said.

“It’s okay. I think I can figure it out. Ben sent the bar he is at. Maybe I can get on the maps and walk there.”

He looked up the bar. There was a gas station near it. He wondered if they passed by it on the way to the apartment. As he walked, Jadiel wondered if Benjamin’s plan was now that he was home. He never told him what brought him back, and probably wouldn’t tell him. They hardly talked unless it was to tell him to lower the music. 

Jadiel stared at his phone to make sure he headed in the right direction. The art deco buildings made him gag; he liked more concrete boxier structures. Every time he took several steps the phone indicated he was facing in the wrong direction. At this point, he wanted nothing more than to be back in the apartment and in bed. The older he got the more complicated technology felt. He stopped his walk. Pointing his phone in the direction the map indicated. Jadiel thought about how he’d grown up knowing about el carro publico. They had guaguas that people catch rides to different parts of the island. He remembered the time when he and Benjamin had to walk near the old baseball fields to find one. His son complained the whole way there because of the hills he had to go up and the heat which drenched his favorite shirt, a white and red polo assist shirt with a broken zipper on the collar. Now there were no carro publicos and earlier that day he took his first Uber, and he didn’t tell his son about it because it didn’t feel monumental. He missed meeting people on those carros: doctors, lawyers, construction workers, and bakers. He wished he could hop on one and go back to apartment and lull himself to sleep to the sound of the air conditioner. He wondered if his son was safe, and if he encountered any trouble. He knew people would know he wasn’t from here, he had a Mexican accent like his mother, and people would want to take advantage of that. Jadiel heard footsteps approaching. Again, he hoped they wouldn’t notice his confusion. 

“Dad?” Benjamin, his son broke him out of his spell. 

“I---I got lost,” he said nervously.

“Shit! Me too. But we aren’t too far from the room.”

“I wanted to grab some cigars and beers,” Jadiel said. 

“Don’t worry. There are still a few bars open. Do you want to check them out?”

“That sounds good. It would calm me down. I was scared…” Jadiel said, a truth he’d typically keep to himself.

“That’s fine. I was too,” Benjamin said wiping sweat from his eyes.

“You were?” he asked.

“Hell yeah, this part of the city is like a maze,” he said rubbing Jadiel’s shoulder. 

“That’s funny,” he said, relieved. 

“Like father, I guess.”

“What’s your plan?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re home again.”

“That can wait till we are back home, dad,” Benjamin said trying not to think of the body. 

“Okay,” Jadiel said.

“I want to have fun with you and see things together.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Jadiel said.

Benjamin pointed in the direction they’d be going. He told him that Calle Loíza would take them to the apartment if he ever got lost again, and that the Constitución and Loíza ran parallel. 

“Guess it’s good we got lost then,” Jadiel said.

“Why you say that?” Benjamin asked.

“That way we can’t make the same mistake a third and fourth time,” Jadiel said with a chuckle. 

“We know it better now, and now we both know we suck at directions,” Benjamin said. 

“We do,” he said, and they walked. Together. 

*

They went to a bar and had several drinks. Jadiel tried daiquiris, margaritas, and anything suggested to him by the bartender. After, they went to a tiki bar down the block and had piña coladas. The bar had a bright neon sign with a lemur sipping a drink on it. The drinks were a bit too sweet for Jadiel, and Benjamin worried about how it’d affect his diabetes. Benjamin ordered him a Medalla instead. They stayed there long after the bar had closed. 

The bartender wore a Hawaiian shirt and baseball hat to match. He wore it open with a black t-shirt underneath. He seemed kind, he’d talk to everyone who walked in as if he knew them. When they walked in, he shook both of their hands, and said his name was Robby. 

“You know, my dad and I look alike,” Robby said as he served them their drinks, “But you two are almost twins.”

“What?”

“There’s no denying you’re related,” he said with a smile. 

Benjamin and Jadiel looked at each other and shrugged. Neither one of them had heard that before, and they both wondered if it were that obvious. Benjamin wondered if there was anything else he had inherited. Jadiel thought about whether his son liked knowing they looked so similar.

“It’s cool, man,” Robby said, “Protect that. My dad’s dead.”

After that interaction, the Robby bought them a last round of drinks. Benjamin bought him one in return. On the way out, Benjamin tried paying for the tab, but the Robby wouldn’t let him. Benjamin nodded towards the door. Jadiel nodded back. In a final act, Benjamin slapped a couple hundred bucks on the counter and ran out with his dad. After they stopped running and caught their breaths, they talked about how bad Benjamin’s Spanish was and about how good the drinks were. They talked about the weather, and the nearest beaches around Santurce. They talked about the possibility of going to El Yunque. At one point, Jadiel tried convincing his son to move to the island. Benjamin let the possibility flip itself around in his head. The night was warm and full of laughter. The alcohol let the two of them dream together. Jadiel stopped walking at the doorway on the way out. 

“Hey,” Jadiel said.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Jadiel said. 

“Rory?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, pops,” Benjamin waved him over to keep walking. 

They left the bar at three in the morning, and as they marched Benjamin noticed his father grimaced. He wondered if it was the shoes or the alcohol making him uncomfortable. They had drunk far too much but luckily the apartment wasn’t far from where they were.  

They kept on. No music, no loud cars racing, the coquis lulled everyone to sleep. The streets were lit awkwardly, every second or third streetlight was out and made the dilapidated buildings look haunted. Everything seemed ominous as they saw no one for several blocks. The two of them walked slowly. Benjamin could see Jadiel sweating. 

“I hate getting old,” Jadiel said.

“I know, dad. I know,” Benjamin said.

“I gotta shit,” Jadiel said.

“Hold it. We are almost there,” Benjamin said.

“Okay,” Jadiel said, gripping the back of his pants. It took a minute for Benjamin to realize what was happening. 

A smell encircled them. It was rancid and sweet. At first, Benjamin thought it was the trash left on the street. There were some overfilled trashcans and an overflow of bags all over. They were almost there, and Jadiel had gotten silent. His head was low, and Benjamin could no longer see his expressions. It was then that Benjamin realized how old his father had gotten. His face was puffy, and his skin red from all the alcohol. His stomach protruded; it looked like he’d tucked a medicine ball under his shirt. His hands withered from his time in the factory. He watched as those hands stroked his chin where the skin of his neck hung. This wasn’t the same man who’d taken him to the island as a child, no. This was man so close to death the stench clung to him, a permanent perfume. The thought made Benjamin shudder. Again he smelled himself and nothing. 

It wasn’t the trash outside, or the contents left in food boxes. It was his father. The inside of the apartment smelled like shit. The stench got stronger. Benjamin pretended not to notice. He wondered if his father noticed.Though he’d come to terms with his father’s mortality, he couldn’t bear this new perception of weakness. His father didn’t move. 

“You okay, dad?” Benjamin asked.

“I hate getting old.”

“I know, I know.”

“No, you don’t, and I don’t want to live like this,” Jadiel said, crying.

Benjamin said nothing.

“I shit myself and I’m embarrassed. I don’t want to be here. I want to kill myself,” Jadiel said.

Benjamin looked at his father. They were both drunk and he could feel his body swaying. His father could barely hold eye contact. He sniffled repeatedly. The low hum of the air conditioner was the only sound between them. Jadiel sobbed. Benjamin had never seen him this way, almost childlike. He wanted to hold him.

“Dad, are you okay? How long have you felt this way?” Benjamin asked.

“Since always. I’d rather be dead then get old,” Jadiel said. 

“I understand, dad.” 

“I think of your sisters and my grandchildren, and I can’t,” Jadiel said while sobbing.”

“It’s okay.” 

“I don’t wanna be here,” Jadiel said over and over.

Benjamin hugged his father. The two of them cried. Benjamin stroked his father’s hair and wondered if his hair would take the same path once he grew older. He wondered where age would set in first. Would it be his belly from all the drinking? Or would it be his neck? His mother chastised him for missing his neck when he applied lotion. Benjamin never saw his father cry. There were only a few occasions where he would yell at his mother, or sisters. Most of the time, he ignored what happened around him. He’d go to work, come home, turn on the TV and watch silently. For a while he didn’t drink or smoke, but the older he got, the more he did, as though the closer he came to death, the more eager he was to die.

“I could just…not go home with you,” Jadiel said at last.

“You mean like live at grandmas?” Benjamin asked.

“I can—I can just finally do it here.” 

“Na, pops. You’re not going to ruin this place for me. You can’t. You can’t do that to me.” Benjamin hugged him again. He motioned for him to take his pants off.

“Don’t tell anyone, please,” Jadiel said, his words still muffled by sobs, “I’m embarrassed.”

“I know, dad. I know,” Benjamin said.

His father moved slowly. The alcohol had taken most of his balance, and he began mouthing words to himself. Benjamin couldn’t hear or see what he was saying. His father’s body disgusted him with its pale, sagging features. He could see a streak of shit running down his legs. Jadiel dragged his feet as he walked. Benjamin grabbed a bag and stuffed the clothes in it. He waited to hear his father start the water before going out into the hallway and throwing it in the trash. 

When he came back into the room, he could hear him sobbing. He left the door of bathroom open to hear for any signs of falling. Benjamin set out some clothes for his father. The water stopped. There was a pause in the bathroom. He waited for his father to get dressed and helped him get into bed. He’d never imagined seeing his father so broken. It terrified him to think of what else he’d learn about his father, who seemed so much like a stranger to him. Eventually, Benjamin pulled the blankets over his father and waited for him to fall asleep. Jadiel’s face was flushed as he laid on his back. Benjamin moved him so he’d be on his side. He didn’t want him throwing up and then choking on his vomit. 

Outside, the coquis still sung.  He thought about Rory cold and alone. Benjamin sat beside his father and made grocery list. It’d be easier for them to act like nothing had happened. His father would prefer that. Then they’d go to the beach, and after the beach have a nice lunch at another place and try dishes they’d never had. Then they’d go to museums and shop at stores together. They’d get souvenirs for the family. He knew that as they walked, people would recognize they were father and son, they’d appreciate their unmistakable likeness. At least, that’s what Benjamin hoped for as his father snored silently in their hotel room, so close and so far from home.