Sine Equals Cosine
				

	I did not want to be there, especially with the guitar weighing me
down. The crowd made me uncomfortable as soon as I opened the door. I had
made a decision though; my discomfort meant nothing. I looked around the
off-campus hangout. It was surprisingly large for a non-franchise coffee
house. Every seat was full, so people lined the walls or sat on the floor
between tables. The faces were mostly Latin since the Images House
sponsored the monthly get-together. They called it a talent show for young
Latin artists that attended the university. There were stands with
paintings and sculptures on them to the left of the front door. On stage,
a particularly bad political poet was lost in the general apathy brought
on by college socializing.

	I spotted Dacia in the front row. The table was reserved for her,
or at least no one dared sit there before she arrived; Dacia could be
vocal in her displeasure, almost as loud as with her pleasure. A couple of
guys sat with her trying to grasp and keep her fleeting attention. I
sighed; even if Dacia made me feel, I had to wonder if this was worth it.

	I walked to the stage making sure not to bump the guitar case
against anything. The case cradled my father's guitar, the last thing he
gave me. I took the steps onto the stage slowly. A girl spoke into the
microphone announcing dates for other Latin events in the area. She grew
quiet when she felt my approach. Her head turned so she could stare at me.
It had to have been in my eyes because she backed away slowly. I grabbed
the stool the poet had pushed aside and placed it in front of the mike. I
drew my father's guitar and sat down. The microphone was too high; I
looked around the room as I adjusted it. The conversations stopped as
people turned to watch. They could sense the approach of ghosts three
years dead and it chilled them.

	I touched the guitar strings looking at Dacia.

	"Only this time," I said. "For you, Dacia."

	It was not a long search to find the songs that said what I wanted
to. She would never know the real reasons for my selections; those were
for my heart, soul and voice.

	"Dejaria Todo (I'd leave everything)," I whispered.

	I don't know how other singers do it: there are songs that I sing
and songs that I live.
		
			-----

	'Lo dejaria todo porque te quedaras' (I'd leave everything for you
to stay.)

	I met Dacia at my job in the computer labs during the summer after
my freshman year. I was an emergency hire when they could not fill shifts.
One of the female supervisors adopted me as her little brother so I got
hours during the summer session. Dacia was a junior that I noticed around
the lab but never worked with. She got summer hours too and because the
lab was only open a few hours a day we worked together a lot.
		
	Dacia had dark-honey hair and mischievous brown eyes. Her curves
were a danger to moving traffic. She always wore dresses and confessed
they made her feel sexier. I think she teased me as a way to relieve the
boredom of our shifts. I made a good target with my inexperience.
	
	To be honest, she seduced herself.

	Dacia enjoyed her provocateur games and flirtations with me. I
took her up on an invitation to meet for lunch before our shift one day,
which became having lunch together every day. After a while, we ate dinner
together after our shifts too. I was still surprised when she invited me
to her house. The girls she shared it with made eyes at Dacia when they
caught sight of me.

	"Robbing the cradle, dear," the bravest teased.

	They laughed when I blushed. Dacia took my hand and guided me to
her room.
	
	"Don't mind them," she told me closing the door solidly. "They're
jealous. None of them have ever seen a cuter boy."

	Cute was not what I was hoping for, but wisely kept my mouth shut.
I did that a lot around Dacia.

	'Mi credo, mi pasado, mi religion' (My creed, my past, my
religion).

	She was wearing a light summer dress that drifted freely around
her legs when she moved. It clung to the curve of her bosom and hips
almost as tightly as I wanted to. Dacia walked to the radio and popped in
a CD while giving me a wicked smile. I knew the worst of teasing tortures
was coming but Dacia was an anathema to male resistance.
	
	Music was a part of Dacia's soul. She played it constantly in the
lab and walked around with an iPod permanently attached to her ears.
Sadly, she had neither the voice nor the instrumental talent to be a
musician. Dacia could dance though. She danced for me and I felt no pain.
Her hips swayed gently with the first notes of the guitar. She forgot my
presence as the music lifted her body from the ground.

	Dacia danced herself into my arms.

	She toppled on top of me after the third song. Her breathing was
deep and a light layer of sweat covered her skin. I wanted to know if she
tasted salty or sweet. Our faces were inches apart. I watched a bead of
sweat crawl onto her upper lip. She moved her hips on me tracing the
outline of a painfully hard dick.

	I licked the drop of salt from her lip.

	Her eyes widened in surprise. She grabbed both sides of my face
and kissed me hard. My lungs burned with the desire to forget about
breathing while we kissed. Dacia moved on top of me as the kiss deepened.
I pushed my groin against her stomach; she danced on it as if I was
already inside her.

	I put my hands on her ass. The desperation to have her grew too
fast for me to control. I grabbed fistfuls of the dress and pulled it up.
I almost came feeling nothing between her skin and my hands. I moved my
hand between her ass cheeks to check for a thong but only a gasp of
pleasure met my touch.

	She grabbed the dress and ripped it over her head. My heart hurt
as it drummed an impossibly fast beat. Dacia was naked underneath the
dress. I worked an entire shift with a thin layer of cotton between her
skin and my fingers!

	I wanted days to worship Dacia's body but my dick was on the brink
of a massive explosion. Dacia smiled as she undid my jeans; she knew she
was the focus of my existence. She got off the bed to pull my pants and
underwear off. My dick strained to touch her, to drown in her waters. She
took my dick in her hand and spread the pre-cum on the head with her
thumb. Trying to hold on, I closed my eyes. I wanted to cum but it had to
be inside her. I opened my eyes when her grip shifted.

	Dacia was on top of me. I felt the touch of her pussy. I gritted
my teeth fighting away the pleasure as she impaled her body on mine. She
settled me inside her with a sigh. Her hips rotated to find the perfect
fit between us. Her body moved up my dick and slammed down. I groaned
pushing away the desire for release.

	"It's okay, baby," Dacia whispered leaning down so her lips almost
touched my ear. "Let it go inside me."

	'Mi nombre, mi fuerza, hasta mi propia vida' (My name, my
strength, even my very life.)

	I grabbed her ass and guided her almost off my dick. I let her go
and she dropped suddenly. I wanted to last long enough for her to peak
with me, but could not hold on to forever. My fingers dug into her ass
cheeks and I lifted her up again. She gasped as I retook her body with a
thickened dick. Both of us were amazed that the feel of my cum jetting
into her set Dacia off.

	She collapsed with her forehead on top of mine. I flipped us over,
pulled my hips back and thrust into her. Dacia grabbed my sides in
surprise. My dick had not softened; it felt like it never would as I
thrust into her again.

	'Y que mas da perder, si te llevas del todo mi fe' (What else is
there to lose, if you took my faith in everything.)

			-----

	I stared at Dacia as I sang. I let her see in my eyes what I
should have said every night we were together. I sang about everything I
was giving up to sing for her. Her face was stunned when the last notes of
the guitar faded. Everyone's eyes were on me; inside me, what stirred grew
in a crescendo.

	My father called me Stringbreaker the first time I clipped the
strings on his guitar. I couldn't make it sing the way he did when I
emulated his motions on the strings but they made almost as good a tone
when I snipped them. I always wondered if he knew the fate he sealed me
into with that name.

	Everyone clapped as soon as they recovered; people do not come to
college talent shows expecting to find talent. A few people moved closer
to the stage. Eyes moved between Dacia and me. The boys at Dacia's table
got up and walked away. They must have known her well enough to accept
there was no competing against someone whose life had been built on music
since birth. There were also the five years I hated during which I played
and sang for hours every day. I had hoped I would never sing again, but I
couldn't let Dacia go. No one knew about those five years, and I didn't
feel like talking about what I learned during that time.

	I pulled a small bottle of water out of my pocket. I took a sip
looking around the room until my eyes settled on Dacia again.

	"Next from Alejandro," I said to her. "Aprendiz
(Apprentice/Pupil)."

				-----
	
	'Tus besos saben tan amargos' (Your kisses taste so bitter)

	Six unspeakably glorious months followed. I was happy for the
first time since I turned eleven. Initially, I did not believe we were
going to be more than a night I cherished. I woke up to find Dacia
studying me the next morning.

	"Why am I here?" she asked.

	"I don't know," I told her honestly. "But I hope you never leave."

	The guys at the lab could not believe she and I were together. I
tried not to do the things teenage males are known for when they have gone
far above themselves. I did not talk about Dacia, but she got plenty of
possessive hugs and kisses when anyone was around.

	The nights were indescribable. I felt like my body and soul fused
whenever I touched her. She had a book under her bed on sexual positions.
It would have been enough for me to work with the standards, but Dacia's
smile when she found one she wanted to try was impossible to deny. I did
not care about the position. The look in her eyes when I entered her was
enough; desire, need and pleasure.

	She said the words first. It was probably an accident but she did
not take them back. She was visiting her parents for the weekend. We
talked on the phone for hours during the nights.

	"I love you," she said Saturday night before hanging up.

	It should have been goodbye.

	I stared at the phone for half an hour hoping she meant it. She
said it again the next night. I could not deny she meant each word when
she kissed me around them on her return. Dacia said them into my ear as
she circled her hips with my dick buried inside of her. She settled on top
of me and whispered the words again before falling asleep.

	I did not want to say them to her. Not because I didn't feel them,
but I thought the dream would be over with the summer. She did not hold
the silence against me. I almost said them several times after she did but
she put her hand on my mouth and told me to wait until they were bursting
to get out.

	'De ti aprendio mi Corazon' (From you, my heart learned.)

	I loved Dacia.

	I loved everything about her: the way she smelled after a bath or
during a bath, the weird laugh she tried to smother when I tickled her,
the feel of her hair in my hands when I kissed her, the little snore she
didn't know about, the way I felt with my dick stroking in and out of her
from behind.

	"I love you," I told her the night before classes started.

	"I know, baby," she said patting my chest. "I know."

	I slept peacefully that night.

	I can say I do not why we broke up, but it would be a lie. Dacia
heard inside me. She knew in her soul what I refused to be again. I never
played the guitar or sang for her. I never even told her I could. She
danced for me every night though. Her body called, begging me to make her
happy.

	It started slow, first the flirting with other guys. Seeing it
burned like acid. I always expected her to leave but not to have watch her
do it in inches day after day. The next step was the nights we didn't
spend together. I stayed awake the first one thinking about her, and the
second, and the third. After that, I spent them with my guitar. I did not
ask her what she did, where she was or with whom. I knew when she crossed
the line; she didn't say 'I love you' anymore.

	'Maldita la maestra y maldito el aprendiz, maldigo lo que amo, '
(Curse the teacher, and curse the pupil, I curse what I love.)

	She said the breakup words on a Friday night. I did not doubt she
was giving me the weekend to put myself back together. I did not hear the
words she used to say goodbye. They didn't matter; it was not what I
wanted to hear from her. I heard the last thing she said though. It
haunted me for a month.

	"I don't know, Michael," she whispered with tears in her eyes. "I
feel like you're not who I thought you were."

	I knew it then.

	It wasn't me she loved; it was who I was with a guitar in my
hands. The music inside me sang to her. It wanted out and she was the way.

	You never forget your first love. It felt like I thought about
Dacia every second of every day for a month. My father's guitar whispered
to me as I practiced. I did not even realize where I was going until I
stood in front of the coffee house. I knew she was inside so I made my
decision by touching the door.

	'Te lo debo, te lo debo, te lo debo a ti' (I owe it to you, I owe
it to you, I owe it to YOU.)

			------

	'Aprendiz' is not a song for when you want her back. It is for
when she has come back and you hurt her. Pain is what she taught you: how
to cause it. I wanted Dacia but she loved the music, a piece of me that
would never love her in return.

	They were quiet as I put the guitar away. Eyes watched me as I
made my way to the door. I hesitated before opening it to look back. Dacia
was staring at me with tears in her eyes. Those weren't the first tears a
woman cried when I sang. I was sure they would not be last Dacia cried.

	I nodded accepting my mistake. I should have been the music she
danced to from the beginning. I did not know until she left that I was no
longer living in the five years that destroyed most of me. She crossed the
line though; she had taken me back to the past for the months it took her
to walk away.

	I sat having lunch outside the student center on Monday thinking
about nothing.

	"Hello," Dacia said sitting down.

	She looked angry. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

	"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

	"You never asked," I replied sadly.

	"I never fucking asked?!?"

	"A single question about me," I said looking towards the street.
	
	It was unfair but not untrue. Dacia was a little selfish about
attention; she wanted it on her. I was perfect for her in so many little
ways.

	"That's who I thought you were, isn't it?" she asked suddenly.

	I turned to look at her.

	"You're not my type, Michael," she pointed out. "But there was
something pulling me to you."

	I shrugged.

	"How long have you been playing?"

	"All my life," I said.

	"Are you going to do it professionally?" she asked.

	Her voice was too eager with that last question.

	"That's a good question," a blonde woman said sitting down.

	Her blue eyes hungered at me.

	"And who are you?" Dacia asked bristling at the intrusion.

	The blonde put business cards on the table and passed one to each
of us. I continued studying her as Dacia picked one up.

	"DMC Entertainment," Dacia exclaimed looking at me excitedly. "A
recording company, Michael."

	I nodded waiting for the blonde to say something else.

	"I was at the show Saturday night," she explained. "I heard you
sing."

	"Wasn't he awesome?" Dacia asked slipping into 'you're my new best
friend' mode.

	The blonde smiled at Dacia and shrugged.

	"Michael has a lot of potential," she replied turning back to me.

	We stared at each for a minute before she looked away.

	"You're young to be so capable of holding a crowd in your hand,"
she said making eye contact again.

	"I've had a lot of experience," I told her.

	"Performing?"

	"Yes," I replied.

	"I doubt that," she pushed at me with. "Someone would have signed
you already, but I checked. You're on nobody's radar yet."

	"I haven't done anything in three years," I informed her.

	"You're nineteen, Michael," she said. "That would make you a baby
when you got all that experience. No dice, little boy. I watched your
fingers on the guitar, you're too good for anyone in the business not to
put you under lock and key as soon as they heard you."

	I tilted my head. She seemed to know a lot of about me having only
a Sunday to dig. She would be dangerous with time on her hands.

	"They were private shows," I said with finality.

	Both women sat back at tone of my voice. Dacia might have gotten
the truth while we were together but those doors were sealed shut now.

	"My name's Elizabeth," the blonde said a minute later. "I work
with the Latin arm of DMC."

	I watched Dacia's nipples harden; there was no cold breeze. I
sighed to myself.

	"I'd like to put something together with you for my co-workers."

	Dacia almost sprang out of her chair to hug Elizabeth. Dacia
looked at me enthusiastically. She reminded me of how my mother looked
when she encouraged my singing. I pushed the business card in front of me
back towards Elizabeth.

	"Write down the address and time," I told her.

	"It's not that easy, Michael," she said with some hesitation.

	"You found me, Elizabeth," I said. "I don't doubt you came
prepared."

	She studied me for a few seconds. I wondered if it would help
women if I wore a sign; 'I've seen the soul of one of your kind, don't
bother trying to hide'.

	"The address and time are written on the back of the card," she
said pushing it back to me.

	I picked it up and put in my pocket.

	"I'll be there," I said getting up.

	For the first time, Dacia followed me.

			-----

	I thought about Dacia on the train ride to my meeting with
Elizabeth's company. Dacia intimidated other women and knew when one was
sniffing around me. One kiss in front of the other lab workers was all it
took to get her message across that I was off-limits again. The girls who
saw me perform were a little more difficult to shake. I smiled out the
window wishing I had been there for Dacia's conversation with the most
aggressive of them. Someone told me you could hear Dacia on the first
floor of the dorm; she and the girl lived on the sixth.

	The receptionist did not need to ask my name. I passed her the
card and got a blinding smile.

	"Right this way, Michael," she said with a happiness that sounded
sincere.

	They had setup a small audition area in a conference room. I sat
on the stool in the middle of the room and took out my father's guitar. It
was ten minutes before Elizabeth walked in with seven other people. I
thought that was a bit much. Only two of them were male: an older
gentleman and younger one that that projected a certain air of disdain.

	"Hello, Michael," Elizabeth said brightly.

	She went around the room introducing me to everyone. The younger
male waved dismissively.

	"I've told them about you so all we really need is to hear you
perform a couple of songs," she said sitting down.

	The young man snorted rudely. I turned to face and he challenged
me with his eyes.

	"Well?" he asked contemptuously.

	"You seem to be working under a misconception," I told him. "I
don't really give a shit whether I sell a hundred million albums or never
make one. I do know if I record my music it will sell, so you're on the
edge of losing your company money."

	"Joseph!" the older man said before the younger could retort.
"Let's see if Elizabeth's ear for talent is still true. She has brought in
more successful artists than anyone here except myself. I've never seen
her so enthusiastic so I imagine this will be interesting."

	Joseph settled down deciding he did not want to challenge the
older man. I caught the smile of a few of the women; Joseph must have been
unpopular with the ladies.

	"So young man," the older gentleman said turning to me. "What do
you play?"

	"What would you like me to play?"

	"What can you play?" he asked with a smile.

	"My father loved classical, and my mother preferred Latin," I told
him. "I loved them both."

	"Your parents or their choice of music?" he asked.

	I nodded.

	"Well, I keep telling these children they need to respect the
masters," he said throwing a grandfatherly smile at the women. "How about
we start there?"

	I thought about it for a minute but from where deep inside a piece
came to me.

	"This one time, Elizabeth, for you," I said looking at her.
"Sleepers Awake! from Cantata 140."

	It was not the most difficult piece I could play from memory but
considering the circumstances, it seemed appropriate. I never planned to
audition for anything; practice in the silence of my room a few hours a
day was all I needed until Dacia left.

	The feeling was the same as when I was a boy, a swelling of music
inside until it completely filled me. I barely held on to the mast of the
ship I became while the storm waged through me. After I finished, I sang
'Kilometros' (Kilometers) and then 'Toca Para Mi' (Play for me). It did
not matter what they wanted. I had whom I wanted; they were part of the
price.

	"Not what I was looking for," Elizabeth said thoughtfully when the
last note faded.

	"Not what you were looking for?!?" one of the other women
exclaimed. "Are you fucking crazy, Elizabeth? If you don't want him, I'll
manage him. Can we put out the first album with just him and the guitar,
Gabriel?"

	"What do you mean, Elizabeth?" the older man asked waving away the
question.

	"It didn't feel like when you sang in the cafe for Dacia," she
said staring at me. "You're good. Hell! Shannon's right, you are worth
risking putting out a pure acoustic album first but you played with my
heart strings Saturday night."

	"I broke them," I said with a smile.

	"What?"

	"My father called me Stringbreaker because I chopped his guitar
strings into six inch strips once," I said forgetting where I was. "My
mother said it was the perfect name when I broke her heart strings with
the first song I ever wrote. You're the first person to use those words in
a long time."

	"You write your own music?" she asked.

	"At times."

	"You're not making this easy, Michael," she warned.

	"So I can leave?" I asked her seriously.

	"No," Gabriel commanded.

	I shrugged.

	"Do you have one of your songs that we can hear?" Shannon asked
curiously.

	I sighed knowing I was beaten.

	"I wrote something last month," I told them. "Enamorado Sin Ti.
(In Love Without You)."

	There was silence afterwards or maybe I couldn't hear anything. I
wrote it for Dacia but I did not have the desire to play it Saturday
night. They whispered among themselves for a couple of minutes leaving me
alone.

	"Are you okay, son?" Gabriel asked coming to stand in front of me.

	I gave him a small smile.

	"You meant it, didn't you?" he asked. "You really don't care if
you ever record an album."

	"I had a nice career in IT planned out for myself," I told him.

	"A career in IT, is there anybody on that career path that
actually planned on it?"

	"I did," I said quietly.

	"Son, God doesn't throw talent like yours around," Gabriel said.
"Do you know what some people would do to be in this room, never mind have
everyone here convinced you're the next big thing?"

	"I'd give it to any one of them."

	"How old are you?" he asked.

	"Nineteen," I told him.

	"You have to practice for years to play like you do, Michael," he
said curiously. "Why bother if it wasn't to make music your life?"

	"Music was my life until three years ago. It ended."

	"Someday you'll have to tell me what you mean by that," he said
with a smile that he should have only given to another old man.

	I guess that is what I was inside.

	"When I tell it in a song, you'll know," I told him.

	"So never," he said with a smirk.

	"Yeah, just about then."

			-----

	Elizabeth caught me at the elevator.

	"Don't you have several meetings to go to?" I asked her. "I mean
doesn't breaking out a new artist take planning."
	
	"Gabriel wants to think about it," she told me stepping into the
elevator. "You're more versatile than I expected. He'd like to take
advantage of that. He wanted me to ask if you play electric."

	"Tell him I like the way violin solos sound on an electric
guitar."

	"Hmmm," she said.

	She leaned back against the wall of the elevator staring at me. I
had nothing better to do but watch the numbers drop.

	"What is Dacia to you?" she asked halfway down.

	"You seem to know a lot about me, even her name," I said. "Why
don't you tell me?"

	"You could be my next promotion," she told me. "I want to know
everything about you."

	"What does Dacia have to do with career advancement?"

	"Musicians derail, Michael. I also prefer to know my obstacles
with a man."

	I turned to look at her. Three steps were all I needed to press
her against the wall. She sighed opening her mouth for my tongue. The bell
sounded for the lobby. I stepped away from her. She took a deep breath and
leaned over to press the button for the top floor.

	"So what is Dacia?" she asked staring at the numbers as they
climbed.

	"The love of my life."

	"You throw those words around carelessly."

	"No, I don't."

	She was quiet after that. When we reached the top floor, she
pressed the button for the lobby again.

	"So what am I going to be?" she asked without looking at me.

	"You throw those questions around rather lightly."

	"No, I don't."

	"You are our future," I told her.

	"Our?"

	I tapped the guitar case against the wall. She looked at it and
nodded.

	"Want to get something to eat?" she asked.

	"In your apartment?" I asked with a smile.

	"You're different sometimes," she said thoughtfully. "Like today
with your music. It was fantastic but a little cold until you sang about
Dacia."

	"You knew it was about Dacia?"

	"She's the love of your life, right?"

	"We're different people with different people, Elizabeth," I told
her.

	"Who are you with me?"

	I tapped the guitar case against the wall again.

	"Who does Dacia get to sleep with?"

	"The one that loves her."

	"Can we trade?" she asked stepping out of the elevator.

	She knew the answer to that question so I did not bother saying
anything. It wasn't a long drive to her apartment. I put the guitar case
next to the door and looked around.

	"This has to cost you a pretty penny," I told her.

	"I get paid well," she said pulling out a bottle of white wine
from the refrigerator.

	"I'm not old enough to drink," I told her.

	"You're here with me," she said pouring a glass. "Isn't that
against the rules of love? Why worry over a little thing like underage
drinking when you're breaking someone's heart?"

	"I'm not breaking any hearts," I told her. "I don't drink."

	"Any particular reason why?" she asked.

	"My own."

	"You know the silent type went out of style some time ago."

	I walked to pick up my guitar case and opened the door.

	"Michael, wait," she said grabbing my arm. "I'm sorry."

	She did not meet my eyes when I turned to look at her. I put the
guitar case down and closed the door. She drank her glass of wine and
poured another.

	"Does Dacia know why you're like this?" she asked suddenly.

	"No."

	"But she could have?"

	"You're very intuitive," I said.

	She nodded slowly.

	"Inquisitive, too."

	"I'd like know everything about you," she said. "So does Dacia
know why you're like this?"

	"A month ago I might have answered her questions," I said
honestly.

	"But not now?"

	"Why do you want to know, Elizabeth?"

	"Maybe she can get me the answers I want."

	"No, she can't," I said with a sigh.

	"Why not?"

	"I wasn't what she wanted," I said looking out her window. "Dacia
didn't care about answers then or now."

	"You're what she wants now though."

	"I'm not who I was a month ago. Different people at different
times too," I told her. "Where's your bedroom?"

	"You're very cocky," she said.

	I took a step towards the door.

	"That door over there," she said hurriedly. "Why the fuck am I
behaving like this?"

	"Make believe I'm Gabriel's age, Elizabeth," I said. "You'll deal
with me much better that way."

	"You're only nineteen, Michael."

	I opened the door to her bedroom and stepped inside. I was lying
naked on her bed when she walked in.

	"No one's this confident," she said staring at me.

	"Tell me to leave," I said.

	"Fuck you, Michael," she said unzipping her dress.

	I did not know a woman could be so elegant naked. I got out of the
bed and put my arms around her waist.

	"I'm ten years older than you," she protested but not about what
we were going to do.

	I looked into her eyes; what I had lived wasn't there.

	"No, you're not," I said before kissing her.

	Being with her was cold fire that burned uncontrollably without
destroying. I tilted her head back to kiss her neck. Her breast fit
perfectly in my hand. The nipple rose as I passed my thumb over it. I woke
the other nipple gently. I turned us around and lay Elizabeth on the bed.
There was mystery in her eyes as I got on top of her; she closed them when
my lips touched hers. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me down.
Her mouth opened to take my tongue in.

	I kissed a line down her neck until I could draw circles around
her nipples with my tongue. She gasped at the moisture and ran her fingers
through my hair. I took a nipple into my mouth with a hard suck. She
pushed her chest against me wanting more. I switched breasts and got the
same push of desire.

	I trailed my fingers down her stomach, past her pubic mound and
into moisture. She moaned as I opened her lips. I moved my face up until I
could kiss her again. Her tongue penetrated into my mouth in imitation of
my finger below. Her pussy gripped me tightly for a second and then
released. Her nails dug into my shoulder when I pulled out of her. I moved
my hand up until two fingers pressed against her clit. I had gathered her
wetness so my touch on her sensitivity was smooth. I pushed her tongue
back into her mouth with mine. My fingers moved in small clockwise
circles. Her legs opened as the pleasure she felt gained a focus. She
drove her hands into my hair and pulled me closer to her. I deepened the
kiss and sped up my fingers on her.

	"Oh God!" she whispered breaking our kiss. "Oh, my God!"

	I fucked her pussy with my fingers while using my palm to keep
stimulating her clit. Her legs locked around my hand but it was too late.
She raised her hips and groaned as the orgasm subsumed her.

	"No, please no!" she begged when I began to kiss my way down her
stomach.

	"Ssshhhh!" I said licking a circle around her belly button.

	"Michael, please I need a break!"

	"Not yet," I admonished putting her legs over my shoulders.

	She smelled like sunflower musk should and tasted almost sweet. I
licked up the remains of her orgasm before focusing on bringing her a
second one. The first strokes of my tongue were gentle reminding her body
of pleasure only a minute old.

	"Please!" she whispered.

	I sucked on her clit softly. She moaned as I licked it. I let her
go and dug my tongue as deep into her as I could. When I gave her clit
attention again, she was ready. I pressed the flat of my tongue against
her and licked up fast. The flick of my tongue caused her hips to jump and
a short gasp to escape her lips. I smiled not having expected it. I did it
again and so did she. I licked her ten more times and each time her hips
jumped while she gasped. I only stopped because she tried to rip my hair
out from the roots. I sucked her clit hard and licked it fast from left to
right. She screamed and turned her hips trying to escape. I wrapped my
arms around her thighs preventing any motion.

	"JESUS!" she screamed as I sucked and licked even harder. "FUCK!"

	Her flavor darkened as she pushed her hips against me no longer
trying to escape when another orgasm struck her center. Her thighs
tightened around my head until I could not hear the sounds that escaped
her mouth. It didn't matter, her body was telling me to keep sucking and
licking.

	Finally, her grip relaxed. I put her knees in the crook of my arms
and moved upward. She kissed me through the taste of her passion. Her hand
moved down between us to take a tight grasp of my rampantly hard cock. The
instant my dick touched her pussy I pushed forward with the strength of my
hips. I levered my hands below her body to take a strong grip on her ass
cheeks. Spreading her, I pulled back and took everything Elizabeth's body
could give me. I swallowed her scream.

	It wasn't making love or having sex. It was animal fucking,
desperate surges of need. My dick pulsed as I pounded into her without
thought to her pleasure. I'd given her two orgasms. It was my turn; her
nails ripping into my back wasn't a protest though. I buried my face into
her neck and she bit my shoulder hard.

	"HOLY SHIT!" she groaned as her pussy put me in a vise grip.

	I bared my teeth fighting through the new tightness of her
orgasmic hold. I fucked in and out of her feeling the orgasm begin to grow
inside me. She must have felt something because she hugged me tightly with
her arms and legs.

	"Yes!" she encouraged into my ear. "Cum inside me! Cum inside me!"

	My thrusts became shallow at her depth as I drove myself over the
edge. I pulled back one last time and thrust in hard.

	I burst into her.

			-----

	"Do you touch Dacia like that?" Elizabeth asked while I dressed
the next morning.

	She was lying naked on the bed studying me.

	"Why do you ask?"

	"I like to know my place in the world," she said.

	"No."

	"You should."

	"Why, Elizabeth?"

	"That's the way she wants you to touch her."

	"It's not the way I want to touch Dacia."

	"Did you play and sing yesterday because you wanted to?" she
asked.

	"Are you psychic?" I asked.

	"Intuitive, remember?"

	"So what do you want?"

	"For you to look at me the way you look at her," she sighed.

	"Does any woman want what she has?"
	
	"Every woman wants it all, Michael."

	"You can't have it all."

	"Dacia could have."

	"She didn't want me, Elizabeth."

	"Don't I get a shot at everything?"

	"I know the way out," I said.

	Dacia was waiting in my room when I got home.

	"Where were you?" she asked.

	"With Elizabeth," I said walking to the window and staring out.

	"Why?" she asked.

	"She can guarantee everything... we want," I replied.

	"So you fucked her for it?" she asked.

	"I wanted to," I said simply.

	"You said you loved me!" she protested with pain in her voice.

	I turned to look at her.

	"I remember you saying the same thing," I told her. "I also
remember kissing you with the smell of another man still clinging to you.
I took a shower first but it's okay if you don't want to kiss me."

	I looked out the window again.

	"You did this to get back at me?" she asked surprised. "I thought
you were better than that."

	"A musician is only faithful to his music," I said quietly. "I did
it because my body wanted her and it's not my body you want anyway."

	"Do you still love me?" she asked.

	"Yes."

	"As much as before?"

	"Yes."

	"Lucky for you, I like girls too," she said with a sniff.

	I was still young enough for that to give me pause.

			-----

	Dacia and I walked into the auditorium. There were hundreds of
kids waiting to audition. The one on stage was doing his best not to
embarrass himself and not succeeding.

	"Have you heard of the Latin reality show Protagonistas?"
Elizabeth asked walking up to us.

	"El Cara a Cara (The Face to Face)," Dacia said with a wicked
smile.

	"My mother and I watched it religiously for two years," I told
Elizabeth.

	"Are you okay?" they asked at the same time.

	I smiled inside hoping they never felt death's grip on their heart
like I had a second before.

	"I'll be fine," I replied to neither in particular.

	"It's a great opportunity to expose you to the Latin audience,"
Elizabeth told me. "This show is watched by millions, Michael."

	I nodded.

	"They're doing another one for musicians this year," she told us.
"DMC is putting up the recording contracts so we asked that you be given
an audition."

	"I thought I pretty much had a contract," I said.

	"We want to break you outside the US market first. Here you might
be bottled into a single musical category," she said. "We need to make you
very visible and Protagonistas is shown in almost every Latin country."

	I nodded slowly.

	"Arrange for me to be next, Elizabeth," I said as my stomach
heaved violently.

	"I can't do that, Michael," she said.

	"You should've told me this was what you were planning," I said
angrily. "Either I'm next or it ends here."

	"Why are you..." she said and then covered her mouth with her
hands. "Oh God! You said your mother and you watched Protagonistas
religiously!"

	"What?" Dacia asked putting a hand on Elizabeth's bicep.

	I figured on Elizabeth finding out what happened to my family. Her
desire to know everything about me would have driven her and all the
records were public.

	"I'm so sorry, Michael," Elizabeth said regretfully.

	A lot of people told me they were sorry; it didn't change
anything.

	"You're next," Elizabeth promised hurrying away.

	"What is she talking about?" Dacia asked me.

	I walked away, maybe a month before I would have answered her
question.

			-----

	People whispered as I stepped on stage. The order of auditions had
been violated and they wanted to know why. I took my father's guitar out
of the case and sat in front of the microphone. They would know soon
enough. I adjusted the microphone to the right height and took a deep
breath.

	"Desde este dia y siempre, para mi mama (From this day and
forever, for my mother)," I said into the mike.

	'Amiga Mia' is a famous song in the Spanish-speaking world.
Alejandro Sanz sings about being friends with a woman who is in love with
one of his close friends. It's not the standard cliché though, just a song
where he tells his female friend that her story, her feelings, and her
pain are important to him because she is his friend. I sang it from a
different place and to a different woman.

	'Amiga mia, lo se, solo vives por el, ' (My friend, I know, you
only live for him)

	My first memory is about everything I was for eleven years. I was
two and half years old. I had a pair of wire cutters in one hand and my
father's guitar on the floor.

	*clip*

	I remember laughing.

	*clip*

	"Michael!" my father yelled when he came into the room to find me
cutting the strings into even smaller lengths.

	I jumped and cried from the shock. My mother rushed into the room
to pick me up. She kissed my tears away and admonished my father for
making me cry. He had the remains of the guitar strings in his hands and
held them out to her.

	"Teach him how to play then," she told him reasonably kissing my
cheek. "He'll have something better to do with a guitar than cut the
strings."

	Nobody had to tell me what love was. I saw it in my father's eyes;
he could do nothing but smile while looking at my mother. I turned to her
and saw the same thing in her eyes. I don't know how they had enough room
in their hearts to love anything but each other.

	I was raised in a home full of love and music.

	My father taught me the guitar. His training was classical but as
much as he loved the music he lacked the spark of talent to play
professionally. His love must have created the talent in me when I was
born, as much as he loved the guitar that was my potential. Other fathers
might have cracked the whip or done worse, but his smiles were all the
reward I needed to practice for hours on end. My mother loved our playing
but my eighth birthday is when she became another focus in my music.

	I did not need friends because I had my mother. She dropped me off
at school and picked me up every day. She answered every question I asked
and played with me every afternoon. She tucked me into bed with a kiss
each night.

	I do not know why but from somewhere I decided I wanted to give
her a present on my birthday. I chose a song; I don't even remember which
one. I practiced it in secret until I thought it was perfect; not good
enough for my mother, but at least it was perfect. She cried through my
performance. She picked me up for hugs and kisses.

	"Mi amor, (My love)" she whispered. "Mi amor. Mi bello, bello
amor. (My love. My beautiful, beautiful love.)"

	My mother insisted on singing lessons. They were after school
before my father got home so they would not interfere with his time with
me. My life was the guitar, singing, and my parents' love.

	'Amiga mia no se que decir, ni que hacer para verte feliz' (My
friend I don't know what to say or, what do to see you happy)

	If there is a more evil word than cancer, I haven't heard it since
my mother spoke it two weeks after my eleventh birthday. Death is a word,
a concept, a phrase. 'Mama went to heaven.' Cancer is the angel of death
sitting down at the dinner table and eating your serving of platanos
maduros (fried plantains). I did not know what that word meant but there
was fear in my mother's eyes. My father wasn't in the room; I wanted him
to tell me why my mother was afraid. I had to ask a teacher what cancer
was. She cried and made me afraid.

	My father found a place to hide in a daily bottle of alcohol. How
can you expect a child to survive when his father is broken by a single
word? I do not call it survival, but I lived for my mother as she lived to
see my father smile again.

	My mother's pain was not just physical. I did not have to be an
adult to know that. She went to the doctor a lot but alone. The second
month of doctor's visits, she found me sitting in the backseat waiting for
her.

	"No, Michael," she said with tears in her eyes.

	I ignored her and played my guitar on the way there. The other
patients did not seem to mind when I sang quietly in the waiting room.

	My father moved out of the master bedroom in the third month of my
mother's ordeal. I spent as much time in there with her as I could. It
took two months for her to learn to cry in front of me. I was singing when
her tears began to flow. Her chin was up afterwards and I thought I had
found a way to ease the emotional pain in her eyes.

	My singing teacher was a woman and had no problem teaching me in
the bedroom. My mother was hugs and kisses after every song. The teacher
didn't mind the interruptions either. I refused to take music lessons
except with my mother there; guitar lessons were the only time that my
mother and father spent in the same room anymore. I think I should not
have insisted. My mother cried, soul deep sobs, when he left the room
after every lesson.

	I did not see my father cry until the end.

	'Amiga mia, princesa de un cuento infinito' (My friend, princess
of an endless story)

	There were months of hope and laughter. Days when we almost forgot
our world was my mother's disease. The visits to the doctor were sometimes
feared and other times wished for. My mother took me in to those rooms
with her. She made the doctor explain each new hope for the cancer to be
beaten. My mother believed it but I saw something different in the
doctor's eyes. He did not. I believed enough for him and me. I believed
enough for my father too.

	At least, I thought I did. The doctor was right though; hope and
belief do not beat cancer. Love does, but my mother needed a love that
fled death.

	The first song I wrote was for my mother. I wanted to tell her
what we would do after she was healthy: dance, sing, be happy, and find my
father again. Every song I wrote for those years was for her.

	She was incredibly beautiful. All children think their mother is
but I knew it. The day her hair started falling out from the chemo, she
cried for hours. The only Spanish words my father knew were 'mi bella' (my
beautiful). My mother did not think she was beautiful now. I tried to tell
her she was, but she didn't need to hear it from me.

	The second year, I had to learn how not to cry until she fell
asleep.

	I asked the doctor if my mother was going to die. He tried to lie;
I never thanked him for that. I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling.
Sleep couldn't find me around the tightness in my chest. My mother was
dying. I walked into her room and crawled under her bed. I made sure my
crying did not wake her.

	I was twelve years old.

	She found out that I slept under her bed every night a couple of
months later. She tried to make me stop but every morning I was there.
When I became too big for that, I slept at her feet. I needed to hear my
mother breathing for sleep to take me.

	Her pain drove the third year. She lost so much weight that I
could see the bones of her cheeks. I sang and played for my mother. It was
the only time I saw her smile. She told my singing teacher that she almost
did not feel the pain when I brought the music back into her life. I
played until my fingers bled, and sang until my throat ached.

	She continued fighting. The doctor could not believe it. The
cancer ravaged her body and he didn't know how she kept going. I would
have told him.

	My mother loved my father.

	She fought for five years; I sang and played every one of those
one thousand eight hundred and twenty six days. My father never came to
her. He never said the words that belonged to her. I don't know if he said
a single word to her in those five years.

	I was holding her hand when she died. I held on to it until she
turned cold. I didn't have tears left to cry.

	My father was waiting at the dinner table. He did not look at me.

	"Mi bella is dead," he said. "My wife is dead."

	The tears finally fell freely from his eyes. He brought his hand
from under the table. The gun was already cocked. He put it to his temple;
I thought guns made a louder noise when they were fired. They told me that
if the bullet were foot and half to the left my father would have killed
me too.

	'Que toda esta historia me importa porque eres mi amiga' (That all
of this story matters to me because you are my friend.)

			-----

	I put the guitar away with the tears almost blinding me. I found
them again almost three years after my mother died. I still didn't cry for
my father, but at my mother's gravestone I learned to let the saltwater
free again. It was the day I told Dacia I loved her.

	I picked up the guitar case and walked off the stage. Everyone was
quiet and turned their heads to watch me leave. There wasn't a woman in
the room that did not have to wipe tears out of her eyes.

	"I love you," Dacia said when I stood by her.

	"I..." Elizabeth started to say but stopped to squeeze her eyes
shut.

	I left.

			-----

	Dacia and Elizabeth were in bed whispering to each other when the
call came. Elizabeth pounced naked from the bed to her purse. She dug her
cell phone out and answered it.

	"You're in," Elizabeth told me.

	Dacia screamed and danced around the bed. I watched her naked
body. Dacia did not need music to move sensuously. Elizabeth leaned down
and kissed me. I buried a pair of fingers into her pussy. Dacia grabbed my
face and turned it towards her. It took a couple of seconds for my eyes to
soften. She smiled as Elizabeth turned me back to her.

	They sat back on the bed and whispered between them again. I shook
my head. I was surprised to find both the women waiting when I got home.
Dacia did not tolerate rivals and I doubted Elizabeth was in love with
sharing. They were in my room as if they were best friends and I wasn't a
man between them.

	I closed my eyes and thought about my parents. It was three months
after they died before I picked the guitar up again. My father's first
lessons were all I could play for days. I did not sing again until I did
it to get Dacia back. I strummed those first lessons while listening to
the women.

	I opened my eyes to see them kissing.

	"So tell me about Michael's mother," Dacia said to Elizabeth who
looked at me.

	Elizabeth had the story right, but not the details. She did not
know my mother was my friend; my closest friend, my best friend, the only
friend I would ever allow. She did not know I liked bad movies because I
used to cry in the back of an empty movie theatre where no one would
bother me. I would never tell them about the last time my mother went
outside, an Alejandro Sanz concert.

	My family's story was mine. A lot of people would say if I spoke
it would be easier to bear. What did they want me to say? That sometimes
love, an absolutely beautiful love that made a child happy, could not face
death. The stupid ones would tell me that my father did not really love my
mother or maybe he didn't love her enough. The others would be worse
though, because I would have to see their faith in love die a little.

	My mother never stopped loving my father, not for one second of
any day in the five years he was not there for her. I did not know how she
could hold on to her love, but as the bullet passed I understood. His soul
died every inch with her and I made him do it alone. In those five years,
both of my parents were dying but I only saw the suffering of one. I
abandoned my father when he needed me too.

	The two women did not say anything for a long time.

	"How do you do it?" Elizabeth asked finally.

	"Do what?" I asked softly.

	"That room," Dacia answered for her. "Everyone was with you while
you sang."

	I looked between both of them.

	"Mi mama canta conmigo." (My mother sings with me.)