Eyes like Gray Clouds

It was a dry afternoon. The waves of sun beat down on the earth like buzzards wings. An American sat at our outside table with a girl. Her face was like pale yogurt.

Manuel sucked his cigar. “You like Americans.”

My reflection shimmered in the beer. I smoothed back my hair.

“Ask them what they want.”

“He’ll order two beers.” His face was obscured by the bamboo bead curtain. He had a fine form.

The American tilted his head and called, “dos cervazas.”

I looked up at Manuel to make sure he heard. I called back through the beads, “big ones?”

His dusky voice floated through the curtain, yes.

Manuel poured the beers. I stroked out two felt pads from the pile on the bar. Leaning back, I strode onto the platform. The beads slid up my shoulders.

The girl was long and pale white against the yellow hills. He had given into the sun and was dark with eyes like gray clouds. A fly landed on his strong brow. He batted it away. She looked off at the hills.

I winked at the man. He drank his beer in one gulp. I watched it slide down his throat. I could feel my lips on his rough, warm neck. I backed into the bar never taking my eyes from his face. He looked from his drink to her. He must be a wonderful lover.

Manuel flicked the stump of his cigar at me. Hot ash burned my arm. The stale smell of the station filled my nose.

“Clean up these glasses.”

“He needs another drink.”

“I’ll make him another drink.”

The American shouted. I pivoted to the door.

“He has a girl, hermanita.”

I set down the empty glasses and glided through the curtain. There were bags under his eyes. This girl was not good for him. Perhaps drinking kept her quiet. She had never had Anis before. I offered her some water to break the drink. He had to decide for her.

A hot breeze crept around the building and ruffled his hair. My fingers wanted to stroke it back into place. She did not seem to notice.

“Si, con agua.”

I liked his Spanish. It was not full of hate like Manuel’s. He would not look at me long enough to invite him to bed. I brought the drinks. The girl held his gaze from me. The curtain blew out toward the table as I went inside.

Manuel was cleaning the bar by himself.

“Did you make love to him yet?” he asked.

“Yes, but he did not notice.” I dropped a glass into the tub. “Two more beers.”

“He drinks like a fish.” Manuel made a scraping sound in his throat and spat into a glass. “Here is his beer.”

I winked at my big brother and stepped out onto the platform, careful to give the girl Manuel’s glass. I caught the American’s attention and told him to meet me in the bar in five minutes. The girl looked puzzled and asked him to translate my invitation. He told her something about the train. She smiled at me.

The man excused himself and picked up his bags. I watched the muscles dance under his skin. I walked through the bar and met him on the other side of the station. The train would be here soon. I took him to my room.

When we were done I served him Anis at the bar to cool him down. Manuel waited until he strolled back out of the beaded curtain. He grabbed me by the arm.

“Did you serve him the beer?”

“Si, Manuel. I served him.” My cheeks flushed.

The girl smiled at my stormy American. The train whistled as it came down through the hills and then they were gone.