By Chris H.

A note from Chris: This kiss story is very loosely based on the character Anthony Quintana, created by Barbara Parker in her series of mystery novels. I got hooked reading them, and could not imagine Anthony as anyone but Antonio. When I started her third book (with Anthony), she mentioned him having a poster of Che Guevera on his wall in his college days. It only took a moment for me to take this mental leap, a connection to my very first kiss story.

I was a freshman at the University of Miami. It was the typical first year in college. Lots of hard work, along with the shock of finding that high school was a joke as a preparation for college. But also so much fun! I had met so many people, and made many new friends. I studied to make good grades, to make my mother proud.

She had worked to make sure I could go to school, as she had done. Her name was well known among journalists because of her work in the 50’s, mostly in South America. She had met my father in Argentina, when the Perons’ were in power. The assignment was to report on the political situation there, and there, she met a handsome revolutionary called Che. He had helped her when she was injured in a riot, and they had become lovers, then very good friends. She could not stay with him when she met him in Argentina, but they had remained close through letters. She met him again in the late 50’s, and they both found that they still loved each other deeply, but they still could not get past the huge differences in their lives. My mother was from a country he had come to despise, and she was not willing to give up her home and everything comfortable to help him in a Marxist revolution. But they couldn’t stop their intense feelings for each other, and I am the product of that last meeting.

I never knew my father, and only learned who he really was in the year before my first year at Miami. My mother never talked about him, even when I asked about him as a child. I remember vividly when I was about 8, I found her staring at the television and crying. I asked her what was wrong, but she would not tell me anything. She sobbed and held me, and I remember thinking she was going to die. I now know that she had heard on the news that my father had been executed in Bolivia.

I learned all of this the week before I started college. She sat down and told me about him, the passion she had felt for him, and the grief she had felt that day she found out he was dead. I was only vaguely aware of ever having heard his name as an historical figure, so to find out that my father was so famous stunned me. I still haven’t really come to terms with the fact that my father was Che Guevera, friend of Castro, revolutionary, physician. I had so much to learn about myself, and found I was in the perfect environment for this self-discovery. But I never told anyone, because I knew no one would believe me.

I started my freshman year in college with this new information about myself, and spent many hours trying to learn all I could about this man. I saw pictures of a handsome man, long black hair, and in most of the pictures he had a beard. I read things about him that made me proud of him, and other things that made me cringe. And, being in Miami, there was a wealth of information about him, although much of it was negative, and mostly of his days in Cuba. I still had not decided what I thought of him, but I did know my mother had found something special in their relationship.

Ah, what a life, the life of a college freshman. Kay, my roommate and best friend on campus, and I had “clicked” the day we met. We did everything together. One typical hot south Florida Friday evening, she insisted that I go to a frat party with her so she could meet someone. I was not looking forward to it at all, but I agreed to go, knowing she would do the same for me.

That is when I first saw him. He was a bronze god. He had long, almost black, curly hair, loosely pulled back in a ponytail. He was wearing khaki shorts and a loose short sleeved shirt, which revealed a tantalizing bit of dark curly hair on his chest. I couldn’t help but stare as him. He was older, at least a junior. As I watched him, I couldn’t decide why he was there. He talked to any person who spoke to him, but he looked completely bored.

Kay and I spent 45 minutes in a slow spin in the room; she was trying to watch the fellow she was interested in and I was watching this dark handsome man.

She finally said, “Who are you looking at? I thought we were here for me to talk to Noel.”

I teased back, “What was I supposed to do after you finally got up the courage to talk to him? Stand here by myself?”

She giggled, and I said, “Go on, Kay. You aren’t going to score any points talking to me.”

She smiled and nodded, and left and I turned to look for the handsome guy I had seen. I didn’t see him anywhere! Rats! I thought, he must have left while I was talking to Kay. Oh great, now what was I going to do? I sighed, and decided I could get another beer. I turned toward the keg, and ran right into his arms.

He fended me off, and we both said, “Sorry.” I looked up into his face, and he smiled. He looked so familiar somehow.

He said, “your cup is empty, do you want another beer?”

“That’s where I was headed,” I replied.

He touched my arm, and said, “Let’s go then. Are you as bored with this crowd as I?”

His voice was deep and resonant, with the slightest trace of an accent. We walked to the keg and he filled my cup, then his. He told me his name was Anthony and asked me if I was a freshman, what classes I was taking, what I liked. I told him my friends called me Chase.

“Don’t ask,” as I saw the puzzled look on his face. “It is my mother’s nickname for me.”

He encouraged me to talk, and listened intently to me. After several minutes, I finally got a chance to ask him some questions. He was a junior, and was planning to go to law school after he graduated. He was from Cuba, but had lived in Miami since he was 13. I asked him question after question, because I wanted to hear his rich deep voice, but the more he spoke the more fascinated I became with his background.

We had to stop talking for a moment, as the volume of the music suddenly increased, and we were drowned out by the commotion. Someone turned the stereo down, and Anthony said, “Listen, I have an apartment near the campus. We could go back there and talk some more. It would be much quieter.”

I hesitated, and he said, “Please. You hesitate because you don’t really know me? Um, my roommate will be there, and as it happens, she is my cousin. I wouldn’t dare do anything to a harm a woman or she would kill me.”

I laughed nervously, and he said, “If you would like, I could call and let you speak to her so you would know that she is there.”

I looked into his dark eyes, and said, “No. That’s ok. I think I trust you. I just need to tell my friend Kay I am leaving.”

I found Kay and told her. She was still talking to Noel and barely heard me. I met Anthony at the door, and we left the party. We walked across the campus, talking as we went. He told me some about being a kid in Cuba, and how difficult it was to leave his father and sister behind. How he hoped to go back and visit them some day. He talked about his father and how he had lost his eyesight in the fighting when Castro came into power. As I listened to him talk, I wondered what he would think if I told him about my father. I knew he would not believe me. How could anyone believe such a far-fetched story? He would think I was only trying to get his attention, to have some tie with his past. But his stories made me want to talk about it so much.

We crossed the street and moved through the buildings of an old apartment complex. He led me to a building and walked up the outer stairs to an apartment on the third floor. He unlocked the door, and flipped on the light switch. “Ana?” he called. “Hey, where are you?” The apartment was dark except for the single overhead light that Anthony had turned on. He turned to me. “I am sorry, she said she would be home tonight. If you don’t want to come in, I can walk you back to the party or… do you live on campus? I could walk you to your dorm if you would rather.”

I looked at him and said, “Oh, well we are here, and well, I at least need to use your bathroom.”

“Of course!” he replied. “Sure! Come in.”

The apartment was spotless. The décor was typical college student stuff. The furniture was a little threadbare and the walls bore a few cheaply framed posters. Anthony pointed down the hall to the bathroom, and I went. I didn’t want to end our conversation, but I knew I probably shouldn’t stay there with him, alone. I looked at my face in the mirror. I combed my hair, straightened up my make-up, and tried to make myself more presentable. I really found Anthony fascinating. His looks were mesmerizing, and his conversation made me want to stay here and listen to him forever. I didn’t want this evening to end.

I walked out of the bathroom. Anthony had turned the stereo on, and was sitting, flipping through a magazine. He looked up and smiled. “Do you want to walk back now? I am sorry to have dragged you this far…”

“No,” I replied. “Let’s stay here and talk some more. This music, what is it? I really like it.”

“It is a local Cuban radio station. They play traditional songs on Friday nights. You like it?”

“This song is really beautiful, but I don’t really understand the words. My Spanish isn’t too good.”

“It is a ballad about a man who puts his lover on a boat to Miami during the revolution. She is the daughter of a wealthy man, and he is not of her class, but they are in love. She arrives in Miami in safety, but is pregnant with his son, who he will never know, because he dies in one of the battles.”

Anthony hummed gently with the music. It was a beautiful song, a duet of verses that apparently told the story. I couldn’t understand the words, but the emotion was clear in the music and the voices. My thoughts turned to my mother and Che. I closed my eyes, entranced by the sound of the music.

When the song ended, I opened my eyes to find Anthony’s dark expressive eyes watching me.

“You were a million miles away just now. What were you thinking of?”

“You would never believe me. Let’s just say it reminds me of my mother and father, a little.”

“Your father is Cuban?”

“No.” I sighed, “I never knew him, but he was from Argentina. My mother was a news reporter and she met him there, years ago. I am my mother’s only child. They were never married…”

He nodded, then said, “it must have been hard to grow up with no father, and none of his family.”

“When I was little, I didn’t know any better. My mother always said my father was dead, and everyone thought my mother was a widow. Now I truly regret not knowing him.”

He didn’t say anything. Another song came on the radio, and we talked about the music we liked. I found myself comparing his face to the pictures I had seen of my father. There was an uncanny resemblance, even though I had never seen a picture of my father when he was Anthony’s age.

We talked about everything. He poured some wine and we talked more. He told of his plans to go to Central America during the summer. His friends and he were going to Nicaragua as volunteers. He was so enthusiastic about the trip and the work they would do. I finally glanced at the clock on the wall and realized it was almost 2am.

“Anthony, it is so late… I have to go home…”

He looked at the clock. “Chase, I am sorry. I didn’t realize…”

We both stood up.

“Let me leave Ana a note in case she comes home.”

His leg and hip brushed mine as he tried to pass me. I felt a sensation of heat rush through my body. He stopped and turned around. His hand reached out to mine and he pulled me towards him. He enveloped me in his arms as his lips found mine, tasting me with warm wet kisses that made me tremble with a desire I had never felt before.

“Anthony, I…” I tried to tell him I had never done this before, but I couldn’t think of anything but wanting him.

“Chase, do you want me to take you home? Tell me now.”

“Kiss me again… please…” I whispered.

His mouth enveloped mine again. His hands pressed against my back, then slowly slipped down my body until they slipped into the back pockets of my shorts. His strong arms pressed my body closely to his. I was thrilled by his touch, but frightened by the intensity of the moment.

He pushed me back onto the couch, and his kisses were so intense and so sweet I thought I could not resist him. But when his hand slipped between my legs and touched me, I grabbed his hand and tried to sit up.

“Anthony, I…” I hesitated. “Anthony…”

“Chase? What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to… to… you know.”

“Anthony… I, ohhh.” My voice lowered to a whisper. “Anthony, I haven’t ever done this before.”

I didn’t say anything else for a moment. I opened my eyes to find his beautiful amber eyes watching my face. His eyes were sweet, so gentle looking.

“Chase? You are a virgin?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

His lips touched mine again. Then his gentle voice. “Chase, do you… want to go all the way with me? I want you, but if you haven’t ever… Chase, please be sure.”

“Anthony. I don’t know. I don’t want you to stop, but… I am… scared.”

His eyes closed and he sighed deeply. “I am not going to be your first experience unless you are very sure. There is time. I do know that I want to see you again.”

He kissed me again. “Let’s go back to your dorm. Tonight isn’t the night.” He stood and pulled me up from the couch. “Come on.”

“Anthony, I…”

“Hush,” he whispered, then kissed me again.

We walked back to my dorm. We didn’t speak, but he held my hand, and pulled me into the shadows several times to give me a deep thrilling kiss. No boy I had dated in high school had ever kissed me this way.

He walked me to the door of the suite of rooms I lived in. He took me in his arms and gave me another breath-taking kiss. “I will call you. Have dinner with me tomorrow. Please?”

“Yes, I would love to.”

We had a difficult time letting go of each other, but finally I whispered, “good night,” and turned to enter my dorm suite. I was afraid to look back, because I didn’t want this night to end. I sighed as I started to unlock the door of my room. As I slipped the key into the door, I heard a giggle, and a muffled, “shit!”

“Kay?” I asked.

Her voice answered. “Chase? I didn’t think you would be back tonight. Hold on.”

I realized she had someone with her, and said, “No, Kay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I didn’t wait to hear her response, and raced back onto the balcony. “Anthony?” I called, hoping he hadn’t gone far. “Anthony?”

A head appeared from the stairwell. “What’s wrong?” His deep voice echoed in the enclosed space.

“Umm, this is embarrassing, but would you let me sleep on your couch? Kay… um, oh…” I stammered, not knowing quite what to say.

“Kay has company?” He laughed a little, then said, “sure, c’mon, let’s go.”

He grabbed my hand and walked me back to his apartment. He unlocked the apartment door and we walked in. His cousin still wasn’t there. I tried to help Anthony find some sheets. Our hands, our bodies brushed against each other several times, and I found myself hoping he would take me into his arms again. We finished with the sheets, and he said, “good night, Chase. I’ve had a wonderful evening with you.”

His warm lips brushed against mine. His tongue tasted my lips, and his pulled me to him, I could feel the moistness of his skin where his body touched mine. As he kissed me, I knew I didn’t want to spend this night on his couch alone.

“Anthony…” I whispered, as he kissed my ear, my neck. His tongue slowly slipped down my chest, following the line of the shirt I wore. “I am sure that I want you to… to… tonight.”

“Chase,” his deep husky voice replied, “you are absolutely sure?”

“Yes.”

He picked me up and carried me to his bedroom. He lowered me onto his bed, then slipped in beside me. He kissed my face, my neck, then my breasts as he carefully removed my clothes. I could only see a little of his face, shiny with sweat, visible in the bright moonlight shining through his bedroom window. He slipped off his shirt, and as he kissed me, my hands felt his chest, my fingers traced across his muscular body, and fumbled with the button and zipper of his pants.

He made love to me. He was so gentle and so exciting. He took my body places I had no idea I could go. Afterwards, we slept, his arm under my neck, and my arm and leg draped over his body. I don’t think I had ever felt so relaxed or so happy.

I awoke the next morning and realized the sun was well up in the sky. I rolled over away from Anthony, only to discover a poster of Che on his wall. I sat up in the bed, with a huge intake of breath. Anthony sat up when he heard me.

“What’s wrong, Chase?”

“I can’t believe the first time I ever made love it was under a poster of my father!” I blurted out. My hand shot to my mouth. Oh, Anthony was going to think I was a nut.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

“No, you said something about a poster of your father.”

“Che is my father, ok? I know you won’t believe it, but that is what my mother told me. She met him a long time ago, and they were lovers.”

Anthony’s face told me he didn’t believe me. He got up and went into the bathroom. I stared at the poster, and wished I had kept my mouth shut. I put my clothes on and got ready to leave. I felt awful. I knew Anthony must think I was crazy. Last night had been so special, and now I had ruined it. I tried not to cry. He came out the bathroom and started dressing.

“I better walk you back to your dorm, Chase.”

“Anthony, I…”

“I don’t understand why you would say a thing like that. Did you think that I would be impressed with such a tale? Because I am Cuban, and I have his poster on my wall? How long did it take to dream that one up? What other stories did you tell? Going to go back and tell your friends about your Latino conquest? Did you think I only wanted to get into your pants?”

“That is what you wanted, isn’t it! I guess you got it, didn’t you! It is not a story! Look, you can choose to not believe it, but it is what my mother told me. I believed you were a sweet caring guy when I agreed to stay here last night. And I wouldn’t lie about something like this. And I am Latina, remember. I don’t think I need your help to get home. Just leave me alone!”

I ran out his apartment, slamming the door as I heard his voice calling “Chase.”

I walked as fast as I could. My face was hot with my tears. I had gone to bed with this man, and he actually thought I would lie to him. I got back to my dorm room. I was glad that Kay wasn’t there. I felt so miserable, and just a few short hours before I had felt so wonderful. I listened to the stereo all day as I stared out the window. Anthony never called.

That night I talked to my mother on the phone, but I didn’t mention Anthony. I was embarrassed by how foolish I had been. She was excited about being a guest lecturer for a political science class. I wasn’t taking the class, but I wanted to hear her speak about her days as a reporter in South America. She was unsure where the lecture hall was, so I arranged to meet her and I would sit in if there were enough seats. I spent all day Sunday watching it rain.

Monday arrived and I met my mother. We arrived at the lecture hall a little early, and she introduced herself to the professor who’d invited her to speak. I slipped into a back row seat and watched as the other students began to file in. A few minutes before the class was to begin, I saw Anthony enter the room. I slid down in my seat, hoping he wouldn’t notice me, but it was if his eyes were searching for me. He looked at me, staring. I looked away first. When I looked back, he had taken a seat. I glared at the back of his head.

My mother was introduced and she gave a mesmerizing speech about her days as a reporter. She talked about the famous people she had seen and met, and interviewed. She described the riots in Buenos Aires, in the early fifties. She said, “this was my first interview with Che Guevera, although no one knew anything about him at the time. He showed me the horrid conditions of the people. I interviewed him several times over those years. The last interview was in Cuba during the revolution. He talked to me about why he participated, why it was so important to him. I was investigated by the CIA after that interview, and never got the chance to talk to Che again.”

Tears came to my eyes as she talked about him, because I knew what he meant to her. I was staring a hole in the back of Anthony’s head. I hoped he could feel my eyes on him. My mother concluded her speech with a description of her most recent interview, with Fidel Castro, and the ongoing search to recover Che Guevera’s remains so they could be moved to Cuba. She answered some questions from the audience and the class concluded with a round of applause.

I was very proud of her as I watched the crowd surrounding her to ask more questions. Then I saw Anthony talking to her. I could only imagine what he was saying. I stood up and slipped out of the room. My mother was to have lunch with the professor afterwards, and I had a class soon. As I walked away, I heard a deep husky voice behind me.

“Chase? Chase, wait a minute.”

I stopped and turned around. Anthony hurried to catch up with me.

“Chase, I owe you an apology. When I saw you this morning I wondered why you were there, but when I saw the guest lecturer, I thought she had to be your mother. You resemble her so much, and when I heard her name, I knew. I shouldn’t have doubted you when you told me who your father was. I’m sorry.”

“What did you do, ask my mother about it?” I was still angry with him. “Did you tell her you slept with me, and then I told you some crazy story about the identity of my father?” I started to walk away.

“Chase. Look, I said I’m sorry. What else do you want me to say? I didn’t want you to run off that way the other morning. I do still want to see you again. And I do believe Che was your father. Chase, when your mother was talking about him, I could tell she had known him well. Then I realized her little pet name for you is “Che’s”, not Chase. And I knew I owed you an apology. I am sorry.”

He turned to walk away.

“Anthony, wait!” I caught up with him. “It’s ok. I know it is hard to believe.” I wanted more than anything to feel his lips on mine again, to feel his touch on my body again. “Anthony, I am sorry too, I said some mean things, too. Will you forgive me?”

His amber eyes looked into mine. He smiled a little. “Apology accepted.” He dropped his book bag, and wrapped his arms around me. He kissed me, just a gentle brush of his lips over mine. “Now let’s get some lunch, I want to talk you into going to Nicaragua with me this summer.”

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