Morning Star's Child

MORNING STAR’S

CHILD

A NOVEL

JOSÉRAMON AGUILAR F.

© Copyright 2007 by Joséramon Aguilar F.

Cover Artwork by Patricia Aguilar

Edited by Sami Gutierrez

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Note for Librarians: A cataloguing record for this book is available from Library and Archives Canada at www.collectionscanada.ca/amicus/index-e.html

ISBN 1-4251-2108-X

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE

BEAUTIFUL BOY

CHAPTER TWO

FIRENZE

CHAPTER THREE

AN ANGEL IN FLORENCE

CHAPTER FOUR

THE EIGHTH CYCLE’S PROPHESY

CHAPTER FIVE

KEVIN LIES TO HIS BESTFRIEND

CHAPTER SIX

KEVIN GOES ON A DATE

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE MEETING OF TWO SOULS

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE BLOOD PACT

CHAPTER NINE

KEVIN LOOSES HIS FATHER

CHAPTER TEN

KEVIN HAS SEX WITH JENNY’S INTERIOR DECORATOR

CHAPTER ELEVEN

OH! MY SOUL SO WEARY

CHAPTER TWELVE

A NIGHT LOADED WITH OMENS

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE BATTLE BETWEEN VENUS’S CHILDREN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

HATE

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE MEANING OF FRIENDSHIP

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE ILLEGAL ALIEN AND THE PATROLMAN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A DIRTY LITTLE BOY

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE RIVER, WILD

CHAPTER NINETEEN

OBSCURE DESTINIES

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE PRIEST AT HOTEL NELSON

TWENTY-ONE

THE END OF SUMMER

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

THE MEXICAN CAMP

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

KEVIN LEAVES SAN FRANCISCO

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE RAID

CHAPTER TWENTY- FIVE

EDDIE END THE PRICE HE PAID

CHAPTER TWENTY- SIX

THE EIGHTH CYCLES BEGIN

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

AN EMPTY SOUL DYING

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

KEVIN WRITES HIS FATHER A LETTER

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

MEASURED TIME

CHAPTER THIRTY

THE PASSAGE OF THE SOULS

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

THE JOINING OF TWO SOULS

For Ricky Lindsey

And

For Danny Dial

With enduring love,

until we see each other again

I would also like to acknowledge

my editor Sami Gutierrez

for her invaluable guidance:

and my sister Patricia

for her artistic talent and

beautiful cover picture and

for always being there for me.

The author extends his thanks to Ernest Mendieta, and Hernan Gomez for their invaluable help and encouragement.

Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up little habits, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go around, or scramble over obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.

Constance Chatterley

Lady Chatterley’s Lover

CHAPTER ONE

BEAUTIFUL BOY

When I was one-and-twenty

I heard a wise man say,

`Give crowns and pounds and guineas

But not your heart away;

Give pearls away and rubies

But keep your fancy free.’

But I was one-and-twenty

No use to talk to me.

When I was one-and-twenty

I heard him say again,

‘the heart out of the bosom

Was never given in vain;

‘Tis paid with sighs a plenty

And sold for endless rue.’

And I am two-and-twenty

And oh, ‘tis true, ‘tis true.

A.E. HOUSMAN

When I Was One-and-Twenty, XIII

The old train rushed north across the countryside toward Florence, leaving the hot baked city of Rome behind them. The Vatican had freaked him out with all of the tombs inside St. Peter’s Basilica. Rome was a city with incomparable beauty and the Coliseum and many museums had fascinated him. The Roman Forum and the Plaza Venezia had delighted him somewhat, but what Garner had especially enjoyed, was seeing the famous Roman statue of The Dying Gaul in the Capitolini Museum. The wounded Gaul, in his last moments of life had really moved him. As Garner looked at the figure of the Celtic warrior lying upon the earth awaiting death, he shed a tear.

But his favorite place in the Eternal City had been the Termini train station. He and his friend Marcello had slept at the station for an entire week in order to save money. They had been running low on funds and still wanted to go to Florence and see Michelangelo’s David. They slept on the benches and befriended the gypsies who gathered at the station everyday to beg for money. Garner enjoyed sitting on the floor of the train station, watching as people from all over the world interacted with one another. He had enjoyed watching the old Italian trains stop and go, since trains had been his favorite toys as a young boy, to him it was a fascinating sight. Having grown up in Chicago he enjoyed seeing trains, but European passenger trains like the one’s here at Termini were new to him. He looked at Marcello sleeping on the top bunk bed and smiled.

Suddenly he remembered the old woman he met at Termini and the smile disappeared from his face. She was old, as old as Rome itself, but she had been friendly. She had read him her tarot cards but refused to read his palm or take his money. He told Marcello about her and he just laughed, but her words had struck him like a bad fever.

There you go again with tarot cards, fortune tellers and the stars. It is nothing more than ignorant superstition. There is absolutely no connection between what has or will happen in your life and what these fools tell you.

No really I believe they can fashion the future.

I know you do little brother. Where do you learn these things you say? Marcello gazed at Garner with affectionate puzzlement.

She spoke a little English and she told me about the fight I had with dad. She said he would never forgive me. What I don’t get is why she told me I was religious. I gave up going to church years ago. Going to St. Peters was the first time I stepped into a church since I was ten.

I really feel bad about what happened with your father but religious devotion doesn’t mean going to church silly boy. You are a very spiritual man. You have always embraced religion, from Jesus to Buddha’s teachings. I think that must have been what she meant, but you can never put too much faith in what an old gypsy tells you.

Don’t blame yourself for what happened. Dad is a just a dick. When the fortune teller tried to read my palm she was serious. She was so nervous, her fingers trembled and she could barely hold my hand, do you know what she said to me?

Pouvre bello ragazzo and she gave me my money back. I tried to give it back to her but she wouldn’t take it.

Now that is strange, a gypsy not taking someone’s money! Don’t you worry your pretty little heart it was nonsense.

You can’t ignore magic. It is everywhere around us.

You know that I am not a believer. I believe reason to be…well, more powerful than magic.

It was freaky though. What does pouvre bello ragazzo mean?

Forget about it. You give too much importance to those things.

No really! Tell me. She freaked me out, Garner looked back at the old gypsy. She looked down at the floor when she saw him staring at her.

Forget about it little brother.

He had looked-up the word pouvre and it meant poor, she had said, poor beautiful boy, he was sure of that. The old gypsy had pitied him and it had made him wonder what she had seen.

Garner had met Marcello, a foreign student, in one of his creative writing courses, his second year of college. Marcello was 23, and to the naïve 21-year-old that Garner was, he seemed worldly. Garner didn’t have too many friends back then, so he was surprised and excited when Marcello had approached him and suggested they go see a Fellini movie. The mere thought of being alone with Marcello, the teacher’s assistant from his writing class, made him dizzy with excitement. He was a handsome, muscular Italian, with long thick black hair and with warm brown eyes. He had a beautiful accent when he spoke English.

Marcello had immediately been smitten by Garner’s charms. It had been Garner’s smile that got to him first, it seemed to appear out of nowhere. His soft boyish lips tended to capture one’s heart. His face still had the softness of boyhood and his eyes were bright, green and a little wild. Garner was beautiful and friendly and in Rhode Island Marcello, like Garner, had not made too many friends. In spite of their difference in age, the fact that Marcello was older than Garner didn’t seem to make any difference in the world. They just felt comfortable with one another and their friendship instantly grew close.

They were both studying Creative Literature and Marcello would help Garner with his first writing assignments. They both dreamt of becoming famous novel writers in the future. As their bond grew they saw each other more like brothers. It was now summer and Marcello had invited Garner to visit his homeland for summer break. Garner jumped at the opportunity to visit Europe for the first time.

Outside the blue sky was cloudless as Garner stood along the corridor of the old train watching the landscape pass before his eyes. He could hear Marcello snoring lightly as he slept on the top bunk of their coach room. He gazed with amazement at the rugged mountain side and its numerous white villages so rich in history. It had taken him a whole semester of washing dishes at the school cafeteria to save enough money for this trip, but he was glad he had come. Marcello had become the big brother he never had and he was grateful to have such unconditional love. He suddenly felt hungry but decided to wait until Marcello woke up to eat the Paninis he had purchased at the Termini Station the day before.

Buon giorno, the train attendant said, as he squeezed past Garner.

Buon giorno, signore, Garner smiled and the attendant stopped to look at him. They were standing so close together that Garner could feel the other man’s warm breath upon his face. He had dark eyebrows and a beautiful lean face, thick wavy black hair that poured out of his blue cap. The rest of his blue uniform fit tightly against his slim form. Garner couldn’t help but notice the erection inside the man’s pants. He appeared to be not much older than Garner himself.

Acqua minerale per te, mineral water for you, the attendant said.

Quanto lire per la acqua, signore? How many Lire for the water? Garner asked nervously.

Niente per te, bello ragazzo. Mi chiamo Fabrizio, nothing for you beautiful boy, my name is Fabrizio, the attendant said.

Nice to meet you Fabrizio, I’m Garner.

I never heard of such name, Fabrizio said.

It’s not very common. Thank you for the water.

Niente, niente, Fabrizio brushed past him,Tu di dov’e sei?

‘Dov’e means from where,’ Garner thought. Sono dagli Stati Uniti, from the United States Garner said.

Ah America!

Si, Chicago.

Chicago e bella citta, beautiful city, Fabrizio said, I sono di Firenze.

Ah you are from Florence, good, good, Garner said smiling.

Ciao bello ragazzo di Chicago, see you later beautiful boy from Chicago Fabrizio said. Garner smiled back and watched him continue down the corridor. ‘Did he call him bello ragazzo?’ Garner wondered why the young man had referred to him that way. I will ask Marcello if that was what the attendant really said. Garner like any lust-laden teen with a hormonal overload wondered and fantasized about Fabrizio’s body language, Mille grazie for the water, he said.

Prego, your welcome, Fabrizio said and turned around and smiled.

Are you staying out of trouble? Marcello asked from the bunk bed.

You’re awake, Garner seemed nervous. He felt like he had done something wrong but couldn’t understand why.

Si, bello ragazzo, Marcello said teasing.

Does that mean beautiful boy?

You should have studied Italian. The attendant is trying to pick you up little brother and you didn’t even realize it. And yes that is what it means.

You think?

He could hear Mauricio laughing. Go to his room and have some fun. He is very cute. I tried to get his attention earlier when we boarded the train, but he only had eyes for you. We still have a couple of hours until we get to Bologna and have to change trains to Florence.

Why does everyone keep calling me bello ragazzo?

Could it be because you are blessed with beauty? You are the most beautiful boy that people have seen? The gods must have been smiling when they made you.

Be serious.

Let’s just leave it at that and go have some fun.

I can’t just show up in his coach room.

Sure you can and give me some of that water, Marcello said laughing.

CHAPTER TWO

FIRENZE

To be spiritual means that we must open our minds and examine the spiritual dimensions of our existence, whether it is by following the teachings of Jesus, Buddha, Confucius or many other teachers that exist or have existed in our world. As a spiritual man we must be open to examine the many events that occur in our lives that we might otherwise consider accidents. Suddenly these occurrences become important and noteworthy. We are unable to reject them without giving them serious consideration or be dismissive of these events.

A casual meeting with a certain person might not be casual at all and might become more meaningful than we had anticipated. Therefore we should be willing to open our hearts and consider everyone that comes in contact with ourselves and never close our hearts before examining their spiritual dimensions and the connections they might have with our lives.

We cannot deny that touching someone’s life at a deeper level is evidence of a divine force actively involved in our lives. We are not born in this life merely by accident, playing out a meaningless existence. If we were just an accident we would be no better than a chicken or a duck. Our lives have a purpose, and a sense of destiny. The secret lies in finding that destiny, in finding that unique soul that exists to make us whole. The difficult task is finding that unique soul among so many souls that will cross our lives.

And in this search to complete ourselves we seem to be guided forward by a mysterious providence or divine intervention. We live in concert with the divine and seem to be guided forward by doings of the gods themselves.

Divine Intervention

From Passage of Souls

By Kevin Garner McCulloum

Garner stared out the window; the landscape had changed very little, hills and vineyards, medieval towns with discolored houses with old roofs with red tiles.

Stop daydreaming about your Italian Romeo. We are almost there. Help me bring down our backpacks, Marcello said.

I wasn’t. I was thinking about how one day we are going to write about this experience.

The train was coming to a halt at the station in Florence. On their way out they ran into Fabrizio. Marcello nodded. Ciao, Garner said revealing his disarming smile.

Ciao bello, the attendant said, returning the smile.

Arrivederci.

Aspetti un momento! wait a second Fabrizio said. He hopped back into the train. He returned promptly with two bottles of water.

Mille Grazie Fabrizio, Garner gave him a long warm embrace.

Grazie, Marcello said.

You must have really given it to him this morning, Marcello said teasing.

Non ho fatto niente, I didn’t due anything, Garner replied defensively.

Your Italian suddenly got better.

Non e vero, It is not true Garner said.

You don’t have to tell, Marcello laughed.

I want a lawyer, Garner blushed as he stretched.

You don’t need to explain yourself. I fell pray to that killer smile of yours too the first semester of college, remember?

How can I forget, Garner rolled his eyes.

You can’t help yourself little brother. Fate is a particularly kind mistress to you this summer.

Yeah, I get pretty horny. What else is there to do when you get a boner, Garner was grinning. It is a gift of the gods that you are here.

Marcello sighed, gave a heavenward roll of his eyes, now I’m your little bitch. Come on let’s get some ice cream. They ran laughing toward the gelato stand.

Wait for me here with the bags while I find out where we can get a hotel.

I’ll be here I promise.

Minutes later Marcello came back with two gelatos and found Garner sitting on the floor playing with some gypsies, Mama mia! I can’t leave you alone for a second because you start talking to strangers.

Every person has a story to tell, he said and got up and waved goodbye to his newly found friends. The old gypsy looked at him with sadness. He ran back and offered her his ice cream cone and she hesitantly took it as the two boys walked toward the exit of the train station.

See that old woman sitting over there, the one I gave the ice cream cone to, Garner asked Marcello.

Who do you mean, the decrepit old hag sitting on the ground?

Be nice, she is a fortune teller.

They all are little brother. You seem to gravitate toward Gypsy fortune tellers.

I gave her 1000 lire and she read me the tarot cards. She told me that the morning star affects all aspects of my life which is the planet Venus.

I know what the morning star is.

Anyway, she said that I’m a loving boy with deep religious devotion and that I have great capacity for brotherly love. She also said that romantic love would be elusive in my life until the end of my days.

Don’t listen to her little brother and stay away from fortune tellers. I found a convent that rents rooms to young people for 3,900 liras a night.

Wow isn’t that like four dollars.

We can stay there. It is very clean.

Wow dude! a convent sounds really interesting, I guess it’s better than the train station. I once considered becoming a priest. I wonder what my dad’s reaction would be if I did.

It would kill him for sure.

Yeah, he wouldn’t like that.

I’m really sorry about what happened with your dad.

Please stop blaming yourself for what happened. It wasn’t your fault. I told you that a thousand times. He’ll come around. I bet when we get back home he will have forgotten all about it. But I really did fantasize about becoming a priest.

You are too horny to be a priest and they don’t live in convents, nuns do.

I know that. I’m not a complete idiot.

They came to a narrow street with lots of terraces. The convent was two levels and was squeezed between a church and a government building. Marcello knocked on the weathered wooden doors that once ago had been painted yellow. A nun pushed the heavy doors open. Buon Giorno, do you have rooms available? he asked a very serious nun who answered the call. They spoke to each other in Italian rapidly as Garner lost interest in the conversation. The nun took a sharp deep breath, and said Enter, as she signaled them to come in. The dark office was small and smelled of old age. Il passaporto.

Garner, your passport, she wants it.

Garner pulled it out of his pocket, Here it is, he smiled at the serious nun but she didn’t smile back. As he entered the building he noticed inside the walls were white with long silent hallway. The whole place was like that, quiet and cold. On the white walls were pictures of Saints, Jesus and the Virgin Mary dressed in a blue gown. Wow. My dad would have a field day marveling at these paintings. They must be very old and valuable.

I’m sure they are, Marcello seemed unimpressed.

They are morbid though. Where are the nuns?

Lower your voice.

Sorry, but where are they?

They live in the other wing of the building.

Can we have sex here?

Really Kevin, is that all you can think about?

Oh like you haven’t.

Let’s go to our rooms and clean up. I’m a little tired. We can rest a little before going out.

This place is spooky, so quiet.

It is cheap little brother and clean, Marcello said as they walked the vast hall. A flickering light bulb hanging from the ceiling caused their shadows to dance wildly upon the white walls.

Kevin was too wind up. He could not relax and take a nap but he enjoyed watching Marcello sleep. His soft snoring was soothing and had a calming effect on him. He liked watching Marcello’s naked body cuddle against him for warmth and safety.

CHAPTER THREE

AN