Dearest Chef

"You are gay". The accusatory and at the same time mocking tone of Franco, in my opinion is not at all funny. However, I smirk, wave a hand and flick my eyelashes flirtatiously, leaving him both puzzled and confused. Surely he was not expecting it. "I used to be, but that hurts a lot," I shrug, making an awkward grimace. Beside me, Carlson laughs loudly. "I do not recommend it, hemorrhoids begin to bother after a while". My colleague purses her lips in an attempt to contain herself, although it doesn't seem to be working very well. I'm about to roll my eyes in annoyance but I just raise an eyebrow in his direction, which is enough for me to look away so as not to burst out laughing. Franco looks alternately at me and Carlson and scratches his head in confusion. Inside I boil with rage because it occurred to him to insinuate something as absurd as that. Didn't going from girl to girl always have to mean he was hitting for the other team? Franco Cooper is an idiot, I knew that well and most of the coworkers with whom he frequented on the cruise. An inveterate womanizer who surely would have a sexually transmitted disease, the product of his wild nights with those prostitutes who, above all, had stupid names of jewels. I roll my eyes and shake my head when I see that the joke is completely swallowed. It seems to look at me with aversion and the truth is, I don't care about a sovereign peanut.  Damn him, I don't feel like going on with this conversation. Carlson returns to his serious and professional attitude (although it may not seem so at times) and immediately shows his feelings, knowing well the reason for my pedantic attitude, which frankly I do not interested in hide. "Don't be a bastard, Franco," she blurts out annoyed, staring at him wryly. "Do you really think Peter has a happy ass just because he's not a fucker like you?"  "Well, I ..." He scratches the back of his neck, which is soon hit by Steven, one of the kitchen assistants on the acclaimed cruise ship. "Hears! Why do you hit me?" "Maybe you're the effeminate here," he laughs out loud, quickly tucking him under his arm. I roll my eyes and get up from the spot, completely turning my back on them. "Did you want to see if Peter was available to you, bitch?" Franco continues to complain like an annoying little girl and I direct my steps to the exit without even looking back.  The sea breeze hits my face as soon as I open the door that leads to the deck of the ship. I feel footsteps behind me and I'm about to turn to tell my co-worker in a bad way that I don't need him to follow me around like a damn lapdog. "Want one?" He offers a cigarette and I immediately shake my head. "Come on brother, you need to relax. Don't be a fag". I give him a bored look and he smirks like a damn insane. I could screw him over and be left alone with my thoughts, but he was already there and I knew it was harder to kick him than to throw me overboard. I let out a sigh and take the next cigarette in his hand, immediately lighting the tip with the lighter he offers me. I take a deep drag on him and release the smoke looking at the sky.  In a few days I would return home and the truth was not encouraging for me. Thinking about my brother put me in a good mood but not with all the thoughts that invaded me from time to time and only made me feel uneasy. "Don't listen to Franco, is an idiot," he says in a harsh voice, shaking his head reprovingly. "He has no fucking idea what life is".  "Almost no one has," I shrug scornfully, because that was a truth I had understood at an early age. "Let him think what he likes, I don't have to prove anything to anyone". I take another drag on my cigarette, thinking about the pending conversion I had with Evan. Although he had made sure not to get involved with this Leilah anymore, I had not seen him fully convinced and that had me worried. I knew that something else was happening, something else that I didn't want to tell myself and that made me angry in a way. Weren't we brothers? Evan had always had the confidence to tell me anything, including his adventures. It seems that now I look like a jealous psychopath and frankly in a way I was.  It had always been him and me, he had never been seriously involved with a woman and I ... well, I was not with any of them at all, simply because I am not interested.  At least most of the time. What sounds like a fag? Yes, but I care a shit. I have my tastes defined, I do not want complications in my life and I could have an occasional adventure if I wanted to, without ties of any kind and without having to walk from woman to woman every day as if it were a sex machine. I'm not a fag, just my private life was just that: private. That my brother messed with his student, it seemed to me the worst idea that could have occurred to him and immediately I had expressed my discontent, which I had disdained, much to my chagrin and bewilderment. "What makes you so thoughtful?" Carlson says, nudging me, I roll my eyes and he laughs. "Does a girl have you nostalgic?"  I snort because I was precisely talking about that, because I have to admit that I felt like I shouldn't get involved with a girl like that And now he brings up the damn topic, as if he wanted to live that fucking situation that nothing good could bring me. I stick my middle finger at him and the fucker smiles in amusement, knowing clearly that that was so likely like a meteorite falling right now on the ship. "No girl has ever managed to put me that way," I raise an eyebrow smugly, satisfied with that fact, "and believe me, there isn't one who can." "Maybe he's in another country, didn't you think of it?" Carlson throws something into the water that I can't see and then clicks his tongue. "Maybe you don't know her yet, man." "And I hope I don't know her," he smirked, this time playing along. My colleague looks at me with a funny face. For what? Women are just good entertainment! Having one for a while is fine, but something serious ... –I shudder from head to toe–, "it's not going with me, it's not going to happen." "One day a girl is going to get your attention that way," he points a finger at me, "and that day you'll have to bite your tongue and stick it in your as... Hey!" I hit his arm fed up with his spiel and his stupid words of "one day find the girl" that frankly already bored me.  Was it very difficult to understand that I'm not looking for that at all?  I do not know a person who did not suffer from a relationship, who did not have to sacrifice their own happiness and comfort for a third party who sometimes did not even appreciate such a gesture. No, he was not born for such relationships and that was why I had been accused of being gay more than once. Who says I can't be a lone wolf without wanting to tie myself to an annoying woman who would surely only be a nuisance in my peaceful life? "You are a damn cretin," I snort after cracking a mischievous smile, seeing that I had seriously hurt him. "I already told you that all that stuff the holding hands and calling a girl, walking behind just for being an idiot does not go with me." Carlson shakes his head in discontent but says nothing more.  I know what he thinks; that one day a “different” girl will arrive who will support my way of being, who will be like a saint or something like that and that I would be drooling and seeing lights in the sky for her.  I almost burst out laughing at that fact, but a grimace from my colleague makes me frown. I look at him curiously and he sighs long, I immediately wonder what his sudden change of mood is due to. "What happens?" I ask directly, after taking another puff on the cigarette. "Now the nostalgic seems to be other." Carlson purses his lips and I immediately wince, imagining what it's all about and huffing at not being able to escape something that was partly my fault for having accepted.  The consequences of bad decisions is something that sometimes reverberates for too long.  "She asked about you again, Peter." His voice falters and I grit my teeth in frustration. "I told her…" "That I died?" I blurt with irony, imposing a sullen tone that comes out to me when I talk about that topic. "I already told you that I don't want to know if she asks about me or if she dropped a damn nail, Carl." —Hey, friend… I know it's partly my fault too, but she really needs you He puts a hand on my shoulder, which I shake immediately. "Maybe if you see her one more time …" "You're not being a friend right now, Carl," I roll my eyes, tossing the cigarette out to sea. I am completely frustrated. "I don't want to have anything more to do with her, getting involved in that world of shit was nothing of benefit to me and on top of that, saying that she is in love now, it only makes matters worse." "I know you don't want her and you never will, Peter," Carlson snorts, shaking his head. But she is not well at all, she says that your presence will be the only remedy she needs to get out of all that gloom she is involved in. "I am not a fucking remedy, I am not the cure for anything or anyone." As I speak, anger begins to invade my system, but also fear and worry. "I didn't want to get involved like that and you know it, Carl!" "I already know it!" He exclaims desperately, trying to grab hold of me. I pull back immediately as if his hands are burning. "Peter, I didn't know it would be in this way…" "All because of your stupid challenges and I'm an idiot to accept," I mutter, feeling my anger diminish. "But it is not your fault at all, I accepted in part for being emboldened by alcohol and for believing myself more rude than anyone." "I know we are both guilty, but the matter is more tricky now than I thought." He grimaces, seems unhappy with what he will tell me. She told me that Evan could find out and that you should be careful, because they were able to get away with it if you didn't do what they said. "Did they dare threaten me?!" I snap in a bad mood, kicking at the nearby chair. "Let them kill me if that pleases them, but I'm not going to fall for their fucking provocations!"  I'm out of myself If Evan ever found out … I shake my head, because that probability, besides causing me discomfort, scares me.  My brother would not approve of my stupidity and I blame myself every day. I had paid everything they wanted and they had been satisfied for a while. Why the hell did they bother my life like this again?  "Damn it, I won't let them come with their damn poison to mortify me, much less Evan!" I feel my blood boil and right now all what I want is to take a gun and pierce their bodies leaving them like a strainer. Carlson looks at me with concern, perhaps understanding what is going through my mind. "If they want to play rough, fine; but stick to the consequences then." Carlson says nothing, but his eyes reflect everything. He had also been a part of his game and still was, but I had decided to abandon them entirely.  Although as I said before: the consequences sometimes reverberate for too long. Now I don't know how I will get out of the hole where I had made bury by myself. "What shall I say to Jasmine?" My colleague asks in a low tone, swallowing with concern. "Well this time tell her she's messed with the wrong person," I snap, clenching my fists at my sides. "And that she can go straight to hell!" I turn around and walk away, feeling my hands tremble and my eyes burn. I have to get away from all that garbage again and the only reason I keep standing is to keep going for my brother; despite that dark part of my life that Evan himself doesn't even know, and hope he never will. What sounds hypocritical that I want to know about his secrets when I had not revealed mine? It's true, but no one can know in all the trouble that I had been involved in listening to my coworker, for one of those damn "charming nights" where I believed myself to be the most invincible being in the world. I shake my head in frustration because I just want to breathe again, I just want to get out of that nightmare that haunts me unceremoniously, like the fucking game of cat and mouse. I just want to live in peace again.