Lorenzo, the homeless man who comes weekly to clean and repair things in my home-stay house, has become my good friend, or as I'd like to say boy friend. Never mind that he is an over 50, overweight, alcoholic immigrant from the Dominican Republic. My parents will understand after they hear of this prince's tales.
A month ago, he came by to give me a plant. I didn't ask questions, I just thought "Hey that's thoughtful."
Then for my birthday, a box of chocolates. "Okay, another nice gesture, and so sweet that he coughed up money that he doesn't have."
Last week, it was a used bike, so out of shocking curiosity I had to ask, "So, Lorenzo, where did you come across a cheap used bike for me?" He told me that he observed another drunkard park it and head into a bar for some drinks and when he came out, he hopped on the bike next to the one he rode in on. Lorenzo figured the original bike, likely stolen, was up for grabs. So it was a twice stolen bike. Not bad, but I had to refuse seeing as I have no storage space in this crowded island metropolis. He seemed to understand my personal reasons for not accepting.
So he came around with gardening trinkets a few days ago and we got to talking more intimately about his family, 6 children from multiple women, and his own upbringing between different mothers and without a dad. He taught me a few things about carpentry and house work, he has a vast skill set in being crafty. We bonded over coffee (I take mine with soy milk, his with whiskey) while he puffed on his intricately hand rolled cigarettes and I asked him if he wanted to top off the afternoon with some chocolate from the cupboard. He said he doesn't care for sweets, and my Spanish madre hollered in from her lounge chair in the tv room that it's because he's an alcoholic. I declared liking both alcohol and sweets to prove that I am not an alcoholic and left the house to run errands.
Today, I came home from school and there was a wrapped gift on the counter with a note "on behalf of Lorenzo". A fat chocolate cigar. A combination of his vices and mine.
You think we'll get married?