Yelena Moskovich - The Natashas

César tried to bring Manny to life alongside these past characters, but Manny kept pushing away, standing to the side. He was starting to see it. Manny was different.

All his life, César had never doubted that he was an actor. He was sure of it the way he was sure he desired men even before he had ever kissed one. Although he hadn’t ever landed a professional acting role, he had always thought of his childhood impersonations and his years at the acting school as a lifetime of acting experience. Throughout those years, he felt there was no particular rush for a full-fledged career. He was content to be an actor , to find ways to practise this daily, even if no one else saw. All he wanted was to live as an actor, acting.

But as he contemplated Manny, he started to see that he had long outgrown these characters of his past. They were mere sketches, catchphrases, and anecdotes. At the acting school, all his work was caricatured, no matter how hard César had tried to give it depth. Whenever César had expressed to his teacher that he’d like to work on a “serious role”, his teacher would lift his hand by his wrist and gesture a limp infinity sign.

“All roles are serious roles,” the teacher would say as if he were speaking Latin.

César agreed in theory, but saw clearly in practise that his roles were always the gimmicky part of the scene, and any effort to give these roles sincerity was discouraged.

“César, are you trying to make a mess of these characters on purpose?” his teacher had once scolded him.

“I’m just trying to give them a soul…” César replied self-consciously.

“Well… looks like they don’t want anything to do with your soul…” The teacher smiled, then looked back at his other students. Some of them laughed, and he felt rewarded.

When he saw the teacher in private and tried to explain more precisely his ambitions, the teacher recited other theoretically impenetrable phrases, then looked at César as if he were in the way of who he was really trying to look at. No matter what César said, he could not break through these universal truths of the profession . The more he responded to his teacher’s definitive statements, the more the teacher grew irritated that this student couldn’t accept his higher wisdom.

César pulled the pen out of his mouth and its ballpoint touched the dry, white paper. As the black ink bled the first dot on to the page, he began to walk into Manny’s life. He scribbled memories, familial disputes, spans of solitude, intimate moments. He sketched Manny’s world, how he saw it, how he absorbed it, how he became a part of it. He sneaked around Manny’s childhood and grew up with him. He stood by Manny as he threw his fits. He withdrew with him into his teenage years. He sat in back on his Honda motorcycle and held on tight as they raced down Mexican Federal Highway 1 from Tijuana. He watched Manny drink belligerently on street curbs. He sat in silence at dawn with Manny. He walked various cities behind Manny’s heavy steps.

Hours passed. He kept writing down all the visions he was seeing, a life he was suddenly a part of. His heart was pounding. His eyes were glazed. He lifted the pen from the page and put it back between his teeth. Manny was the most fascinating man ever to have entered his life.

Manny, my latin psycho.

Manny, my beautiful boy.

Notes on Manuel (Manny) Rodriguez

BABY MANNY

Born in Tijuana, Mexico.

Wait, go back: his mother. She’s from the southern region of Mexico, near the Valley of Oaxacas. Her childhood—indigenous traditions, her grandparents, the People of the Clouds.

One day, out of nowhere, her mother leaves town. One day, out of nowhere, her father comes back to say he hopes she never turns out like her mother, then leaves town again. Her grandparents love her. But they are old. They pass on. People of the Clouds go back to the clouds. No more traditions. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, men keep coming by. Barely seventeen. First baby comes. Héctor. The father takes off. She’s got something though. Other men keep coming. Second child, Graciela. This papa’s gone too. Soon though another takes his place. ‘How’s a beautiful girl like you all alone?’ Then a third child comes along, Ignacio. Just as quick, this papa scampers. Another comes by. He says something like ‘What kind of a woman let’s herself live this way? You beauty.’ He says he’ll take care of her. Out of his ‘care’ the fourth child comes, Javier. Then suddenly, Jeckyll & Hyde. Goodbye romance, hello violence. She’s pregnant with her fifth. He says something like ‘That little shit ain’t mine. You’ve been whorin it.’ Now her forehead has a glaze of sweat. She’s got constant fever. Bully tries to kill the baby several times. Bully uses his fists. But she fights off his fists. That night she’s strong, superhuman, the way a mother protecting her child can be. He says he’s tired of her witchery, he takes all the money in the house and disappears. And fifth baby comes—despite all the efforts to beat it to death. Baby Manny.

The five children grow up in filth. Circus ways, spend a lot of time calling each other bastards (because none of them have fathers). Make up easily and laugh hard at each other’s ugliness with devotion.

BOY MANNY

Boy Manny grows up getting into trouble. Especially with the men that come by for his mother. Little by little, he develops a dark vibe. Little by little, the men stop messing with him. Little by little, adults and kids alike start to be afraid of Manny.

Soon his own mama starts to flinch when he’s around. She thinks maybe it’s her own fault, for pushing out a battered baby.

Manny can read her mind. He says, “Shoulda let dat peeza-shit pound me to death, Ma.”

TEENAGE MANNY

Teenage Manny’s got big dreams and a frightening smile. He gets his way. Fifteen and shows up one evening on a Honda motorcycle. Where’d you get that? His mom’s new man asks him. Nona yer damn bizness, bitch, he mumbles. Mom’s man puts down his beer. Mom’s man swings hard at Manny. There’s blood on the floor. Manny wipes his nose and gets his ass outa there. His Honda days begin. Rides home and if the man’s around, he takes back off again. Sometimes he’s gone for days, then weeks, then it’s his birthday. Sixteen and he takes off on his Honda. Tijuana River Valley. Across the border. Hangs out at Imperial Beach. Then moves on to San Diego. Soon, his track record starts. He moves around. Goes East. Las Vegas. New Mexico. San Antonio. Florida. Traffic violations, vandalism, theft, burglary, arson, assault…

US patroller stops Manny. Tells him to step off his vehicle. Manny lifts up his seat as if he’s getting off, but then just slugs the cop in the face. The cop falls over his own scrambling, right in front of the Honda. Before the cop can get up, Manny’s revved up the bike. The cop looks up. Too late. Manny rides his Honda over the cop’s arm and off, away. The cop’s screaming in the background. Blood orange sunset.

Now the law’s really angry with Manny. But he’s hard to catch. He’s not a US citizen. Plus, sometimes thugs want him on projects. Manny says “No thanks” every time. Manny don’t work for nobody. If the thug insists, Manny gets pushy. This way, thugs and cops alike don’t like Manny.

Women. That’s another story.

EUROPE/WOMEN

Manny’s fucked up so bad in the States that he’s gotta get out now. He goes to Europe ’cause some girl says, “come to Europe”. She’s obviously in love with him and obviously had a father who did stuff to her, ’cause she puts up with all kinds of stuff from Manny. Even asks him to do it to her. When she asks, it makes Manny uneasy. Sometimes he does it and sometimes he says, “Leave me alone.”