Monkey Boy by Francisco Goldman (best self help books to read .TXT) 📕

tree branches outside the window, the scraping sound of snow shoveling coming from outside, the old steam radiator hissing and gurgling, when we woke in my bed, kissing and touching, that soft chain of delicious sensual shocks, didn’t we also begin to confide in each other? Lulú did in me. She lay on her belly, her arms crossed over the pillows, looked at me over her bare shoulder with her dolphin eye and said:

If I had a father, a father who cared about me, he would say you are too old, and he would not let us be together. Maybe he would do anything to stop it, even kidnap me and lock me in a room, you know? Her smile, I guess, was ambiguous. But I don’t have a father, she said. Or else, well, I don’t know where he is. I only have a mother I don’t really speak to anymore and whose advice I would ignore anyway. There’s nobody I have to listen to. My cousin doesn’t interfere in my life. The only one responsible for my life is me.

A few moments later, Lulú said, I’ve done things I’m not proud of, Panchito.

Yeah? I said and waited a moment. Well, there’s so much that I’m not proud of, too, Lulú, I said. I could write an encyclopedia of all those things.

So many? she asked.

I’ve been around a lot longer than you have. I’ve accumulated my share of mistakes, believe me.

I want to be finished making my mistakes, she said. But if you’re planning to make some more, don’t make them with me. She playfully punched my bicep, then lightly bit it.

Lulú has the most lovely bare feet. Her toes rows of nearly identical delicate peanuts inside smooth shells and her high perfect inner arches.

Alright now, be honest but not too honest; better yet, don’t be dishonest.

I answer Lulú’s text: “Ayahuasca gives you diarrhea and makes you throw up. I don’t enjoy either of those, that’s why I’ve never done it. But don’t let that stop you.