A Short Story:
By Frankie Firme

   Raul Sanchez was just finishing mowing his front lawn on a warm afternoon when he decided to sit down on his front porch and have a smoke. As he sat, he smiled in satisfaction at how nice his front lawn looked in comparison to his neighbors.

   For over 40 years, Raul had tended to his home and front lawn, and it had the appearance of a well cared for white gingerbread house on a green carpet while many of the homes on his street had deteriorated over the years because of neglect.

   His was one of the last well maintained white clapboard homes with an open yard on his street, while most of the others had succumbed to the popular Mexican style of pastel colored stucco with chain link or wrought iron fences around front yards.

   He had seen the neighborhood grow, change, and then change again in the 40 years since he and his wife Laura bought their house after getting married shortly after his return from the Viet Nam War. His 3 children had all married and moved far away from the neighborhood, leaving Raul all alone in the home since his wife had died 5 years earlier. Both he and Laura were only children, so no other family ever visited.

   Retired and comfortable, Raul spent his days alone tending to his yard, enjoying cold beers and an occasional marijuana cigarette on his porch, listening to his music from the 60’s and 70’s, and looking at the goings on in the neighborhood from his front porch.

   He missed Laura and the kids so, but he made no efforts to socialize with his neighbors, many who moved in & out over the years, and he saw or heard from his kids only during holidays as they had moved so far away to get away from what they considered “the barrio” or “the ghetto.” Raul didn’t mind it. He loved his home. It was his. He had earned it.

   Because of his quiet reclusive ways, he became known as “the old dude” by neighborhood kids, many who mocked him, or disrespected his yard by throwing and leaving trash on his yard over the past couple of years.

   None of their parents knew him or talked to him, so they felt safe in laughing at him, or disrespecting his house. He had been burglarized a couple of times while out shopping, but he still refused to desecrate the style of his home by hiring somebody to install wrought iron and give his home the appearance of a prison.

   Many a night he would hear the sounds of kids parked in front of his house drinking in cars while playing music, the sounds of police sirens & helicopters outside every so often, and in the morning he would find beer cans, trash, and broken bottles in his yard or in the street in front of his house.

   Raul would grimace in disgust & resentment, would simply go about cleaning it up, then would sit on his porch with a sense of satisfaction when he was done, and have a smoke. He took pride in his home… and he never bothered anybody or chased them off his front yard when some would squat on it while waiting for the bus which ran by his house. Some older kids would park and drink in front of his house at night, but Raul never bothered them…part of life in the neighborhood, he rationalized.

   Across the street lived the Avila family. The 3 brothers were lively and well known while growing up in the neighborhood over the years, and they attracted many friends and visitors. Raul had watched them grow into teenagers, then young adults, from a distance, and they were always entertaining to watch.

   The oldest, Henry, was a year younger than Raul’s youngest married daughter Gabriella, had attended high school with her, and still lived at home with his parents. He was one of the few people on the street who ever said hello to the “old dude.” He frequently asked from afar “How’s Gabby doing, Mr. Sanchez?” Raul would just grin and nod his head in a friendly manner, never really answering… he was a nice kid, but Raul was never in the mood for company or conversation.

   Once in awhile, an Army buddy, Jimmy Orta, would drop by and visit Raul. A Los Angeles police officer soon to be retired, Jimmy often dropped by while on duty, and the sight of a black and white police car parked in front of Raul’s house made people wonder who the “old dude” really was. The fact that the faint smell of marijuana smoke occasionally drifted out of Raul’s open windows made for many behind the back jokes and wisecracks.

   Raul also had another Army buddy occasionally visit. His name was Earl Weston. A large Viking looking Caucasian man with long bright red hair and beard, Earl usually visited with a couple of other friends on loud, roaring Harley~Davidson motorcycles. Once again, the faint smell of marijuana would drift out of Raul’s windows, but there was never any trouble, and the bikers seemed to leave almost as soon as they arrived.

   Both these men visited once every other month or so, but for the most part, Raul was alone every day, and he enjoyed his quiet and solitary existence, not bothering anyone.

   To the neighborhood, he was just “the old dude.” Nobody knew much about him.

   One evening, while the Avila brothers were having a party across the street, some older hoodlums from another neighborhood, about 6 men, parked in front of Raul’s house, eyeing the party from across the street. Raul peeked briefly outside his front room curtains and saw an unfamiliar van parked in front of his house….so he kept an eye on them.

   After about a half hour, one of the younger Avila brothers walked out in front with a pretty young girl. As they talked and laughed, the men in the van slowly began to get out.

Raul saw all this, recognized trouble, and made 2 quick phone calls, left messages, and then ran outside wielding a baseball bat that had sat behind his front door for years…

   Unaware that they were being approached, the boy & girl innocently embraced and began kissing, when the men rushed up on them, separated the two young lovers, and began to beat the Avila boy up.

   The young girl tried to scream, but a hand was put over her mouth, and she was being dragged behind a parked car in the driveway by 2 laughing men.

   To the unsuspecting surprise of the young hoodlums, Raul came running across the street screaming like a wild man, and quickly took out 2 of the assailants by hitting them squarely in the shins with the baseball bat, dropping them painfully to the floor. As they screamed in pain, one of the other men tried to grab Raul from behind, but was quickly flipped over Raul’s shoulder, and he screamed out in agony as Raul deftly broke his arm at the elbow, while kicking another in the groin, causing him to moan and crumple up on the floor.

   One of the men holding the girl let go and charged Raul from behind with a knife, stabbing him twice in the shoulder, to which Raul spun around and plucked out one of the man’s eyeballs, and then jump kicking him squarely in the neck , dropped him to the ground with an audible thud.

   By this time, the girl and young man ran inside and began to summon help from the party, and the attackers began running across the street to their parked van with Raul in pursuit.

   One of the men turned around and began to engage Raul in a fistfight, then another jumped in, then a third…but Raul kept them all at bay, delivering some well placed hard blows and kicks before another one of the other men yelled out “get out of the way, Oscar!”

   Raul had less than 2 seconds to see the man holding a shotgun before it went off, and he felt himself falling backwards onto his front lawn with a warm feeling in his stomach….he then heard all the men jump in the van and doors slamming…. then tires screeching as the van started to take off into the night…

   …as he looked up into the night sky with all the stars, he could see the flashing of red lights in his periphery, and hear the roar of motorcycles coming up, accompanied by police and ambulance sirens, and the noises of a growing crowd…. as thoughts of Laura and his kids came into his mind…he felt sleepy, and he closed his eyes.

   …as if coming out of a fog, Raul could hear men’s voices in the background, slowly becoming louder…” Hey Sarge!… Sarge!…c’mon Sanchez, this is no way to go out, man!”…

   Raul opened his eyes to see his friends Jimmy and Earl standing over him. Both had the red eyed look of men who hadn’t slept for days.

   Upon seeing Raul opening his eyes, both men became emotional and embraced, then high fived each other. “Told you he was a tuff old fucker!” Earl said through moist eyes. “Yeah…this old dude ain’t ready to leave us yet, right, Sarge?” Jimmy added.

   “What happened?” Raul asked groggily. He could hear the sounds of a crowd nearby in what sounded like a hallway. “Where am I?” he asked.

   “Relax, man,” Earl said, “You’re in a hospital. You got stabbed and shot protecting some neighbor’s kid a couple of nights ago. You called me and Jimmy and left our Viet Nam combat code ‘trouble in paradise’ in phone messages. By the time I was able to get there with about 6 of my bros, and Jimmy showed up with the cavalry in about 5 cop cars and a helicopter, you had already done some damage, but was down and bleeding…but you left some bleeding and hurting punks in a van, and the crowd of kids just about ate them up alive when they saw and heard about you. If Jimmy and the cops hadn’t of showed up, those punks could have gotten killed. Turns out one of them guys is a known dope peddler wanted on at least 3 felony warrants, and his boys are wanted for a string of other major crimes…seems one of them was stalking a young girl, and followed her to the party where all the shit came down ..she didn’t even know him, but if it hadn’t been for you, she might have been raped… maybe even killed…” Earl looked upon his friend with pride. “Shit, man! You been out for 2 days, and me and Jimmy and those Avila brothers and their friends have been standing guard here ever since they brought you in.”

   “We got them all, Sarge,” Jimmy added, “They all going away for a long time.”

   “Well…when can I go home?” Raul asked. The other 2 men looked at each other in amusement.

   “In a couple of weeks, Sergeant Sanchez…and we’ll be here to pick you up and take you home. We promise. You just rest, man…this mission’s over, Bro,” Earl said loudly in a mock military voice, as he beckoned for Jimmy to leave with him as Raul drifted back into sleep.

   Stepping outside into the hallway outside of Raul’s room, the 3 Avila brothers and about 10 of their friends approached them…

   “How’s the old dude doing?… man, he was one bad mutha-fucka the other night,” the youngest Avila brother said, “He saved my life.”

   Beaming with pride, Jimmy said “He’s always been a bad mutha-fucka…in ’68 he was our sergeant and squad leader in Viet Nam. We were all Army Green Beret Special Forces. We parachuted more than 5 times into battle with Sergeant Sanchez leading the way. He led us through some bloody battles, and he saved a lot of lives of his men while inflicting some heavy damage on the enemy. He was awarded the Medal of Honor, the Silver Star, and received 3 purple hearts for injuries in combat… me and this guy Earl are standing here today only because he came in and pulled us out of a firefight when we were outnumbered 5 to 1 one night, and he practically carried both of us to a chopper with bullets flying all around us…we owe him our lives…”

   All the young men’s mouthed dropped open. “No shit?” one of the boys asked in awe.

   “No shit,” the two older said in unison as they walked away… 

EPILOGUE:

   After 3 weeks, Raul was allowed to go home. Both Jimmy and Earl were there to bring him home.

   “What you gonna do now, Sarge?,” one of the men asked during the ride home.

   “Well, shit. My yard is probably a mess, my car needs washing, I haven’t taken out my trash in 3 weeks, and there’s probably piles of shit on the front yard and in the street in front of my house that hasn’t been picked up in 3 weeks …so I got plenty to do,” Raul said, somewhat reluctantly. Then he smiled to himself and said “But at least I’ll be in my house, sleeping in my bed.”

   As they turned the corner and drove up to Raul’s house, Raul could see neighbors standing outside waving to him… strange, he thought…I don’t know these people…

   Driving up to his house, he saw the three Avila brothers sitting on his porch chairs. He noticed that his lawn had been cut and well cared for; his car was sitting in his driveway washed and waxed; his trash can had been set out on the curb, and the street in front of his house was spotless and swept clean.

   As he got out of the car, the three boys approached him with respectful smiles and nods.

   “My name’s Tony Avila, Mr. Sanchez. I want to thank you for saving my life the other night and we all want to thank you for serving our Country.” The youngest one said. “I’m sorry you were hurt…if there’s ever anything I can do for you, all you have to do is ask. Welcome home, sir.”

   “You already know me, Mr. Sanchez,” Henry Avila said, ‘This is my brother Rico. We just wanted to tell you that if there’s anything we can ever do for you, just ask. We just wanted to thank you for saving our younger brother’s life. Who knows what could of happened to him or that girl if you hadn’t of been there.”

   “Thanks, guys,” Raul said softly. “If I ever need you, I’ll call you. Right now, I just want to go in my house and rest.” He bid the three boys goodbye, shook their hands, and he and his two friends went into the house…

   “…Pretty cool for an old dude, huh?,” Raul said smiling, as he passed his friends each a bottle of cold beer…

   “Yeah…for an old dude,” both Jimmy and Earl laughed in unison as they clinked their beers together…

This is a story from the upcoming compilation of short stories in Frankie Firme’s upcoming book “When Vatos Locos walked the Earth” Repinted from LatinoLA (www.latinola.com)