8. It’s Now or Never
Barry looks at me wide-eyed. “You can’t leave now, man! That teacher is your ticket to heaven!”
“But am I going to tell them?”
“You gotta act tough. Put down your foot.”
“Where am I going to stay?”
“We’ll figure something out.”
“Can I stay with you?”
“Oh, no way. My mother wouldn’t let another man sleep under her roof while my sister is living there. But you can definitely wash your clothes at home.”
I tell Barry I’ll call him. He has a point and the point is clear; this is an opportunity I might not have in a long time. Living alone, without my parents watching would force me to grow up, to not being under the constant watch of my mother and the time constraints of my father. I will probably have a very rough time living myself, cooking my own meals (I don’t even know how to make rice), washing my clothes, getting a job, cleaning my room. But the rewards could be immense, going out with a hot divorced teacher who really wants me.
I walk to the living room, trembling but resolved, and stand in the corner while my mother wraps her precious glassware with old newspapers.
“Mom, I don’t want to go.”
Mom doesn’t even look up to me. “Go where?”
“To Caracas. Leave San Cristóbal. I’m going to stay here.”
Mom freezes for a second. “You can’t. We all follow your father to wherever he goes. I’m not staying here and letting your dad ruin his health with the constant traveling. I know you are scared and it’s the capital, but I’m sure you’ll make good friends.”
“I’ve decided it. I’m not going.” I try to be strong mentally, although physically I’m not doing so good. What is with the sudden urge to go pee?
“Julio!” Mom calls the supervisor.
Dad walks in the room, with a white undershit that barely has any white in it. His body is profusely sweating from packing boxes. “What is it?”
Mom’s tone goes into desperate mode. “Julio says he doesn’t want to go.”
“You’re nuts.”
“No Dad, I want to stay.”
“Where are you going to live? I’m not rich you know? We can’t afford two apartments.”
“Barry just told me I could stay with him.” Of course not, but what am I going to say, that I’ll sleep in a bench on the park?
“I want to talk to Barry’s Mother. What’s the phone number?”
Shift. Overdrive. “She’s not at home right now. She is…”
My Dad’s eyes pierce through me.
“Alright,” I offer. “Here’s the phone.”
I take a pad and scribble the phone, switching the last two digits.
Dad takes the paper without taking his eyes off me. “You really want to stay?”
Mom swivels her head towards Dad. “You are not on board with this idea, are you?”
“Sweet pea, he’s seventeen. He’s not a baby anymore! It might be good for him to be on his own. God knows he doesn’t do anything except eat like a pig and steal the car.”
Dad never calls Mom “Sweet pea” unless he wants to make a really strong point against her.
Mom continues with the opera. “But he’s never lived by himself! Who’s going to wash his clothes and feed him? He’ll probably shower once a month. And don’t even get me started with the cleaning, he’s going to live like a pig. I won’t have it!”
“Julio, what do you have to say?” For the first time in my life I notice a glimmer on my Dad’s eyes, some sense of a young, reckless man trapped inside the body of a man with a wife and a whole lot of debt. He wants to live the adventure through me, he wants to experience what he experienced when he was young once more. Or, knowing Grandma, what he couldn’t experience himself. That thought scares me to death, what if I really can pull this off?
