Without Moral Compass

Welcome back dear reader. It's been over a year since I've posted on this blog. Many things in my life have changed. I'm no longer homeless, living with people who care about me and working at a car wash struggling to get back on my feet still.

Alright, so where was I? Oh yes, my crazy 20's, being promiscuous and getting herpes from a prostitute. Back then, I had no moral compass. I cared for nobody, except my grandmother. Even after getting an STD I didn't really change, except that I would always use protection so I wouldn't spread the disease. So maybe there was a slight change, but not enough to avoid the mistakes I made. I'm about to share one of the most memorable mistakes.

There was this young girl from the high school that fell for me. She introduced me to her mother, who approved of me (for her own reasons which you will soon find out) and I became her "boyfriend" for 2 weeks. I just went along with it because it was convenient. I'd go there to hang out, her mother would make these great meals and always smiling and welcoming. We'd make out, but nothing else because I knew she was a virgin and at one point she'd want more than just my hands in her shirt.

Back then I was very accurate when it came to young females, because to tell the truth, I felt that I was not good enough for females my age (or older).

At the end of the second week of being together it happened. As expected she wanted more. Her mother was at work, so we did it to Gary Wright's "Dream Weaver" song. As soon as it was over, I knew she had realized that we were not meant to be together. She broke up with me, I was a bit hurt but was fine with it and went home. 

Two days later I get a call from her mother and I start to freak out. Her daughter was not 18, so I thought "the mother must've found out that we had sex and anytime now I'm going to have the cops at my door".

Nope. Instead she was consoling me over the breakup with her daughter! Telling me that she was not mature enough to handle a relationship with me, that instead I needed someone more mature. We spoke for about two hours on the phone (no texting back then) and by the end of it, she was clearly flirting with me.

Let me repeat now, I had no moral compass. She asked me to come over that night, and I did. As promiscuous as I had been, that night she taught me a few things. That is not the crazy part. What I could not believe, is that she was being very... verbal, explicit and quite loud. Her room was next to her daughter's. There was no doubt in my mind that my ex-girlfriend could hear me getting busy with her mom.

I spent the night, and the next morning I wake up to hear them arguing. This is what I recall of it (may not be 100% accurate).

"How could you do this to me?"

"You broke up with him, you said you didn't love him. So now that I have him, you want him back?"

"I don't want him back!"

"Good, because he is mine now."

"You don't understand! he is too young for you!"

"But you were old enough for him?"

"It's not the same! This is wrong, he is my ex!"

"You'll get over it. He is my boyfriend now."

I hear a door being slammed, and the mother coming back to her bedroom (I was still in her bed) asking me if I'd like eggs and toast for breakfast. I said yes, and next thing we're eating breakfast in the dining room.

You'd think that after hearing the argument between mother and daughter, I would have had the common sense to leave, nope. I was too selfish. I could tell I had acquired a sugar mamma, my first (and not the last). She'd buy me clothes, give me money, pay for meals when going out and buy weed we'd smoke together in her bedroom. It lasted a few months. I would still have sex with the girls in my neighborhood, I wasn't monogamous. 

The arguments between mother and daughter would get more intense. It reached a point when I thought that if I didn't end things... their relationship would be beyond repair. It was one of the few occasions when I actually did the right thing back then (better late than never).

I can honestly say now that it did affect me, and that it took years to get Gary Wright's "Dream Weaver" song out of my head every time I hooked up with a girl that looked like the daughter. Still to this day the song makes me feel a little sad, like I lost something.

The only person who ever knew about this story was my late wife. I hope in the end that walking away helped mend their relationship somehow.

Until next time.

May you walk in the light of God.

Sincerely.

Luis

Home Depot takes me to New York

Hello dear reader, be at peace.

Today I've been looking back at my week. On one side, my Huffy Beach Cruiser bike was stolen, but on the other side an old friend from my past contacted me through Facebook and wants to meet me.

The bike was no big deal, it was something material that in time can be replaced; I hope it is put to good use. Meeting someone I haven't seen in 15 years, makes me nervous; a little afraid even. But there must be a reason God allowed her to find me.

So, back to the drug deal. Yeah, so there I was, scared out of my mind; frozen in the car hoping nothing goes wrong. Fortunately the deal was done quickly without the need for bullets to go through me. We then were on the move.

It took maybe an hour before I was told to get out of the car. One of the smugglers was talking to someone, and then both walked over to me. In Spanish the stranger said "Your grandmother sent me to get you.". It made sense, she did not belong here, dealing with dangerous criminals in the middle of the night. Sending a man was logical, and without a doubt I followed the man to his car.

I was safe, out of the reach of the smugglers and on my way to Chila, or so I thought. While driving, the man informed me that she was in New York and we were in California. She was on the other side of the country!

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I knew she lived in NY but had no idea where that was until he explained it. The man was informative but serious. His spanish sounded weird, but I could understand it clearly as he did mine. He explained that it was through her local church that she had sent the money to him, to hand over to the smugglers.

Still confused I asked him when she would arrive, and his response was unexpected. She was not coming for me, she had no money left to travel and could not afford to miss work. A bit of panic crawled through me.

Questions flied through my mind. How could I get to a place so far without money? could I walk there? can I sneak onto a bus as I could in Peru? What if she doesn't want me?

Maybe he could see my reaction, because he said they would help me. When I asked what he meant by "they" he said "my family". Still a bit confused I just nodded and said "thank you". After a while we arrived at his home, he gave me a blanket and told me to sleep on the sofa.

I fell asleep fast, I was tired. In the morning the house looked like a palace. So nice, as if out of a movie. I could hear voices so I got up and followed the sound. Entering the kitchen I found the stranger, who bid me good morning and introduced his family.

Sitting around a table with him was his wife, young son (he must've been 12yrs old) and daughter who was rather attractive (she appeared to be around 15-16 years old). To be honest, they were polite, but I could sense they were not thrilled to have me there. I can't blame them. Chila had only 2 weeks to come up with a large amount of money, and then work out a way to get it to CA and get me to a safe place.

I still have no idea how she pulled it off in such a short period of time. No, that is not true. I do have an idea. She was a kind woman, always willing to help others. It was her good heart that would win the respect of others, and that probably was how she did it. Those who appreciated and respected her must have helped her.

I no longer remember the names of the people that hosted me; they gave me some clothes and fed me while I was with them. On the morning of the third day I was told that I needed to work so I could save money. It was explained to me that if I wanted to get to my grandmother as fast as possible, that I needed $300 for a plane ticket.

Back in the late 80's there was no Homeland Security, pretty much anyone could get on a plane within the states and go to any state with a ticket. I was told that the best way to get work was to stand at a certain corner early in the morning (so early that the sun didn't even seem to be out) near a Home Depot. Cheap labor. It worked.

The first thing I learned how to shout was "pick me!"; because every time there would be at least 30 undocumented people hoping to get work. On bad days, I made $3 an hour, on good days $5 an hour. Some work was easy, some was extremely strenuous and even painful.

I was so determined to get to Chila, that I had the $300 within two weeks. I wish I could remember the family that hosted me back then. 29 years have gone by; I hope god rewarded them for what they did for my grandma.

In what seemed to be the blink of an eye, I went from leaving a port accompanied by smugglers to boarding a plane to NY. Even though I was 18 years old I couldn't stop the fear of the plane crashing when it took off. I had a window seat which made it a bit harder to deal it.

My fingers became claws, holding on to the arms of my seat for dear life. My face was tense, I could barely breathe. It didn't take long for the plane to straighten up, allowing me to relax and thank God for it.

I greatly enjoyed the view from my window during the flight. When I was younger I had flown to and from Germany, but I could not recall either flight. I went through the same panic when the plane landed in NY at night.

When I arrived at La Guardia airport; Chila was there waiting for me, with her sister's son Javier. I was happy to see her, after all the years we had been apart. Grandma cried, telling me how happy she felt to see me again.

Xavier (one of her sister's son) drove us to Brooklyn; where grandma lived with her sister and her two sons. I slept on the sofa, which would be my place to sleep for a few months while I adapted to american life.

Those were easy days, a time I wish I had spent doing more productive things. At the time I had very little ambition. After all, I had dodged the bullet, literally. I was so happy to be alive and out of danger that I cared little about my future.

I was far from stupid, but neither was I wise or careful. I was selfish, careless and even felt entitled. My resentment for my mother, my hatred for Manolo and my mixed emotions for my half-brother probably were the cause of it.

It's late, time to call it a day. Until next time dear reader.

May you walk in the light of God.

Sincerely.

Luis