I was struggling ti get freedom from this Chinese girl. Image of handcuffs thanks to Morguefile.
Throughout this time of setting up my garage routine and taking in new customers I never lost sight of regainng my freedom, I had placed Pug- La China- on the back burner. She had, however, been stepping up her visits from Colon to see me to pick up money for herself and the baby. Her attitude hadn’t changed, however. She continued to generate stories about me mistreating her- all lies- just to hold it over my head. Remembering how she had damaged my peaceable relationship with the whole of the Westindian community in Bocas, thus forcing us to leave, I tried to keep her visits as short and cool as possible. I would just hand her some money for the baby on the nights that she did come as I saw her step down from the bus in front of the garage. Continue reading
I kept the unopened letter in my back pocket. Image from Morguefile.com
That afternoon I hurried back to my garage, for I thought of never responding to my father or taking him up on anything he had to offer. This resolve not to respond to him set me free forever and I vowed not to open the letter or read it. At that time in our lives I had a bad feeling about allowing that man who called himself my father to dominate any part of my life again. By the time I reached my garage I had stuck the letter in my back pocket unopened and tried to forget it. I had known that man most of my young life and at that moment I rejected the very idea of having his cruel presence in my life ever again. Continue reading
That day, as we walked home from the picnic with the Seventh Day Adventist community, Pug become talkative, wanting to open up a conversation with me that she had apparently been rehearsing with herself for a while. “Juni,” she said carefully, “I want to discuss something with you but, I don`t want you to get vex with me or get so upset with me.“ I braced myself for what I thought was the inevitable. She then continued gathering a little more strength in her voice.”It is that I want to tell you that I want a separation because I don’t want to be with you anymore.” Continue reading
Image thanks to quotehd.com
By now I realized why I had been out of synch whenever I tried to speak to Pug about what was making her so unhappy and the issues that had soured our “love.” But no matter how often I tried, it was fruitless as she would not respond to me, or anyone else, about what it was I had done so wrong to embitter her. Even to this day it is a mystery to me. I did continue, however, to mentally seek to know the hidden side of the things that had suddenly spoiled our lives. I began blaming it on her love of putería, or whoring which I tended to forget in my naivete. Continue reading
The RAE dictionary like this one is something we wish we had in the library. Image.
Our holiday at the beach was brief and my companions from Abel Bravo dropped me off at the stairway entrance to my building at the close of the day. I found my mother in good spirits, for a change, and talking with some of the neighbors about her son in “Abel Bravo College.” It was, in fact, the highest level of public education accessible to all humble households throughout the province of Colon at the time, as I explained before. I started taking note of the differences between Abel Bravo and my former school, The Instituto Nacional, in small and large ways. Continue reading
Bobby Grant at age 95, a few months before his death. God bless him.
The mysteries surrounding the care and treatment of women that I had learned earlier on in my life from that terribly pragmatic pimp in Marañon were working like a charm. I was keeping the beauties of Abel Bravo at bay and clinging to my studies as I had never done before and, what’s more, my mother seemed to respect my apparent alone-ness although genuine conversations between us were quite rare. Continue reading