by L. W. Clark
I called Niki the next morning. We were both thinking the same thing. We wanted a change, and maybe this was the opportunity. She wasn’t happy here either. She was single, in a low paying job, and she lived with her parents, her brother and his wife and her niece. But at least her father had a job that paid well.
“We should meet the lady,” I said. “We have nothing to lose by listening to what she has to say.”
“That’s true,” said Niki. “But are you really serious about this? We’d be leaving our family and all our friends.”
“I know, but I am serious. I’m becoming more serious the more I think about it. If you are too, maybe we can meet her together.”
“Yes, let’s do that. Let’s get together for coffee this morning so we can talk some more.”
The lady’s name was Margo. I got her phone number and gave her a call.
“I’m really, really busy but I can try to find time for you next week,” Margo said.
“That would be great. Thanks so much,” I said.
“Yes, yes. Come meet me next Tuesday, July 11th at 12:30 in my office. See you then,” and she hung up.
Well she certainly sounds busy. And she has an office, so that seems to make it more legit. Having an office is a big deal these days.
Niki and I were so excited, with hope and fear. Where were we going? What if this didn’t work out well? What if this or that? It’s hard to leave friends and family, even if life sucks. I guess I was used to this everyday crap life, so it was still hard to imagine a change. Changes are tough for most people, but that’s because they’re lazy. It is easier to stay where you are with what you have because of the comfort of routine. Even if we know it’s a change for the better, we might still be too lazy to do it. This is our weak human mentality. We’re afraid to take a chance because of all the “what if” questions.
And I’m just like everyone else. I’ve got all these “what if” thoughts in my head. But come on. I’ve made absolutely no progress in my life. I don’t see any good coming to me in the future if I stay here. And anyway, I’m not going to miss much if I leave here for a year or so. Maybe I’ll miss all the gossip, but not much more. The pace of life here is about as fast as a turtle. I’m sure I’ll catch up quickly when I come back. And what’s wrong with going to a better country, one that’s safer and more civilized? It’s not like I’m going to a war zone or a violent place where things could be dangerous.
These positive thoughts are making me feel better, but still … still … I’m worried. It can be frightening. A new culture, new people, and I don’t even know the language. If I’m so frightened, why not just stay here? Carry on, with the same life? That’s even more frightening. Staying here without any hope for the future? Yes, change is hard and risky, but at least there’s hope for the future.
As these thoughts raced through my head, I became more determined to meet busy Margo, who even had an office. Niki and I were always great friends, but now we had a chance to get even closer. It would be great to go through this journey together. We made ourselves believe our plan would come true, and that it would be awesome. The next day I shared my idea with my family. Their reactions?
“What?”
“Are you crazy?”
“Where are you going?”
“What busy lady?”
“What did she say?”
“Who the hell is Margo?”
And finally, “No.” My mom said, “I will not let you go.”
She’s not taking my idea seriously. No one is. Who can blame them? Sometimes, even I don’t take my idea too seriously. There’s still a lot to do. I’m not going to argue with them. When things become more real I’ll bring it up again, and tell them what I’m going to do.
Niki said we should bring one of our parents with us to meet Margo so she wouldn’t screw us out of our money. Of course, Margo would want to get paid for her services, but we didn’t know if we could trust her. Maybe she would make all these promises, take the money and disappear. That happened a lot.
So, Niki asked her father, Bernard, to come with us. Her father was an easygoing, quiet person. All he ever did was work to support his family and then went home. Day after day. I’m sure he was exhausted at some point. Doing so much hard work without any rest. It’s kind of boring from my perspective, but maybe that’s all he wanted. Niki knew her father would say yes. Just one word. He never talked much, but he did like the idea, and he agreed to go with us to meet Margo.
Maybe he liked this plan because it would mean supporting one less person in the family. He was worried that Niki was still single. I know men usually don’t care about that stuff, but I knew he did, since I saw him so often. And Niki was the kind of daughter who would talk about everything with her parents. She would bitch about still being single and the relationships with guys that wouldn’t last long. Bernard was probably tired of hearing about that over and over again. Or, maybe he wanted to see Margo the business lady, because he imagined she would be sexy?
Being a business lady was unusual in our city. Most women were married and stayed at home, taking care of the family and the house. You know those kinds of housewives, who don’t really care about how they look anymore? They don’t put any makeup on or dress sexy for their husbands. They think they’re already in this marriage thing so why even bother with any extra efforts. They already have lots to do in the laundry room, the kitchen and so on. But men? They always like a woman with makeup or in a sexy dress while wearing high heels. It doesn’t matter how long they’ve been married. They always like it. I’m sure Bernard was enjoying his “business lady” imagination. Men like those kinds of fantasies. I’m just saying.
Niki’s father left work at lunchtime and picked us up to go to the meeting. As we approached the address, it looked like a residential building. We went into the building to the second floor where there were two doors. The left door was where (hopefully) all the magic happened.
What if this is all a joke? Maybe she isn’t even in there. What if we ring the bell and no one opens the door? Or someone opens the door and says, “Margo who?” I’m so skeptical. I just want to see this lady. It would be embarrassing if we asked Bernard to leave work and take us here, all for nothing.
We buzzed the door and heard a female voice.
“Come in, the door is open.”
Oh, thank God. At least someone’s in there.
“The office” was obviously somebody’s apartment, you could tell. Well, I could tell. I saw everything, all the details. I can scan an entire space in a second. But it was fine. There wasn’t any desk with work papers or a phone. It was just one big, dark room. Old walls, high ceiling, with nice furniture.
Margo was sitting on a couch near a couple of chairs and a coffee table. She greeted us, and we all sat down. She looked like a business lady, which made me feel a little better. She had olive skin with bleached blond hair and puffy but small, sexy eyes. With her deep voice, you could tell she was a smoker.
I don’t know why some women think if they bleach their hair blond, they can get more attention from people, to attract men or have a more believable business look. I guess she was one of those ladies. But maybe it does work sometimes, because the minute she started to reach for her cigarette box on the coffee table, Bernard was up with his lighter on. He calmly lit her cigarette.
“Thanks … thank you,” Margo said, looking at him with a slight smile.
“Of course,” Bernard said as he sat back down.
It’s kind of funny watching them. Regardless of the circumstances, every woman likes a gentleman and every man likes a woman’s attention.
“We understand you’re able to get invitation letters from the United States. Is that right?” I asked.
“Yes, yes I can,” Margo said. “I have very good connections in America. I’ve known them for a long time. They can send notarized invitation letters.”
“That’s great,” Niki said.
“Yes,” Margo said, exhaling smo
ke. “With this letter, you can apply to the American consulate for a visa. There’s no guarantee you’ll get one, but without the letter, you can’t even apply.”
We weren’t there long. We left content and got in the car. We couldn’t wait to hear Bernard’s opinion. But he was quiet. He turned to the back of the car and looked at us, but he didn’t say anything.
This guy seems to move in slow motion. It can really get on my nerves, especially when I’m impatient. I can’t imagine dealing with him every day. No wonder Niki’s mother is always screaming at him. I’ve heard that a few times. She’s such an emotional person. Fast and loud, and the complete opposite of him. And yet they still live together after twenty-some years. Go figure.
Bernard lit his cigarette, inhaled deeply, twice, and while blowing the smoke right into our faces he finally said, “I think you girls should go for it.” Again, he inhaled, even deeper. “She seems like the real deal.”
That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.
Margo said when she got the money, she’d start working on the papers, which might take a few weeks since she was super busy. After receiving the papers, we’d apply for the visa. She also told us that the people inviting us to America could buy the airline tickets for us. Once we got there, we could stay with them and they would help us find jobs. We would pay them back at triple the amount of the airline ticket.
Triple the amount was kind of steep but overall it seemed like a win-win situation. I liked it because there was no way I could afford the airline ticket. The hardest part was getting approved for the visa. I heard from others that so many people had tried to get one but without any luck. Maybe one in one hundred were approved. Maybe.
I didn’t expect Niki’s excitement. Her eyes got big as she hugged her father and thanked him. Then she grabbed me, shook me, and we started bouncing up and down in the back seat of the car. I wanted to continue talking about this plan, in part to make myself more confident.
Niki said we should give Margo the money as soon as we could, so she could start working on the invitation letters. Niki’s father agreed and he promised her he would give her the money tomorrow. We decided not to talk about it to anyone until things moved along. We thought people might get jealous, and we didn’t want any evil eyes from them.
The second hardest part? I didn’t have any money.
THREE
That evening I went home happy, but impatient. I just wanted all the paperwork done, to pack and get out of there. I was in a hurry. It was going to be really hard to endure the process of getting this letter.
I knew I needed to find a way to get the money, but I had no idea how. Where or who would it come from? It was a few hundred dollars, which was a decent amount back then, especially for me. I was thinking and thinking, to find some way to make this happen. Nothing was coming to mind, but I was sure I’d find a way.
I just wanted to run away from this city, the city that I loved and hated. The city I grew up in and was mine. The city where I had so many memories. This was the only place I knew, and I knew everything about it. I knew each street, every building. This city and I were excellent friends and I thought I would never abandon it. When I was outside of the city, I would miss it so much. As soon as I approached the city after being away, my heart would start beating fast. It was always an exciting and happy feeling coming back to the city.
This was the city of my family, my friends, my first love, my second, the boys who loved and respected me. The city where I knew so many people. When I walked down the street, I would randomly see so many of the people I knew, and we would greet each other, embrace, chat or maybe gossip a little. We loved to gossip. We loved to hear something new about something or someone. It was usually spicy.
I wasn’t even sure how I knew some people. I just did. We were all connected. The person could be anyone—from school, mutual friends, a relative’s friend or a coworker. These were the people I grew up with, the people who I saw so often. They were everywhere, when you went outside, when you visited your friend. You saw them at birthday parties, weddings and funerals. It was one big life in one small place. This was the place where I didn’t want to be anymore.
Is this true? What’s happening to me? What’s happening is I want more. I want a progressive life and growth. I want independence, to be free and strong. None of which is possible here. There aren’t enough opportunities. So many people are unemployed. Thank God people help each other survive, and I give them credit. But those people don’t need or want more. They’re happy as long as they have bread on the table every day and hang out. But that’s not me. I don’t want to just survive.
We can’t be independent here because our families won’t let us move out and do whatever we want. We can’t be strong because they won’t let us. I want to be free. And by free, I mean free inside, in my soul. No judgment, no criticism, no everyday worries about who said what to whom and how often. No mandatory cultural things like getting married before I’m twenty or being home before 11:00 at night.
There were so many reasons I needed a change. A big one being that I didn’t see any way to make financial progress. I was tired of counting every penny. My paycheck was divided up for so many things. There was never enough. Most of it would be gone in a couple of days, to pay the bills, for food and other stuff. The rest of the 28 days we’d have small amounts for transportation, some bread and minor necessities. While it was fun to live in this city, with its lunatic lifestyle and even nuttier people, I just didn’t feel like I belonged there anymore. Maybe I never did, and I finally just had had enough. One night I went to bed and couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about my plan. My head was spinning with so many worries. I was having doubts.
Why do I want to do this? To escape from the many problems that make me unhappy? What’s the point of that? There are problems everywhere, right? Where was I going, where I didn’t even know anybody? Going to a foreign country, where I don’t even speak the language? Well, at least I’m going with Niki. That gives me some comfort. But I’m still afraid. At least I have a home here. I have my family and friends. People I can trust. I feel I’m more protected here. I could just stay, get married and have my own family. That is probably the best choice. Yes, this makes sense. There are a few boys around who love me, and I could consider marrying one of them. I seem to always have someone in love with me. But somehow, it never ends with marriage.
I was engaged once, in 1990, when I was 16. But I broke it off. Now and then I think about him. He had an attractive personality and a great sense of humor, which I loved. We went to the same high school and he was a year older than me. We would see each other every day at school, and after. He would walk me home after school or wherever I would go. He was so in love with me, and the feeling was mutual.
After school as we neared my home, he would beg me to stay outside for 15 minutes. I’d agree, and after he would beg me for another 15 minutes, and another and another until my mom would yell from the window to come inside. We would laugh uncontrollably.
He would walk with me any time he had a chance. I took music classes twice a week. I hated the classes because the teacher was so mean. But going to class became exciting because he’d go with me. We also saw each other when my high school friends had birthdays, and there were a lot. He knew all my classmates and since he was older, everybody respected him.
He was part of my life, and we were both so attached. We used to go to movies with other friends. Watching the movie wasn’t as exciting as sitting right next to each other in the dark. It felt so intimate and sexy. Not much we could do there, just kissing or touching each other. He would just put his arm over my shoulder, and I would lay my head against him. This was so exciting that my heart would start beating so loud I was worried I wouldn’t hear anything. I often blushed. I could feel my face get warm. But at least the room was dark so he couldn’t see it.
These moments were like having sex for us. It felt so exciting. I guess our blood pressure would skyrocket
as we held back our desires. It was torture. Besides loving me so much I think his sexual desire drove him crazy. He was so young, and at that age the desire to have sex is intense.
When he graduated from high school, he wanted me to quit my last year of school and marry him, but I couldn’t do that. My mother would kill me. I also wanted to continue studying after I graduated, to become more knowledgeable. College was free, once you passed an entrance exam, and I wanted to take advantage of that. I never answered him, but he went ahead and told his parents about the wedding plans anyway. But his parents didn’t take his plans seriously. They told him he couldn’t get married.
He got so depressed. You know, at that age every little thing seems so dramatic. His parents started to worry about him because he was so unhappy. So, they gave in and agreed to meet with him and my family about an engagement. His parents asked my mother if I would marry their son—they even brought an engagement ring.
He was going into the army for two years and he was worried about leaving me. I promised him I’d wait for him, but he wanted more than words, so I said yes to his offer and accepted the ring. My mother didn’t resist at all. She liked the idea. My family knew and liked him. His parents were nice people. They were both book smart, intelligent and classy. High-quality people. His mother was a housewife and his father worked in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
I was happy with the way it worked out. I was able to graduate from high school and continue studying at the university. But after an exciting and successful freshman year, I met someone else.
I went crazy having fun and enjoying the full attention of my new boyfriend. I don’t even know why I did it or how it happened. I guess girls need attention from boys all the time. They can’t be without it, like a fish can’t be without water. I think it’s in the female DNA.