As for Gamaliel, I feel it; and I don’t have many premonitions of this sort in either case. Fortune, I think, will at last smile on both of you. I dedicate your favorite song again to both of you: I have a dream.
Yours, Freddy ~
The message of the song seemed to have worked its magic on her again, for she was quick to reply in thanks, and expressed the feeling of comfort she gets from it, as well as her gratitude for the moral support she was getting from me:
~ Thank you again, Primo, for sharing this beautiful song and for the positive vibe. I need all the positivity I can get while we are undergoing this traumatic episode, and so resolution to it all is in sight. I will go see Gamaliel today, and every time I go there I pray to God that some miracle will happen, that this will be the last day I have to step foot in that horrible place. He has a court appointment next Thursday, we have talked about it, and he even told me that I don’t have to show up because it would be a waste of my time (which is true). I can’t help it, nevertheless, it’s like not being there when he fell off his bike and scraped his knee when he was four. I do have a conflict of filial interest: Campanita’s (her young daughter, Campanita, or “Tinkerbell,” and half-sister of Gamaliel) Winter Festival is on that same day, so I am torn between two loves. I made up my mind, nonetheless, that I will go see Gamaliel. My hope is that he will be the first, or one of the first to go in front of the judge like he had the last time. I was out of there by 10am. But, during other times I’d been there from 8am to 4pm. If my wish is granted by the forces of the universe (that I get out of there by 10am), I will definitely have time to see Campanita; she will be the presenter, and I am relying on my ex, Enrique Alvarez, to film the event. If Enrique finds out that I went to see Gamaliel, for whom he has no love, instead of Campanita, he will freak out. At least Campanita has him; Gamaliel has no one else, especially since his own father, Roberto, wouldn’t take the time of day to inquire about his own son.
Como ves, primo?
Take care,
Becky ~
At this point, however, my mood had been spoiled by my darling old mother: it seems she had been sending me several emails trying to get me to do her dirty correspondence, to write missives and apologies of regret because both her relatives in Mexico City and Becky’s family (who have fond memories of her friendship with their mother) have been begging her to spend a week with them upon her return from Yucatan. They have implored her, begged and cried for her, but, for some damned reason, she was adamant about not going. She complained that she could no longer stand her friends and relatives, even if they treated her with the utmost respect and affection. It was almost unconscionable to me that, after listening to her complaints for so long about her abandonment by her own children, the progeny of her sisters should guard such affection and compassion for her. I had no recourse but to go off on a tangent, and cry to Becky about this silly, ungrateful old woman, if only because my friend’s own brothers and sisters were doing most of the insisting, particularly her elder brother, Santiago:
~ Querida Becky, I have received no less than three emails from your brother Santiago about getting my mother, who never informed me that she was taking a holiday in Mexico, to go visit them in Mexico City or Veracruz and see your ailing mother. He was brief and straight to the point, which makes it all the more difficult for me to rat on my own mother, who clearly is ungrateful and insensitive to their entreaties.
It breaks my heart, in a way, that he is going out of his way, and yet my confounded mother is willing to lose your love and that of your brothers by just not going, and making fucking, useless excuses for not being able to go, which is bullshit, bullshit, bullshit!!!
She even suggested, “Mejor nos quedamos quietos, y no les contestamos. Haber si asi paran de chingar.” (It’s better we just keep quiet, and don’t answer them. Maybe this way they’ll stop pestering me) ~ YES, IN SO MANY WORDS, SHE SAID THAT!
¿Que hago, prima? (What shall I do, cousin?)
Would you be willing to inform them all that my ornery, old mother is a vieja, egoista, sangrona, cabrona, vengativa, estupida, tacaña, falsa, desgraciada, y miente que no puede ir? (an old, egotistical, supercilious, haughty, mean-spirited, vengeful, stupid, tight-fisted, false, god-damned hag, and lies about not going?)
I just can’t face it.
Oh well, maybe as we approach the actual date I might send my apologies. They deserve that much, if not more.
But I feel so low, so ashamed, so embarrassed, and humiliated that you and your family are so willing to make us part of your family, and this damned old hag doesn’t care if she offends, and sends them all to Hell just because she feels like it. She acts like it would be a disaster to spend two or three hundred dollars to go, even though Santiago had promised to be her host, to feed and house her, take her on tours, and even throw a big barbecue feast for her!
Why did I have to have such a screwy mother like her?
I hate to say it, but maybe my father, himself an insufferable, evil old bigot, was truly right about her; she has been as much of an evil witch as he was an asshole.
Oh Lord, I am getting depressed again.
take care!
Primo ~
Apparently my frontal attack on my own mother, whom she had always respected, though she knew, by now at least, about her treachery and calumnies with Fabian, took her aback. She did not know as well that her brothers and sisters had tried to organize this reunion between somewhat distant relatives; to reiterate, I had met Becky back in childhood, but only recently did I learn that my mother was related to their mother twice removed, and my father had worked with theirs in the Ministerio de Gobernacion (Secretariat of State) back in the 1960s. Thereabout, she responded somewhat confusedly:
~ Primo, It really hurt me to learn about what she supposedly said. What part of her is a fake, I don’t understand?
One thing for sure is that she is not like my mother; she would have not hesitated a bit, and even last year when she was so sick, she was just looking for the opportunity to go where the fun was. If I were you, I would be honest and tell them, Santiago in particular, that she is just making up excuses. I know they love her, even more now because we see her as a sort of surrogate mother. Since our own doesn’t seem to give a crap about us, she reminds us to a great extent of our revered grandmother, Doña Chata. They will understand, and you can also say that YOU are interested in going. As for the money for the trip, Santiago is the one who is better off and might find a way for you to make it to Mexico City through PeMex (the national oil producing conglomerate he works for), who knows? Sometimes he is pretty resourceful, and if it happens for you to go, don’t hesitate.
As for your mother, never, ever cover for her. When I talk to them I will tell them my way. I would say that she is probably too tired and old to do anything.
Thanks for letting me know.
Amor,
Becky ~
Since I worried about finances, and was getting to be a “pretty-boy spendthrift” in these stupefying resorts, an offer to travel and have a good time with old friends and perhaps some longtime-no-see relatives was very tempting. Hence, I replied with unaccustomed enthusiasm as I prepared for bed on an enchanting Acapulco night:
~ Prima, what’s this you write? Really, really, really? Santiago might actually find a way to get us there courtesy of PeMex?
Did you find out about this just now, or have you known all along?
If you have, ay chica, then I wonder why Santiago hadn’t offered this in the first place? I don’t know, I guess I am overly excited now. I should not question why, and should hope for the best.
If you get a chance to talk to Santiago about the PeMex option, by all means, I certainly would love to go ~ even if I arrive as a pinche pediche, muerto-de-hambre, pidiendo limosna (a damned leech, starving vagabond, begging for alms).
... Oh God, I am all that in any case!
But, even with the sadness and the reproaches of last year (when her grandmoth
er had died, and there were those who insinuated that she had been forcibly helped along to her grave), I had fun, and it was nice experiencing it all again for the first time since adolescence. It actually left me with a desire to see them all again, now that I don’t have to be afraid about returning or facing their disapproval like I was last time. I felt that everyone, especially your family, still affirmed me. I was genuinely worried last year that they would not appreciate my presence for whatever reason, and, after I had overheard my mother tell your mother, “Ay que feo comparandolo a Fernando, ¿quien se va a fijar en el con esa figura?” (Oh, how ugly he is comparing him to Fernando---my father---who is going to notice him with that figure of his?)
Naturally, I felt hurt and dismayed that maybe others would not like me. But, everyone accepted me well enough, and Santiago and family, if I haven’t mentioned it before, were the best.
If only you could make it there too, this would be a great get-together-family-and-friends reunion, don’t you think?
Pero, haber que pasa. Mejor no me vuelo (But, we’ll see what happens. It’s better I don’t get carried away).
Anyway, I fully agree with, and affirm your advice; as a matter of fact, I had already, just before I received your reply, communicated with Alejandro, your nephew, and told him straight that “auntie” Maribel was being a tranca-tacaña? (tight-fisted cheapskate), did not want to spend money, and lied about her reasons for not going. So, I guess I will do the same with the others, especially Santiago.
About your question about being a fake (falsa); it is simply that she lies, and pretends to love and appreciate all of you guys, but it simply is not so. She is a bitter, angry, resentful old woman, and because she spent 51 horrible years with Don Fernando, and she did a terrible job of raising her own children, she now blames us for HER MISTAKES. She has now reached her 80th year without the capacity anymore to appreciate what is good in others, to give them the benefit of the doubt, or to take some sincerity for granted.
But, now with all the scandal related to la Hyena Sandra, your “beloved” sister-in-law, and the unexpected calls she received from your sister Margara about it all, as well as your niece Sandy’s rather hypocritical emails, which her mother, it turned out, made her send us to appear friendly, well, now Doña Maribel really suspects everyone’s motives. She now thinks everyone is out to screw her somehow, to get her to part with her money, or whatever means to use, abuse and exploit her. In other words, she expects to get from others all that she has given to them, figuratively speaking.
I tell you, she is suspicious, and is a rancorous witch who never forgives ~ she does not forgive anything. Take your mother as an example: my mother never forgave Doña Lydia for the problems related to the purchase of a damned property in Mexico City.
Therefore, she is a fake lying to you about everything, about not calling you, about why she cannot go to Veracruz for Summer holidays ~ a fake about everything!
When you do get in touch with la familia, lay it on heavy, have no mercy. Stick it to old Maribel! They must know that she is not the sweet-heart they might think she is. She is a total, hateful phony!
Take care, and hope I, at least, can make it to the reunion!
Freddy ~
Unfortunately for me, Becky did not offer much reassurance about getting me some free transportation, though she had been the one to bring up the subject. Acapulco was getting to be a bit expensive anyway, and I thought about heading for Jalisco, or southward to Oaxaca. My mood wasn’t improving, my mother’s abrupt intervention had soured matters, and I couldn’t focus on my mission, ill-defined as it remained, for the time being. But, she finally replied, and clarified, not especially to my satisfaction, the whole thing about Santiago and PeMex:
~ About Santiago and PeMex, Primo: I know that PeMex offers some kind of transportation that its employees can use for free, and I know that a while back they could transport relatives for any reason, but I am not sure how it works. I just know how my brother is, and if you tell him that you really want to go but don’t have the means, he will sympathize. If he knows of a way to help you, he will.
On to other matters: so, your mother is really paranoid, huh? Most old folks get like that, and it doesn’t surprise or trouble me in the least. Has anybody given her a true reason to think that way? What can they do to push her to give up something? Is it easier to refuse invitations and blame others for her failures, and suspect mal-intentioned plots fabricated in her own mind to justify her suspicion, groundless though it may be, so that she can be ready to say no? What is it with these people?
Good luck with all you do to keep her in check! Can you even talk to her about being honest and tell her that if she suspects we have evil intentions, she can be a mature adult and say, “sorry, no can do”?
Oh, I neglected to mention: Tomorrow is the Big Day!
I received word yesterday evening that my precious Gamaliel will be released! Too bad you aren’t here in Puerto Alvarado to share in our joy. Good luck to you in Guerrero, and have a fabulous time.
I cannot tell you enough how much your empathy and support means to me. Thank You!
My sweet, precious son is as good as free!
Too bad we couldn’t reunite for Christmas to celebrate Gamaliel’s freedom and new lease on life.
But, better days ahead, that is for sure.
If you ask me, they couldn’t get any worse!
Becky ~
So, the ways of simpletons make up the facts of life for most of us, and this is especially true of Mexico’s inhabitants. The seeds of hate are transplanted from one loving heart into another, and no one in Mexico seems notices the irony ... no one, I think, except Mr. San Roman!
THE DAYS PASS,
AND LIFE GOES ON
The hours passed slowly, and I heartily refused to face the moment when I had to vacate my hotel-room. But, I must, and had to, carry on, and would have to reunite with Becky eventually. I had involved myself too deeply in her domestic trauma to just up and disappear without a word. In either case, I honestly cared for their welfare, and was fond of both Becky and young Gamaliel; I always regarded him as a little brother, or at least a nephew. I hated to think about what he was going through given my own horror in jail, as well as the unique psychological and physical torments he was enduring for the present. How quaint the ways of paradox, though, and how gaily we mock common sense! I was presently dealing with a bitch of a mother, and imploring an angel accused of wickedness.
Perhaps Becky would be the first to negate her celestial qualities, but her suffering and sacrifices had gained my admiration. Nevertheless, her faith would be put to the test, and faced with circumstances that went against general belief. She had to dissect a difficult puzzle that led to a deeper truth; one which forced her to make amends with a contradictory life, which could only be false if it were true, and she was constantly having to deal with counter-intuitive people, including me. For the moment, she responded with much glee:
~ Primo, at last I can exclaim “Finally!” I am picking Gamaliel up from the Orizaba Carcel at 4pm.
I will fill you in with the details later on!!
Take care,
B ~
That was short and sweet, but she would soon have a disappointment: her beloved eldest son was not released like expected. As I traversed the winding, fecund hills of Oaxaca on my way to Puerto Escondido, I timorously scribbled my condolences for her big let-down:
~ Dear Becky, I am so, so sorry for your pain and disappointment. There are just no words to console you at this time, except to say that tomorrow is another day, and this legal processing bullshit is just a waste of time, so I hope you find the strength within you to keep going, put the disappointment behind you, and look forward to that better day.
Gamaliel is now possessed by Christ himself, crucified by injustice, but he will resurrect. He will be born again to a happier existence, and you all will come closer together a better and more unified family.
I am proba
bly the worst person to give such advice considering what a melancholy fellow I am, but even I feel, and want to believe, that no matter what shit happens to you, this time, Springtime, and a time for new resolve and returning hope, you should be able to put all the crap aside and be happy, to celebrate, to rejoice with your loved ones along with the rest of society at least for a few days, and renew your bonds with, and to each other.
It is a time for tradition, favorite customs, parties, and fond memories, as you well know.
Since we both shall be missing out on many of these festivities, the native Gelaguetza festival of these aboriginals especially, because of mean and selfish people who don’t care whose lives they ruin so long as their hatred is satisfied, I want to dedicate this music to you and your children since you, especially, have known and participated in such a tradition and understand the meaning of the songs. Enjoy, and our prayers and best wishes are with Gamaliel, as always.
(and so e-mailed her a couple of different songs)
Take care my good friend,
F ~
Frustration: Mexico be thy name! While I squirmed trying to find a hotel room in a town that did not match its reputation for colonial beauty or tropical delight, ingesting food that could hardly be digested, and dealing with local folk whom sadistically engaged in surreptitious transactions intended to dumbfound the honest visitor, my old friend was tearfully preparing to use legal force she never intended to use, while salvaging what semblance remained of her family, utterly devastated by this confrontation with justice. She responded, obviously quite disappointed with the situation:
~ Well, Primo, here I am, and here we go again. After waiting for three hours outside of the Orizaba Court, I get a phone call from Gamaliel, and he tells me that he did not get released today because they needed to clarify a warrant that he had, so he has to go to court again. I came back with all of my emotions destroyed, again. What the fuck is this? I pray it is only for a few more days that they hold him. The waiting game is wreaking havoc with my nerves.
A Wetback in Reverse Page 14