by Jeff Rivera
“I figured it was none of my business. That’s all.”
“Well, it was sweet of you.”
She paused for a while, not sure exactly how to say what she needed to say. “Unfortunately, not all the men I’ve been around were so sweet. My lack of judgment has been awful. My mother used to get on me, picking all these losers and stuff. Men used to do awful things to me. Awful things,” she said.
Dio knew what she was trying to tell him without her saying it.
“Your husband do that to you?”
She tried to laugh it off. “You’d think a college-educated gal would have more sense. You do me a favor. Promise me something.”
“Sure. What?”
“You always treat that girl of yours good. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And . . . you give that mom of yours another chance.”
“What?”
“We all make mistakes, Dio. Believe me. And sometimes, well, parents always do the best they know how. Sometimes they make mistakes; Lord knows I have. Just give her one more chance. See what she wants. She do you wrong again, then you have every right to be mad. Do that for me, will you?”
Dio wouldn’t look at her.
“Please?”
Chapter Five
Dear Dio,
I don’t have a recent photo but here’s a photo from about a year ago with me and you together. I don’t think you’d even want to see me right now. I don’t look like my old self. I’m gaining so much weight lately and I don’t feel like my old self either. I’m trying to stay up I really am. But sometimes it’s such a struggle. I mean I’ve always been the person who’s lifted everybody else’s spirits up. And now I’ve got to lift mine. I don’t want people to see me like this. Lo odio. And I’m sick and tired of the looks of sympathy on everyone’s faces. They try to fake it, like I look normal like things are the same but they’re not. I try not to let them see how triste I’ve been. I don’t want them to see me like this and it takes so much energy to fake it, to force a smile. I’m tired of the visitors and I’m tired of my mom bringing people over from the iglesia. All they do is tell me the same scriptures over and over again about the “tiempos finales” and how things will be better in “el reino de Dios.”
I told my mom I just want to be solita, but she doesn’t seem to listen and I don’t want to be rude to them. I feel like I’m trapped in this bed Dio. I feel like I’m in the pinta. I feel like even though I could physically get up and leave and I know I could that I can’t. That I’m emotionally trapped. And I want to get out.
I want to be myself. Quiero cantar otra vez. I’ve stopped watching Entertainment Tonight Dio, and you know that’s my favorite show. You know why? Cause every time I watch it and I see some star on there and they’re doing so great and they’ve got the perfect hair and the perfect smile and they’re on the red carpet and they have some new album or new movie coming out I just can’t help but think, “that’s supposed to be me.” And I want it so bad Dio. I want to be there and I know I can but I feel so trapped and I don’t know how to get there.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get better, if I’ll ever be back to where I was. It seems so far away. The social worker comes over, his name is Angel. He always gets me laughing. And I hate it cause as soon as he’s gone like an hour later my mom does something that pisses me off, or I just get this huge wave of doubt that hits me like a thick cloud and I’m back to where I was. I hate being lifted up and then I’m just dropped and it takes so much effort to just be lifted up again and for what? I’m just going to be dropped again? That’s how I feel.
You know today is the anniversary of Marvin Gaye’s death, April Fool’s Day. Did you know that? I saw it on the news. I’m glad you introduced me to him. I’ve been reading about him lately. He left such a mark, and he felt so triste all the time. I wonder if he knew he was a legend or if he knew he’d make that much of an impact. It’s funny sometimes people don’t appreciate you until you’re gone. I wonder if they’ll appreciate me when I’m gone.
I just don’t want to leave this earth without making a mark. I’ve got so much to tell Dio. I’ve got so much to say. I want to scream it out but sometimes it feels so hard and I feel like I’ll never get there.
I’m sorry. I don’t want to depress you. It’s just you’re the only one I can tell this kind of thing to. You’re the only one I can be myself to all the time. I don’t have to be perfect with you. I don’t have to be up. I can be real. I can be me.
Thank you,
Love,
Jennifer
He hated to hear Jennifer down like that. She was right; it wasn’t like her. It must have been the medications that were doing something to her mood. He wanted to be there right then to just hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. He wanted to tell her all the exciting things that were happening, all the changes that were happening to him in camp. He was only a few months away from graduating and Senior Jackson had even given him the responsibility for laundry duty. Any other person outside the camp would have considered it a chore, but everyone in camp knew it was a privilege. He chose Dio out of the whole squad because he said he “needed someone responsible.” Dio had never been trusted with anything before, and he was on cloud nine supervising everyone with the laundry.
Something occurred to Dio . . . Grossaint. Something was troubling him about Grossaint and he couldn’t put his finger on it. True, he had to supervise him and he didn’t seem all that pleased lately. He seemed very quiet, avoiding eye contact with Dio, but always picking on Simon whenever he got a chance.
Dio couldn’t always be there to protect Simon; that he knew for sure. And Simon was actually starting to get some cojones. But Simon always followed Dio around, everywhere he went. He was like a mini-Dio, really. He mimicked everything Dio did, how he said things, how he walked. He was like a little dog that would bark at all the big dogs, but only if his owner was around; otherwise Simon was defenseless.
Dio didn’t mind sticking up for Simon, but he knew Simon had to learn to do things on his own. In just a few short months they were going to be graduating and they might never see each other again; then what would Simon do?
Dio stared at the picture she had sent him for hours. He rubbed his thumb over her picture, kissed it, imagined a million scenarios. They made a good-looking couple, everyone had always told them. They were like two peas in a pod, always inseparable, and it tore his heart out to be away from her for this long.
Dear Jennifer,
Baby don’t let the world get you down, OK? You got to know who you are adentro. I know. I know you’re going to be the biggest singer there is. I know you’re going to be huge. I know you’ve got more talent in your pinky than most those stars have in their whole cuerpo.
All that’s not real anyway. That’s all smoke and mirrors. It’s all makeup and lighting and suped-up, over-produced tracks, synthesizers and shit. That’s what it is. Without their professional beats and production they sound like shit. And you’re real. That’s why you’re going to be huge. You got heart and people are going to feel it. They’ll feel it like I feel it. Like I’ve always felt it.
Don’t ever talk about muriendo. If anything ever happened to you I don’t know what I’d do. I’d pull some Romeo & Juliet shit I know. I can’t bear thinking what it’d be like with you not around. We’re meant to be juntos baby. Better than Romeo & Juliet. Better than any of those guys. Te amo. And as soon as I get out I’m going to buy you the biggest bouquet of flowers and I’m getting you candy and I’m getting you a shopping spree and all that shit. I don’t know how, but if I have to work at fuckin’ McCaca’s night and day I’m turning both our lives around. Don’t you let anybody knock you down cause you eres mi inspiración. You’re my love.
You lift me up without even trying. I just think about your smile and damn girl it just lights me up. Nobody does that like you to me. Nobody.
You’re going to make your mark just like Marvin Ga
ye did. You’re going to be bigger than him. I know it.
Just hold on baby, I’ll be back before you know it. And keep writing me as much as you can cause you lift me up. Every time I get a letter from you it just picks up my day. The homies always know whenever you’ve written me because I’ve got a permanent grin on my face for the whole day. Man I can’t wait to see you.
I love you baby. I miss you.
Love,
Dio
Simon and Dio spent most their free time talking about music, talking about Simon’s dreams of becoming a drummer for a rock star, about how he dreamed of being in an MTV video just so his parents could see. Simon would pound out a dope beat and Dio would free-flow, usually something funny to crack them both up.
“My stepbrothers would be so jealous if I got on MTV,” Simon said, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. “Man, I can see their faces for sure. Mark my words, Dio, I’ll be famous one day. One day I’ll be so big, nobody will forget me. I’ll be so big, my parents won’t even be able to get in to meet me.”
“Excuse me,” Dio said, mimicking a nasal voice. “Excuse me, I’d like to speak to Mr. Danny Simon, please.”
“I’m sorry,” Simon kidded, pretending he was a secretary, “Mr. Simon is unavailable at this moment. Can I take a message?”
“This is his father.”
“Mr. Simon says he’d love to speak to you, but he’s . . . too busy partying with Oprah and Donald Trump and the hoochie girls from P. Diddy’s video.”
They busted out laughing.
“That what you want? To be too busy for your parents?”
“Would serve them right, don’t you think?”
Dio shrugged. “I guess so. But one day you’re going to inherit all that money, man.”
“Who cares about the fucking money, man?” Simon said. “I’d rather be on the streets than accept any of it if it makes me the kind of people my parents are: looking down on people, never coming home at night, always in the office. I don’t want nothing to do with it. Least your mom wants you. Only time anyone’s ever been nice to me is ’cause they thought I had money.”
“Nah, man. I’m not like that. I don’t give a fuck about your money.”
Dio thought a while. Maybe Simon didn’t have it made after all, always having people like him just for what he had. Dio knew what it was like to have nice things. Drug money did good things for him and his family, but he couldn’t help but resent all the moochers who would come around whenever he had it. It never felt real. The only people who always treated him the same were Jennifer, his little brother, and, of course, Spooky, who had more money than he did.
It didn’t make sense, any of it. Why was somebody like Simon in camp? What could he possibly have done?
“Hey, man, look!” Grossaint said, showing Franklin and his boys a letter. Coffee was curled up right next to him.
Dio rolled his eyes at them. He wondered what they were getting so excited about.
“Mike found my sisters, Joy and Rachel! Haven’t found Terry yet, but . . .” Grossaint said, probably the happiest Dio had ever seen him.
“Really?” Franklin said.
“Yeah, man. Soon as I get out of here we’re all getting together.”
“Dude, that’s great,” Franklin said sadly. “You’re lucky. I’m happy for you.”
Then he started crying, actually crying. Dio wondered why. He never had taken the time to get to know Franklin. Why would he? Franklin wanted nothing to do with him. All he could piece together from bits and pieces of conversations he had overheard was that somehow Franklin’s only brother had been killed when his father beat him to a pulp in some drugged-up rage.
“’Snot right what parents do to kids,” Grossaint said. “And the government don’t do nothing about it. They break up perfectly good families just ’cause their parents might do a little drinking, just ’cause they might be a little poor. They’d never do it to some rich family.”
This was a whole other side of Grossaint that Dio hadn’t seen before—feelings, compassion. He actually cared about people. Dio often wondered whether, if he were white or if Grossaint were Mexican, maybe they could have been friends.
Franklin started bawling like crazy.
“It’s all right, dude. You’re all right, man,” Grossaint said, soothing his friend. “Listen, you can look me up any time once we get out, you hear? Any time. I want you to meet everyone.”
Grossaint noticed Dio staring and glared at him.
“You get all that work done?” Jackson asked Dio.
“Sir, yes, sir. Just have to finish one more bag of laundry.”
“Good. Good. How’s that girl of yours doing?”
“Sir, she’s all right, sir,” Dio answered. “A little down ’cause of all the medications and things.”
“Yeah, that’ll do that to ya.”
Dio sensed that something was bothering Jackson and he just didn’t seem to know how to say it.
“Whatcha going to do when you get out?” Jackson asked.
“Sir, get a job, I guess, sir. Provide for mi amor.”
“That’s good. What kind of job you thinking about?”
“Sir, not really sure, sir. Anything, to start. Been talking to Louise about doing something with art.”
“Art? You can make a living doing art?”
“Sir, don’t know, sir. Just a thought, sir.”
“Well, if you’re going to be an artist . . .”
Here come the lectures.
Dio felt like rolling his eyes. Jackson always tried to give advice; he just never was any good at it.
“You want to make sure you got something tangible behind you if you wanna provide for that girl of yours. You make sure you spend enough time with her. Women need that sort of thing. Just make sure you hold her, and you tell her you love her every day. They start to circumlocute if you don’t do those sorts of things. What is circumlocute, trainee?”
“Sir, like, go away, stray, take off, or something like that, sir?”
“That’s correct.”
“Sir, is that what happened with you, sir? Did your wife—?”
“My wife? Which one?” He laughed. “Now, this has nothing to do with me. I’m just telling you from . . . I’ve seen these things happen. You hear?”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
God, he wished he could get out of there.
This lecture was going to go on forever.
“Now if that’s your dream to go and be an artist, you ought to go for it. That’s your dream; you go on for it and don’t let nobody stop you. Just make sure you get an education behind you. That’s all I say. Tried to tell my son that.”
“Sir, your son, sir?”
“Yep.”
“Sir, did he listen, sir?”
“Well, started to. But sometimes things don’t work out exactly how we want them to.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“He always was a hardheaded boy. Always had his head in the clouds. I guess if that makes ya happy, nothing wrong with that. Only get one chance at this life; might as well live the life we want.”
“Sir, yes, sir. What’s he do now, sir?
“He don’t do nothing. He’s dead.”
Dio felt like a semi had hit him. He had had no idea.
“Sir, why’s he . . . ? How’d he die, sir?”
“He . . . ain’t none of your business. You just get on doing what you were doing.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
Dio watched Jackson make his way out of the laundry room. He always seemed like such a confident man, but watching him there . . . he seemed like a man lost and alone.
Dio wondered what Senior Jackson did at night. Who did he go home to? What was he like after work? Did he have a lady or was he stuck home alone most nights watching TV and eating Chinese food?
Dio hated the thought of that. He hated thinking that could end up happening to him one day. He hated being alone, always had.
It was kind of strange: A
few months ago Dio couldn’t stand anybody at the camp, and now everyone was like his family. Louise was like his mother or aunt or something. Simon was like his little brother, and the rest of the guys at the camp were like cousins. Even Senior Jackson was kind of like his father.
Dio thought about the promise he had made to Louise. Giving his mother another chance seemed to be stupid. He loved his mom. There was no doubt about that, but she had done so many hateful, awful things to him as a kid, and he didn’t know how to forgive her anymore.
Grossaint looked like he was going to cry. Everyone did, really, as the entire squad stood in front of the main gate looking at Coffee’s dead body. Somehow she had gotten out and been hit by a car.
Dio hated that bratty little dog, but part of him loved her, too. It was sad, real sad.
“Well, we ought to get it off the road,” Jackson said.
“Sir, Trainee Grossaint requests permission to speak, sir.”
“Go ahead.”
“Sir, how’d she get out, sir? We double-lock the gates all the time.”
“Well, somebody was careless, that’s for sure. Sometimes things happen, Grossaint. Things happen. Come on, now; help me. Simon, Franklin, let’s go.”
They all put on latex gloves and lifted her. Grossaint looked numb.
“Sorry about Coffee,” Franklin said.
“Shit happens,” Simon said. “Sometimes, shit happens.”
Grossaint looked at him suspiciously.
“Right, Grossaint?” he added.
Dear Dio,
Thank you so much for your letter and the flowers you had sent from Vegas Flower Express. How’d you pull that off? It really lifted my spirits so much. It meant the world to me. You always know what to say to cheer me up. And you speak from the heart. It really shows in your writing.
Dio smelled the letter; it radiated her scent. He held it close, like it was her that he was holding, as he hid under his blanket, reading it with his flashlight.
Sorry I took so long to write back but a lots been going on here. Just know that I believe in you too Dio.
I know something good’s going to happen to us.