(a new paragraph for Junot Diaz' Drown
I decided to sleep in that morning. I didn't want to go in to work that day. The boss usually let it slide if I didn't show up for work on time. He let a lot slide.
Most of his employees stole from him. Never really anything big. Maybe just some batteries for their radios, maybe a few candy bars for their stomachs. One time I lifted a birthday card for my moms.
If I ran his business, if I were the boss, I wouldn't let shit like that happen, because it all adds up. A couple times, I almost recommended to him to install some video cameras for security, but I didn't. I didn't think he'd go for it. He would give me some excuse. No, I couldn't afford that, he'd say. Or, no, this is a grocery store, not spy surveillance, so we wouldn't need that. I think he was just afraid he would lose his workers.
I woke up at noon, my face stuck to the plastic sofa cover. I slept on the couch because I'd gotten in late last night. The floors in this old apartment, especially the hallway floor near the bedrooms, creak like a bastard, and I hadn't wanted to wake up moms. She needed a good night's sleep because she wasn't sleeping well lately. Talking to Papi on the phone a few nights ago had upset her. She wouldn't say how.
I just lied there awake for an hour or so, on the sofa, listening to the sounds from outside through the open window: traffic rushing, neighbors shouting greetings to one another. Words were lost in the sounds, but intentions were clear: the loud blare of horns followed by cursing at the double-parked cars, the street vendors selling their fresh fruits and vegetables. The couple downstairs was fighting again. Their window was open too, and I heard things crashing and breaking. The sounds of everyday life around here.
I decided then to quit the groceria. I'd been thinking about leaving that place for a while now, and it felt like now would be the best time to go.
I wouldn't have lasted much longer at this groceria anyways. It wasn't the pay, which was a far cry from what I'd once made dealing, and it wasn't enough to live on, but moms and I shared an apartment, so I got along. It was the hours that bothered me. And the jobs I had to do. I didn't have a regular schedule there; the boss had me fill in whenever someone called in sick, first or second shift, doing a different duty every day: one day I might be in the stock room, the next a cashier, the day after that, working behind the deli counter. No regularity to it. I'd had enough of that, and I decided not to go back.
After a shower and breakfast I left the apartment, jobless, out of the system. I walked my old beat through the neighborhood, past the crumbling walls and the cracking structures.
Hey Paco, I'd say, recognizing an old customer.
Yunior, you still dealin' here man?
Nah, I'd say.
I didn't think so man. The shit they're dealin' now is so weak, my bitch gets higher smokin' my cock. You should get back into it man.
Takin' a hiatus, Paco.
Shit man, this neighborhood needs a dealer who's stable, like you were. Stuck around for a while.
I moved on. I needed to get away from all the peeling paint and pitted pavement. I got on the first bus I saw.
My girlfriend had left me the other night. If you could call her a girlfriend. We'd gone out a few times. I was supposed to meet her for dinner at the restaurant that night, but she didn't show. Figured. Never had much luck holding on to the chicas for very long.
The bus was fairly empty for this time of day. I sat behind these two old gringos. One was explaining something with sweeping gestures. Earthquakes. They'd had another in California today.
Now everyone is wondering when the big one hits, he explained. My cousin, who lives out in the San Francisco area, is moving back here. She can't handle it anymore.
I wondered to myself what it was like to live through an earthquake. I didn't think I really wanted to know. The thought of the solid, stable ground in turmoil beneath me made me shudder.
The bus came to a stop, and I stepped out, planting me feet on the solid earth. I wasn't where I was, but it didn't really matter. The sky above was blue and the ground below clad in flawless stretches of concrete. As I walked along, I noticed that there's a lot more girls in this neighborhood, nice ones. I'd have to keep that in mind.
There were a lot of shops too, respectable looking ones. I stopped in front of the building with walls draped in one inch thick marble slabs. A sign was fastened to the corner of the window. HELP WANTED. I inquired within.
You need a strong back and a drivers license, he said. You show up on time in the morning, you get your work done and don't give me no shit, and you'll get a raise. You do a lousy job or break anything, it comes out of your pay. Back in your neighborhood maybe you shoot pool all night, but when you're punched in here, we call it billiards equipment, and there's no playing around. Comprende?
I took the job. This new boss wasn't half the pushover that the groceria owner was; I liked that.
My new billiards equipment delivery job took me all around the city. I even got to drive past the old groceria once in a while. About a month after I'd left, the place went out of business. A laundromat replaced it for almost a year. Then it became one more porn shop in that decrepit old neighborhood.
Copyright © 1999 to Adam Howard. All rights reserved.