When a Third World Came West: Segment 32

I was kicking my boots against the puddles that were accumulating under the store awnings of Siegel’s clothing on Park Avenue.  My mother and I had barely said many words to each other lately and we’d gotten back from her church.  I’d been helping. I did most things half-way in, half-way thinking about Sam nowadays.  Like the youth group I’d helped out with our church.  Some of her friends were there to help dish out the maccaroni salad onto styrofoam bowls and another friend of her’s to ladel out soup.  I moved around the butler pantry metal tables trying to spread out the bowls in a line or put the plastic forks in a heap by the fridge for the kids.  But the older ladies kept disorganizing my stuff to make it more convenient for eating.  Couldn’t I be of help to anyone?  Today after i’d spoken with the the head filing secertary at Lynx she’d told me that I’d done a great job getting rid of junk information in the bus drivers’ files.  I asked her what could be left out and what needed to be left in and she told me that she’d leave that to my good discretion.  So I started taking out doubles of everything, like copys of their drivers’ lisences or proof that they were American citizens.  I made sure to keep a double copy of an updated drivers’ lisence and looked for material that incriminating or susbtantial.  I wished someone would do this for Sam.  Even though we were married we had so much red tape to get through before we could count on him staying here for good.  Most of it was gonna have to be done with the both of us together, taking time off of work, time away from saving up money.  One time we went out to this far away place, past the John Young Parkway in west, west Orlando.  When we drove up it looked like a building that was built in Disney World because of the way it was old in a modern way.  Like something from Tomorrow Land. We crowded in next to seventy-five people all speaking broken English and being pushed away and pointed to sit down by bored looking security personnel.

I was hiding out behind the Cigarz shop next to the fountain where they’d built a tea shop in a small hideaway that looked like a lodge bunker up north.  It was drizzling more now and I kicked at the water in the rivets of the brick cracks near the iron bench I was curled up on.  My mom had found out through the secretary in the county clerks office that I had gotten married when she filed away the month’s marriage certificates and had come across my last name.  When she immediately came up after work to my father’s office on the 17th floor to say congratulations to the good news he didn’t have the words to say stuff back.

 

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