My Racist Friend, Maria

 

 Same old doom and gloom in the news. The orange man didn't keel off the White House roof. It's kind of quiet actually. Nothing to report except Kristi may be having trouble finding ogres to round up brown people. One elderly woman who has lived here twenty years, who worked hard all these years suffered a heart attack after the goon squad went after her. The laughable Dean Cain is out there, too.

Anyway, I read a blip from the WH that 80,000 people applied for the job to be a walking human excrement. I wonder if they were ten year olds looking for a summer job? There's no age requirement now to dress up like GIJoe and make the rounds, which reminds me they were in Elgin, IL this week. I know Elgin. It's been awhile since I've been there. There's a large Latino community in Elgin. 

I met Maria when I was a sophomore at the affluent high school we attended with Buffys and Brads, our commonality being we lived on the shitty side of the tracks. She was funny, a smart ass chick who was never afraid to say what was on her mind. I loved that about her since I was the mouse in the corner, so hanging out with Maria was fun, until it got mean and ugly and sad.

We stayed in touch over the years. Back then we wrote snail mail letters. She moved back and forth from Texas to Illinois off and on. She never had a stable family home. In our last year of school I rode my bike over to her house for a sleepover. I had noticed throughout the years those wiseacre comments were becoming meaner and she seemed agitated. She started turning on me as well, making snide remarks or criticizing my appearance. We were watching a television show which featured some migrants working the fields around the country. I was stunned when she used a slur towards the screen and said they should go back to where they came from. This was from my friend who lived with her grandparents who spoke little English. Her grandfather blasted mariachi music and dinner always consisted of homemade tortillas that I would watch Maria make as they piled up to be eaten with rice and beans. I didn't understand her anger. Why did she think she deserved a better life and they didn't?

I distanced myself from her and didn't hear from her until I was newly married and busy renovating a home. She had gotten in touch with my mom and said she wanted to see me. So, I drove the long drive to Elgin to hopefully find the old friend I had once known. She was married but I could tell right away there was a lot of tension between the two. She complained about him to me as he stood listening silently, until he finally walked away. She had a new born child so I spent my time engaged with him while she went outside. She was gone for about ten minutes and when she came back she was grinning and pointing outside. She then said, "I just put sugar in his tank." 

For me, it was hard to fully digest what she had clearly said. And yet, I should have known better. What exactly was I expecting? She was the wise ass protector, mentor, friend, who now was dangerous and showing signs of mental illness. 

I did not hear from her for another fifteen years. It was easy to find me. My parents lived in the same house for forty years. She called me in the middle of the night, crying. She was stranded in the Mission District in San Francisco. As she wailed on the phone for help, she was also cursing at someone near by. I nearly hung up on her. I surely didn't need this and I was going through the wreckage of my own failed marriage and trying to raise a child on my own. Then she told me her thirteen year old daughter was with her, out on the streets with drug addicts and sex traffickers. I caved and I sent her bus money to come here. I warned her she had to keep a low profile because I was renting a run down, slowly sinking house from a slumlord who'd kick me out for any slight infraction. 

I realized once again, it was not going to work with her being here. On the car ride back from the bus station she was already berating me and whining that she regretted coming. That went both ways. The next day she wanted to go to a thrift store to get a few necessary items. She came out of the store with a transistor radio. When we got home she claimed she was being listened to by the government. Now I was angry at myself for being so stupid because there was nothing I could do to help her and I was afraid for my daughter for possibly putting her in harms way. Her daughter was the complete opposite of her mother. She was hauntingly beautiful and so sweet, I honestly didn't know what to do. Maria's ex had moved on and started a new family, so this doe eyed innocent girl had nothing but a mother who was clearly not well. 

The next morning I dreaded going to work and leaving them alone in the house but I had no choice. When I got home, the house was empty. Their bags were gone, with no note. Just gone. 

A few days later a neighbor asked me about an ambulance he'd seen at my house. Maria didn't have a phone at that time so I had no idea what had happened. A few nights later she finally called and said her daughter was ill so she had to call the paramedics. She said she had found someone who will help them so they didn't need my help. Even after all this bullshit I still wanted the best for her. She had been there for me so many times, but that was the other Maria, the one before the slurs, the slights and the broken mind. Before I could tell her I wish her well, she said, "My son thinks you're gay and always wanted me." Then she laughed. I ended the call and promised myself that was the end. I haven't heard from her or anything about her since, although when I was on Facebook years ago, I noticed her son, now grown was in his second marriage. He had written some weird angry comment about his life, blaming unknowns for his situation.

I've only thought about Maria these past few months, wondering if she's happy to see the worst of humanity prey upon brown people. I wonder if she's been stopped, searched, harassed or arrested? Does she finally comprehend what hate can do? 

I'm not even sure she is even around anymore. I hope her daughter had a better life. I still feel guilt and sadness that I could do nothing for her. 

In real time I think we are all reacting the way I witnessed my friend unravel. We see it, yet we are helpless. I have not yet come across an ICE agent. I hope I would have the courage to curse them out. I don't want to be a bystander to this. It's wrong. It is so very wrong.