I just want a normal life.
Yesterday, I woke up feeling sick. I dismissed it as soon as I felt anything. There was too much to get done to dwell on any ailments.
So, I get weak ass out of bed and go to Claudia’s place to pick up the material to take to the tailors to make bridesmaids’ shawls. (Yes, the one that will be worn for about 10 minutes. For pictures.)
On the way there, I am desperately trying to find a Quiznos because I am starving. Plus, I have a coupon that I want to redeem. I don’t find one and, in my absolute desperation, I find myself at Whole Foods. I walk to the hot foods section and ask for a “small small” container of spaghetti. After I pick up some organic lemonade, I go to the cash registrar and my “small small” spaghetti is $7.50. I am shocked but try not to show it in front of all the shi shi poo poo customers who I bet are willing to pay $10 for a one Whole Food's meatball.
I walk outside and decide to eat on a bench outside. This construction worker comes and sits next to me and strikes up a conversation. Didn’t he see the book I was reading? Ugh… He tells me how he lives in Valencia and has to drive to different sites everyday, but how he likes his $1300 a month apartment, although it is too hot to live there. Ugh.. Leave me alone.
I am hoping that my meal will cure me, but by the time I get to Claudia’s place, I pass out on the floor. She gives me instruction as to what I have to do with the material for the shawls. Uh huh. She advises me to take some smelly black balls because there could possibly be something wrong with my digestion. I’ve smelled these nasty little balls in the past. They are disgusting and wretched enough to actually give you indigestion problems. I pass on her kind sisterly advice.
I watch her leave through the door and try really really hard to get myself up. “Come on Cristina. Today is not the day. Get up. Get up! I’m not messing…GET UP!!” So, I finally listen to myself and get up.
I drive to K- town where the tailor is located. There is an accident on the freeway and I am barely moving. All the while, I am so dizzy and oozy, that I am seeing stars circling above my head. I pray I make it in one piece.
When I get there, I call Claudia on the phone to confirm the price. She tells to “show” the tailor what to do with the material. Show an experienced, professional tailor how to cut out rectangles and stitch up the sides? “Dude,” I tell her back, “I think she knows what to do.” Her response, like a bride gone mad is: “I don’t care. My wedding is this Saturday. I don’t want there to be any mistakes. Tell the lady how to make the shawls.” She is starting to sound like a monster and I am scared.
So, I turn around and lay out the fabric on this oversized table and I lay the sample shawl Claudia has also provided on top of it. She looks at me with wide eyes and she huffs in her broken English, “I know how to make shawl.” Ugh.
As I am driving back, my aunt calls me. She and my four cousins are here from Korea for The wedding and have been touring California for a week. Their tour guides have brought them to Universal Studios for the day, but they’ve all been there before and don’t want to go back. So, now they are stranded in front of Universal Studios and want me to pick them up and entertain them. They remind me that they are having a hard time because they don't speak English. Ugh, the guilt. I don’t know what to say and I tell them to call me back in thirty minutes.
I call my mom at her store for advice. Should I go to Universal Studios? I promised Eun Hwa and Richard that I would go with them to pick grandma and grandpa up at the airport later. I am sick. She seems a little frustrated (which is NOT normal for my mom). She has no advice for me today. She says, “Cristina, you could figure it out. I am busy right now at work.” Ugh.
My mom is no help. I call Jason. What should I do? I am sick. He tells me to take it easy. “Hon, you are dehydrated and you need to drink fluids.” Ah, there is some hope. What a doctor. Didn’t even talk to him for more than three minutes and he gave me a diagnosis.
I drive back home and drink two bottles of water and a Gatorade and lie down for twenty minutes. I start to feel a little better.
I have to get ready to go to the airport. I get dressed and I am there at the airport by 5:35 to meet Eun Hwa and Richard. My grandparent’s plane is delayed by three hours. Yeah.
So, to pass time, we eat. I eat a MacDonald’s hamburger, fries, soft drink. Afterwards, I am still hungry, and have udon. For dessert, I get an apple pie and chocolate sundae. We’re still bored and we play silly games, like table soccer and who could break the happy meal toy. One game, they blindfold me with MacDonald’s napkins. I promise not to peek and they put items in my hand I guess them. Napkin. Cup. Richard’s hair. It is fun until Richard squirts ketchup in my hands. Then the games are over.
My grandparents finally arrive. My young fancy smancy grandmother comes walking through the gates about 30 steps ahead of my frail, 90 year old grandfather who is barely making it with his cane. I am not surprised by this sight, and I am sad that I am not surprised.
We get home and the annoyances begin. My grandfather asks why I don’t teach high school or college. He says, “You graduated from college. Why don’t you teach high school.” Ugh. Could it occur to him that I don’t want to. My grandma, who knows more about Chanel or Louis Vitton than me, goes on and on about my distant second cousin who is engaged to a “pretty, tall, skinny, fashion designer who drives a BMW.” “She once dated Park Chan Ho, “ she says like she is telling me a secret. Ugh. I sit. I smile. I think to myself how thankful I am that I have to sit and smile through their nonsense only once every couple of years.
I have had a hard day and all I want to do is see Jason, if not only for a little while. I drive to his place in K- town. I park my car on the corner of the street and, get this, I start hearing gun shots. Then, on the other side of the street, I see this guy running, all the while, ducking like he is dodging bullets. Then an old pale yellow car comes around the corner and he jumps in. I wish I didn’t see that. What am I suppose to do? Should I call the police? I dial 911 and hang up really quickly. I ask myself, “Do I really want to get involved? Do I really need this right now? Last time I called 911 after some pervert followed me while handling his member, I wasted an hour of my time for nothing. Was even asked to pick the perve from line up and they didn’t even catch the bastard. Do I want to stay up to give an account of something that I barely saw. All I would say is, ‘It all happened so fast, officer.’”
I just want a normal life.