She picked up a pink and green embroidered blazer with sequins.
“Get this and tell Carlos I made you buy it!” I would have bought it too, but it wasn’t gathered in the small of the back how I like my jackets. That shit was too Golden Girls, even for me. When in Rose Nilan country, do as Rose would- so instead I bought a see-through black flapper dress and red candy drop earrings. My homie bought cashmere sweaters and a broken brass necklace. Though we were lamenting our depression over our forked road careers, we are not so sad that we cold not enjoy accessories.
We drove down Lake St. on a slushie of a street – I spotted the Mexican and Ethiopian food and paycheck joints. The buildings are lovely brick and white wood framed. There are rows of casitas with enclosed porches, galoshes at the front door, and oval shaped verandas. Who said Minnesota isn’t pretty?
We had ourselves a meaty Tibetan meal in Minneapolis. We were in a flurry of snowglobe snow and baby hail, taking sips of straight up martinis and pink rum. My friend goes, “I want more olives, girl. I’m so pushy. I always ask for too much.”
She popped another olive and said law school took her spirit. “Snatch that shit back, girl! It’s just that it’s not spring here yet,” I said, “Just wait until the blossoms come. Then see what you want to do next. Look at me girl, I was semi semi suicidal like a month ago and now, I’m in love. Wait til the rain breaks.” Falling in love put a stopper on my depression- that and my face was experiencing dryness from all the crying. I’m currently spreading the tears over my life, like maple butter, instead of freezing it into a hard rectangle of margarine over my lungs. Self-generated sorrow not withstanding, academia can really grind the soul out of anyone, especially students of color. School can convince us that we are not good enough and neither is our English, when in fact, we, the immigrants and refugees running from our own families and bullets, are the best chance we’ve got. Her Hmong family that keeps no secrets, and mine the Mexicanos who write them into thirsty songs.
The hail got bigger- more wind swept through and our old novio talk faded. We left. Nos despedimos. I offered to fix her necklace. “I’ll mail it to you, nerd. Send me the pictures from yesterday. Come and visit me soon.” Some viejos take lifetimes to get over. I can’t wait that long to drive home.
