Author: d.beadle

Despite how it may seem, living in a third-world country with limited opportunities for success did have its moments. Moving from Jamaica, the country to Jamaica, New York is ironic; each place is similar to the other in two ways: both are chaotic and clustered.

To this day, people still ask me what it’s like living in the United States. My answer will always remain the same: “It’s okay, I guess.” I’ve never really had a more enthusiastic answer; my feelings about moving here were bland, and they still are.

If I were still living in Jamaica, half the things I’ve accomplished here would have been impossible back home. Learning while earning money is something people my age dream about, especially girls. There are limited education and job opportunities for them, so they turn to the best solution they know – getting pregnant. In Jamaica, there is a stereotype about young women my age; they are said to finish high school (or not even to graduate!) and get pregnant by older men, men old enough to be their own fathers. These girls look to older men as an escape out of poverty.

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My best friend Tasana, 22, is currently dating a 45-year-old man and is completely happy. He asked her to move in with him, but she refused to do so, since she is not completely ready for that responsibility and life. My other friend Tasia, on the other hand, is 21 and is currently dating a 49-year-old man with whom she’s in love. She has her own apartment, and he visits her there while she plays the wife role. Bear in mind that he is already married with kids.

The summer before my junior semester, I decided to do recreational activities, go out more and meet new people. I must say this was fulfilling. After failing two classes, I need to get things off my mind. One day while on my way to work, I saw a guy in a drop top car with this Snapchat name on the windshield. I went ahead and added him. I must say this was one of the most meaningful friendships I have ever created. I know it’s weird; don’t judge me. His name was Dondre, attending Queens College for biology.

The first time we saw each other, he invited me to go to a barbeque with him, which I did. That same day I met his friends also. They were so cool and friendly. We didn’t spend much time at the barbeque anyways; they just went to eat and left. After the barbeque we decided to get some of my friends and chill. Well, they weren’t really my friends. It was my two cousins, Sherine and Quanne.

It was late – around 12 am going to 1, for making plans. First we decided to go bowling or go-carting, but they were both closed. We then decided to go to a party. Upon arrival my cousins didn’t want to go in because they said it sounded boring, so then we were on to plan number 3. We decided to get a motel room, drinks and just hang out there until. After all we were in pairs.

Me and Dondre, proceeded first to get the room. After we went, my cousin and his friend came. Suddenly we heard the phone ring, I answered.

“Hello hello” in an Indian accented voice, “How many people are in the room?”
We got scared as hell; I responded saying it’s my friends. He said that no more people are allowed in the room and banged it.

Then I called my other cousin Sherine and said, enter from the back because the receptionist is acting like a bitch. After she entered the room, the phone rang again. Everyone started looking at each other, laughing in seriousness. Dondre answered.

“Get out, ya’ll lied to me. I said no more people.” We immediately got out, and Dondre went and got his refund.

Now it was probably around 2am, nothing to do, summer night and we’re all bored. Then suddenly, one of Dondre’s friend, Troy, decided we can go his house. These guys do not mind driving for long hours. They have been driving for almost 6 hours without complaining, even when I was being sympathetic saying take us home, they refused.

Moving to America wasn’t as exciting as I thought it would be. Seeing my mom cry as I left the airport was one of the most heartbreaking moments I’ve ever encountered in my life. She has been a figure of passion, love and advocacy all through my life. The person who cared for me the most and who hid her problems to take care of mine was finally leaving my side.

My mind raced — what would I do without her now. She did everything for me, including any regular teenager chores. What would I do without her? Even when I didn’t realize it, my mother was and always will be my backbone. This is the woman that brought me years of consistent education so I could pursue what I love. The woman who trusted me to go partying after years of keeping me hostage. And seeing her fall apart and tell me “its okay, I love you” as she tried to stop crying made my heart break into a thousand pieces. I felt small and powerless as there was nothing I could’ve done. It’s like watching the happiest person you know break down in a fit of emotions, its something you’ve never seen or ever thought of before. It just seems unfathomable.

Question:
1) Is it ok to be repetitive in my words? For example, I mentioned “What would I do without her” twice