by Debra Diaz
Gloria:
María del Veracruzano
It is the middle of the night and Carmen wakes
me up. "Levántate, I need you to drive me to the
cantina."
I am furious because ever since I bought my
1964 Mustang with the money I earned working as
a cashier at the Mandarin Kitchen, I’ve become the
family chauffeur.
"Jesus Christ, why do we have to go now?" I
ask.
"Just get dressed, we have to go. Hurry up!"
I dress, and soon we are driving the few blocks
to the cantina. I don’t ask what this is about,
because I already know. Ever since Dad got out of
the County Farm and started working nights at El
Veracruzano, Carmen’s been acting really weird.
She gets all worked up and then asks me to take her
out looking for Dad. I want to say no, but for some
reason I just can’t.
As we approach the bar, we hear music blaring
out the front door. Men drift outside to smoke and
hang out. I park directly in front of the bar, and
Carmen jumps out of the car.
"Stay here and lock the doors," she says. She
enters the bar and I lose sight of her in the crowd.
I look around me. The streets are empty. The
men near the entrance stare at me. I want to throw
their looks back at them, but instead I avoid their
gaze.
Suddenly I hear a scream, followed by cursing
in both English and Spanish. Men stream out of the
double doors. I see Chueco, the bartender, dragging
a struggling Carmen out the door. She jerks away
from his hold and runs back in. Another scream. I
jump out of the car and into the crowded entrance.
"¡Puta, pinche cabrona! I’m going to kill you!" I
hear Carmen shout. I squirm into the doorway and
what I see amazes me.
Carmen and the barmaid are on the ground.
Carmen holds the woman’s red bubble wig in one
hand and with the other holds her down by the
throat. She tosses the wig onto the bar and then
grabs the woman’s hair. The barmaid squirms away,
but Carmen chases her through the bar and into the
bathroom. The barmaid locks the door and Carmen
pounds on it.
"¡Sal de ahí, puta! Come out now!" she yells.
Dad grabs Carmen and pulls her outside, kicking
and screaming. I see him walk her around the
back of the building, trying to calm her down.
My Tío Jessie walks out of the bar and towards
me.
"What are you doing here?"
"I drove Carmen here."
"Come on, get back in the car. I’ll follow you
back home," he says. Carmen continues to curse in
the background.
"Okay," I answer, somewhat relieved.
I drive back to the house, and Tío Jessie follows
me to make sure I get in all right. About an hour
and a half later, I hear a car door slam and Carmen
enters the house. I hear the car drive away. I try to
fall asleep.
The next morning, Carmen cooks breakfast like
nothing has happened. I look out the window—one
sure way to know if Dad came home or not. The car
is there. But barely. Sitting on its rims, all four tires
are shredded. I wonder if it’s Dad’s recklessness or
Carmen’s anger. Either way, I guess it doesn’t matter.
She found him and they made it home.
To read the next chapter of THE RED CAMP, click here…
(THE RED CAMP is reprinted with permission from the publisher of The Red Camp by Debra Diaz (University of Houston – Arte Público Press, 1996) to buy a copy of THE RED CAMP, go to their website at http://www.arte.uh.edu/view_book.aspx?isbn=1558851690)