I was at the South Station Post Office this morning to mail my niece' journal. I bought her a hard cover journal with beautful sketch of banana tree on the cover. I stopped at Rosie's Bakery to get a cup of Chocolate Rasberry coffee. Hong and Rosana were working this morning. We chatted for a while. Both of them have an excellent customer service skill. Hong is a little heavy with her Vietnamese accent but she is a cheerful woman. Everybody who stops to get the coffee seems to know her.
After I finished my coffee I went to the bathroom. When I went to the sink, the cleaner was changing the paper towel. I remember her. When she looked into my direction our eyes met, I smiled at her, but she turned away quickly. If I remember her, how could she not remember me? We never talked but I saw her everyday when I was working at the cafe in South Station seven years ago.
Everytime I went to the bathroom I smiled or said hello to her. She never responded to my hello, just a little nod. We saw each other five days a week for the whole eight months I was working there.If she was with another cleaner, they would talk rapidly in Spanish, fired at each other like stone rain. If she was by herself she would wiping the mirror and mopping the floor, sour face.
Except for me who kept saying hello to her and her friend who was cleaning on the other side of building, I never seen anybody talked to her. She was invisible.
I wonder if she had a second or third job like most of immigrants from Latin and South America do. Since I have been here I've never met any of them who only holds one job. The people I used to work with at Mike's Deli- Ren, Jesi, Oda, Hector and Victor have a second job besides their full time job at the deli. Most of them work between 80-90 hours/week. There is not much time left for oneself. But I guess we got to do what we got to do.
After all these years she's still working at the South Station. Doesn't she get tired of cleaning after peoples' mess? She's probably have kids or family back in her country. Oda told me once, she sends $US600 every month to her family in Guatemala. Both of her daughters attend the university back in her country. How about your husband, I asked her. He is sick, she said. She showed me the new house her husband just bought from the money she's been sending.
She paid $US1,000 to a man who became her fake husband. They got divorced as soon after she got a green card.
Here she rented a two bedroom apartment with seven people to save the money.
I don't have time at home, why should I pay more for it, she said. She was right about that. But how about a privacy? Didn't she want some quiet time after 80 hours work? Didn't she need to lay down on the couch without anybody turn on the tv or play loud music? After all she worked 80 hours a week, she deserved every little luxury she had, I said.
I don't have time for myself. If I don't work hard here, my family will have a hard time. Our country is very poor she said. The price she has to pay.
CHINA BOY by Gus Lee
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