CLEMENTINA TANG-CUADRADO enseña español e italiano en Long Island University. Se especiaiza en Literatura latinoamericana. Ella Ha publicado traducciones al español acerca del Jazz y su influencia afro-latinoamericana.

It’s a matter of respect

I DON’T KNOW how I allowed the situation to get this far. It all started because I felt they didn’t obey me, they didn’t mind me, they didn’t respect me,. I don’t know any better. I am old-fashioned, they would say. I was brought up in a family in which respect for the parents was very important. Now I was the head of the family, I could not expect any less. I had to do something. I fell on the cold and hard floor. At the beginning nobody seemed to pay much attention to the motionless body on the floor: they would step over or around it. I tried not to move a muscle. They continued fighting and listening to the loud music I could not stand even if my son said “it’s only on the first level “. Hours went by… or was it minutes? Not even that, maybe… seconds? I don’t know. I just know that some of them were looking at me, I could feel their hard looks, they were talking about me, and I heard somebody in the other room make a call. I thought finally I’m gonna be able to get up. I was beginning to feel a little stiff by remaining in the same position but suddenly the paramedics came and started to pick me up to take me some place. Was it to the hospital? I intended to open my eyes and get up and tell them there was nothing wrong with me, that it had been my last resort to get them to give me the respect I deserved. But how about the ridicule? Wouldn’t it be worse from now on? I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t too sure anymore. Initially I had thought it was a good idea, but now I was beginning to have mixed feelings. I felt the hands of the paramedics lifting me. What was happening? What happened after the paramedics lifted me from the floor? I was confused. From time to time I would hear very quiet and measured foot steps as if the persons knew what they were doing and how far to go. I was beginning to be afraid. There was too much silence. I didn’t hear my family or the music... I wasn’t even angry or hurt any more, everything seemed so dark, so cold, so quiet. Where were the children? the noise of the arguments and the music? that loud music that didn’t let me think? Why couldn’t I move my knees, my body? Why did I feel so stiff. Now my arm felt numb. I should have found a better solution. Maybe it was too late to do anything? Just thinking about my children’s laughters and the looks of pity from the neighbors when they found out made me keep still a little longer. I lay still, waiting to hear words of regret. Why couldn’t they respect me? I wouldn’t have had to appeal to this. I know I wasn’t an important person or had an important job like some other people in the neighborhood, but I brought them up without a father and without any help but that of my hard work, and there was also the matter of my duty and obligation as a good Catholic mother. If I didn’t educate them right how could they learn and expect the same from their children? I was old, tired and so was my heart Pretty soon I would die and how could I face the Lord? how could I tell Him I failed as a mother and I didn’t deserve His forgiveness? In the name of God I must continue with the decision made. Right or wrong, I had gone this far and must continue.The more I thought about it the more I convinced myself I had to hold on, to persevere. Wasn’t that the word I always used when one of the children said it was too difficult to do something? Perseverance, yes I must persevere for a little longer but…How long? I was getting tired, so tired I didn’t feel anything any more. I guess after a while you can get used to anything, anything but lack of respect; that no person, no mother should get used to, otherwise where is the dignity, the pride, the good upbringing your parents gave you and you had the obligation to pass on to your children? Wait… I think I hear something… No, it’s my imagination playing tricks on me... No, I do hear something! It sounds so far I have a hard time understanding the words.. I haven’t been hearing well lately, which has been cause for laughter for the kids. What was that word? …time?…fast?…year?… Oh, I guess they aren’t talking about me. I’ll keep on waiting for the right words of “we are sorry, things will change” and then I ‘ll get up. I think I’m falling asleep again. I’m too sleepy and tired to think … I’ve waited this long I may as well keep on waiting.