Trust Me
Jan 9, 2023 21:41:07 GMT -5
Post by Radrook Admin on Jan 9, 2023 21:41:07 GMT -5
Memory 12: Hold on and Trust me!
At the time of this incident, we were living at the Christopher Columbus Homes Public Housing projects in Newark New Jersey, where one could never be sure when the elevator would be out of order or malfunctioning in some totally unpredictable way. For example, if you got in, there was no guarantee that the door would open to let you out. In that case, someone needed to open the door from the outside or if the elevator refused to stop on your floor, you had to get off on another another floor as my parents did while loaded with groceries.
To make matters worse, there was no guarantee that the stairwells would be lighted. So it wasn't surprising, that late afternoon, when the elevator door refused to open on the 11th floor, and my parents, who were carrying grocery bags, were forced to get off on the twelfth floor instead, neither was the condition in which they found the stairwell surprising.
Now, from the twelfth floor, there were two ways to get down to our apartment on the eleventh. One was to use the stairwell at the end of the long hallway. The other was to take the stairwell next to the elevator and walk towards the apartment on the eleventh floor. In either case the distance was identical. Unfortunately, my parents chose to walk the length of the hallway on the 12th floor in order to use the stairway that lead directly next to our apartment door on the 11th.
Nothing unusual. A totally logical decision, except that they found that the stairwell leading to our apartment was pitch-dark. This made my mother hesitate for fear of falling.
“I think we should go back and take the other stairwell which is lighted! Here we might stumble in the dark and fall,” she said in a worried tone of voice.
“What?" my father responded while staring incredulously at her wide-mouthed, as he always did whenever he felt that she, or anyone else was suggesting something that he deemed absurd.
"After I’m already here? Just a few feet away from our doorway downstairs? With all these groceries? No way I’m going to lug all these groceries all the way back down that long hallway when I am just a few feet from my apartment-door downstairs!"
"But we might trip and fall!" she objected, hoping that he would appreciate her logic and agree.
"Just hold on tightly to my arm. I will make sure that we don’t fall.” he responded confidently.
Well, after haggling over it a few moments more, she finally went along with his suggestion. The hallway-door behind them slammed shut, and everything became pitch-dark, as they began cautiously inching their way toward the steps. As my father groped for the stairwell handrail to his right, in order to guide him down and give him stability my mother suddenly noticed something disturbing:
“This floor is wet, and slippery!" she announced in a tremulous, fearful voice.
“Don’t worry about the wetness and the slipping." my father responded confidently. “Just hold on tightly to my arm, and I will get you down safely!"
“We are going to slip Hipolito!” she insisted as one of her high-heeled shoes suddenly lost traction, and she was forced to brace herself by grabbing his arm with her free hand even tighter.
“Listen!" he said while holding onto the handrail and with his feet planted just a few inches short of the descending steps, " How many times have you seen me lose my balance? Eh? Have you ever seen me lose my balance and fall on slippery ice?” my father immediately shot back.
No, this was definitely not an idle boast. He was 100% right. You see, he never had lost his balance on slippery, ice, and we had indeed repeatedly observed in awe as he would totter at all kinds of weird angles and always manage to remain standing even while being buffeted from all directions by wind-driven snow.
"Ave Maria!" ["Hail Mary!"] "Muchacho! How did you do that?" my mom would always reverently ask with a awed expression on her rotund, East Asian like face, and he, in return, would remain silently proud of his accomplishment as we continued heading home.
“Bueno, yes, you are right," she finally admitted in the stairwell darkness, after recalling all those impressive, almost supernatural, balance-demonstrations during extremely inclement weather when my father had seemed totally impervious to gravity.
"You are right. I have never seen you lose your balance on ice. But don't you think that-"
“But don't I think nothing!" he shot back immediately, " There is absolutely no difference here! Why don’t you trust me? I assure you, that if you hold onto my arm tightly, you are perfectly safe. Chica! We are we wasting time?”
“But are you sure we aren’t going to fall, Hipolito?” she responded nervously.
"You still are not listening to me, right?" the argument continued in the total darkness. " As I just said! I never fall. Just trust my balance, and hold on tight! OK? Is that too much for me to ask of you? Is it? Eh? Is it?”
“OK I am going to trust your exceptional balance because you promised that we are not going to fall, and I trust your word! That's the only reason, because I trust your word.” she responded, sounding as if she was referring to some infallible, messianic figure.
“As I said, nothing to worry about!" he pontificated. "Just hold on tightly, and remember, no matter what happens, or what you feel me doing, do not let go of my arm. What did I just say?” he asked patiently, in order to make absolutely certain that she had perfectly understood his instructions.
“You said don't let go of your arm no matter what happens or whatever I feel you doing." she obediently responded as if she had been considering his word sacrosanct.
"Exactly!" he said confidently as an added reassurance.
With that, they cautiously approached the edge of the steps. She had her free right arm wrapped tightly around his left arm in a death-grip, while cradling the grocery bags with her left. Meanwhile his right arm was extended in order to grip the stairway hand-railings, grocery bags cradled by his left arm.
Now, just as he had fervently assured her, his first two steps were secure, while my mom kept slipping in her high heeled shoes and yelling out, "We are going to fall!" and holding on tighter to her only means of salvation, when suddenly, my father's footing gave way "Ostra!" He yelled as he suddenly began descending into the slimy darkness taking her along still hanging confidently onto his arm as he had instructed her to do straight down towards the wet stairway platform below.
His words as he lost his balance were had been a Neutral: “La Ostra!" But her words as she finally realized that they were definitely on their way towards the floor were: “Tu madre!" ["Your mother!"] Of course, the groceries went flying all over the place.
Now, I had been watching TV in the living room when I heard what sounded like an explosion in the stairwell near apartment door and had suddenly heard a commotion. That was followed by the frantic pounding on the door with my mom cursing and my father cursing as well in order to assure her that he was also suffering severely from the incident.
They both entered, stood flustered by the apartment door in the living room, and had a heated conversation involving my mother effusively hurling invectives while my dad stood there sheepishly and silently absorbing all the accusations. But he did finally decide to speak up:
"When you felt that I was was falling, why didn’t you release my arm?" he calmly asked as if totally oblivious to all the previous instructions that he had given her.
After a moment's silence, during which she directed eye-daggers at him, she finally responded. “Because you told me clearly that no matter what happened, I was to hold on to you, and I trusted you." she said blinking rapidly in confusion as he stood frowning at her suspiciously with and incredulous look on his pale, pug-nosed face. After tightly pursing his thin lips in disapproval while slightly shaking his head slowly, he responded with:
“I didn't mean that if you felt me falling you should go down with me! You know? You didn't know that I didn't mean that? That's the strange way that you understood what I said? Ha! Ha! Ha! Hay virgen!" he said, shaking his head more vigorously as if totally unable to comprehend how someone could ever reach such an absurd conclusion.
After staring at him incredulously for a few seconds as if trying to decipher some totally unsolvable puzzle, she responded with:
"You told me repeatedly, and very clearly, that it was impossible for you to fall! Didn’t you, Hipolito? Didn't you? Told me to have faith in your balance. Remember?"
“Well, yes, that is true, that is what I said! But when I started falling, did you know that I was falling?" he responded squinting one small, dark suspicious eye at her.
“Yes, I felt that you were falling, but you said...
“Entonces, caso cerrado!" ["Then case closed!"] my father announced confidently and began walking away.
“Case closed, huh?" she asked, as she gave him her customary up-and-down, sizing-him-up look. “Just like that? Right? You were the one who insisted on using those dark, and slippery stairways, not me! I told you repeatedly, but since you are a cabeza de hierro,[literally: an iron head] you didn’t listen-right? You know what? Now you are the one whose going to fetch those groceries in that dark, wet hallway, because I am not! Or else there is no dinner." she added as an incentive.
Of course he wanted to eat dinner and calmly took care of the task with no complaints.