Happy New Year

It was 2 a.m. on my 14th New Year’s Eve and I was in my room, drawing graffiti pieces in my black book, frustrated that I wasn’t better than what I was. All my friends were celebrating with their family. The festivities in my own home turned out to lame and had died down soon after midnight. My cousin Junior had let himself in my house and peek his head inside my room. He looked fucked up. I knew very well that he had a high tolerance for substances, so I knew he had been going at it hard by the way he looked.

What’s up, kid? What you’re doing? Drawing some graffiti joints?

I was always a bit of an asshole when it came to stupid, obvious questions like this one. I didn’t even bother up to look up to acknowledge him.

Yeah.

Get dressed. We’re going out.

I looked up, curious. My relationship with Junior was confined to the house and our street. We rarely went out the block together.

Where are we going?

We’re going to rob a motherfucker!

What?

You heard me. We’re going to do some vamping, kid! I’m going to teach you how to vamp.

I’ll teach you how to fucking vamp! This dude must really be fucked up! I kept my thoughts to myself.

It’s too cold out. I don’t want to go out.

Get dressed, Junior ordered me with attitude.

Junior was unpredictable and violent.  I knew it in my best interest to humor him and go with him. Besides, I was curious to see his method of robbing.

I got dressed. When we stepped outside, I realized just how smashed he was. He was wobbling, on the verge of tripping over his two feet any minute. Not only was it freezing but it was windy as hell. The streets were completely desolate.

There’s nobody out. Let’s go back. I said hopefully

Fuck that, we’re going to find somebody.

Fuck, I thought.

On Saint Nicholas Ave, there was a guy in a trench coat. He looked well groomed with a gift wrapped bottle of liquor in his hand. He didn’t look like much of a fighter. He could have even been gay.

That motherfucker! Junior said, pointing to him. Let’s get him!

Junior ran clumsily towards him. I kept my distance and looked out for any cops. I was amused by Junior’s recklessness and wondered what were going to be the results of this escapade.

My man! My man! Junior called out to his prey. I thought that he was fucking up already. The last thing you want to do is alert your victim until the last possible second that you’re going to rob him, especially in open, public terrain.

The guy turned around and looked confused. Junior took a swipe at him but missed and almost fell. The guy looked scared like he defecated in his slacks.

Oh my God! What did I do? What did I do? He cried out.  What a pussy! I thought.  He deserved to get robbed.

Gimme your shit, motherfucker!

The guy turned and ran. Junior grabbed his coat. The guy tugged, trying to get Junior off. I watched, leaning against the side of a car, laughing so hard that I got a stitch on my side.  Finally the guy tugged hard enough and Junior lost both his grip and balance. The guy help Junior’s fall out by hitting him awkwardly with his bottle on his shoulder.

That motherfucker, I thought. How dare he? I ran after towards him, but he was running too fast and wasn’t worth the effort.

Junior fell right on his chin on the hard, cold, concrete. I winced in sympathy pain for him. What an asshole!, I thought about Junior. I walked up him and crotched low. 

June, you okay?

He looked up with a bloody chin. I almost got that motherfucker! Where were you?

I was watching out for the cops. I didn’t want you to get busted. I thought you had him.

Thanks a lot! Man!

I helped Junior up. His chin was dripping dark burgundy blood. I was mesmerized by it.

You need snitches, dude.

Yeah, thanks to you. I’m never taking you robbing again.

I’m sorry. But that had to be the easiest vamp in the world. I don’t know what happen. I said, trying to fuck with his head.

Forget about it.

You should have had him. What happened?

I said forget about it.

We walked back to our block together. He mocked the guy crying.  “What did I do? What did I do?” I couldn’t stop laughing. When we reached our building we said good night and wished each other a happy new year. He lived in the basement of our building. Before I entered the main entrance, he called out to me.

Cousin Psych!

What’s up? I asked, already annoyed.

I love you, man.

I love you too. I said, not really believing myself.

To this day I have conflicted feelings towards my cousin Junior. He’s done everything a man can do to fuck up his life and he’s paying the price for it now. He’s never had a job, he survived anyway he knew how, even if it meant stealing from me, and he was a very violent man. You never knew what would set him off and had no problem beating a family member like any stranger he fought on the street, even his mother. He had no sense of morals or values. He’s the last kind of person an average, hard working citizen would want to be associated with for ten minutes, including me.

I judge him harshly and I wonder what does this say about me at times. After all, he is my family. It’s not like I haven’t done my share of fucked up things and just because I’ve worked towards becoming a better person, does that make me better?  Why is it that I can find compassion for a complete stranger but can be so ruthless towards someone who shares the same blood as me?  I can give myself a migraine trying to figure these questions out. What I do know is that not one person in this world is completely bad and vice versa.

Out of everybody in my family, Junior taught me some of the worst lessons in life. Ironically, he also taught me some of most valuable lessons. He made me aware that there are things that I could be proud of within my family, like my father’s mother cooked in the White House during the F D R administration. My father cooked for Julia Childs and my other grandmother was an accomplished fine artist who has been shown in galleries and museums in San Francisco.

When he spoke of people, he was able to scratch under the surface and offer true insight about them. He was able to tell you something good about the most undesirable person. I found it fascinating to hear him talk about people and was always surprised at how smart he really was. When everybody dismissed me as a weird fucked up kid because I was always in my own head and lacked self expression, he was the first person in my life to be able to fully understand me, sometimes better than I did myself and elaborate on it. And even though he stole from me and beat me at times, he always psychologically empowered me. He always bragged to anyone who would listen how talented and smart I was to the point of making me uncomfortable.  He always predicted that I was going to turn out to be someone very special in this world and was always willing to put money on it to anyone who made a doubtful face. When you’re used to being told otherwise, I loved to hear him say that, and he said it with such conviction, I believed it myself. I guess I really do love him for that.

I wish everybody a happy New Year and all the best.

Posted on February 24, 2008 at 02:04 AM   |   Previous Entry   |   Next Entry   |   Entry List   |   Email Entry   |    Digg

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