Not Even There
I promise, I swore into the phone, you won’t even know I’m there.
JD and I knew that was the farthest thing from the truth, but I still said it. I was in the middle of cajoling JD into picking me up from our home and taking me along with him to a meeting. Not just any meeting; it was a meeting in East Los Angeles. For those who don’t know, East LA is beautiful. But not in the traditional sense of the word. Instead of tree-lined streets, white picket fences, and manicured storefronts, East Los Angeles opts for religious murals painted on random concrete walls, Mexican music blaring from passing cars, and street vendors.
It’s strangely pretty. Which is why I was begging him to take me along for the ride. A little while later, we were on the 60 freeway headed toward Downtown. I lugged my laptop along to edit some pictures and he made business calls from his cell.
Yes, that’s wonderful
[pause]
It’s what we do best, so I’m glad you agree
[pause]
That’s not a problem, I’ll set that up immediately
During this pause, I leaned over—sandwiched between the steering wheel and his pectoris—and whispered, See, you don’t even know I’m here! He rolled his eyes and smiled.
Once we pulled off the freeway, I grabbed my camera and started shooting. Just as we were passing a fruit vendor, JD snapped his cell phone shut. Oh my gosh, I squealed, you’ve just got to pull over. Please, I implored, you must do it now! I want that fruit! He rolled to a stop and I hopped out of the car. I leaned into the lowered window and asked for a few bucks. You know Jaz, you were right, JD said with a smile, I don’t even know you’re here.
The proprietor of the fruit stand opened a small plastic container and asked me in Spanish what I would like on the slices of mango. Everything, I replied in her native tongue. She squeezed lemon juice, sprinkled a dash of salt, and poured chili on the yellow slices. I laughed walking back to the car because I the time I ordered this type of treat, I was with my friends. They were thoroughly disgusted, but I enjoyed every bite.
See, I said with my mouth full, if I weren’t here, you wouldn’t be enjoying this fruit. He looked at me askance and smirked.
JD parked for his meeting and kissed me quickly on the lips. Say a prayer for me, he said quickly as he got out of the car.
I roamed the streets until he was finished with his meeting.
We piled back into the car and compared the last hour. I had infinitely more fun. You know, JD said, you’re going to have to post your pictures. That’s what I get for dragging—oops, I mean, taking—you along with me, he said.
These are for JD, who charges too much for a ride to East Los Angeles ☺
JD and I knew that was the farthest thing from the truth, but I still said it. I was in the middle of cajoling JD into picking me up from our home and taking me along with him to a meeting. Not just any meeting; it was a meeting in East Los Angeles. For those who don’t know, East LA is beautiful. But not in the traditional sense of the word. Instead of tree-lined streets, white picket fences, and manicured storefronts, East Los Angeles opts for religious murals painted on random concrete walls, Mexican music blaring from passing cars, and street vendors.
It’s strangely pretty. Which is why I was begging him to take me along for the ride. A little while later, we were on the 60 freeway headed toward Downtown. I lugged my laptop along to edit some pictures and he made business calls from his cell.
Yes, that’s wonderful
[pause]
It’s what we do best, so I’m glad you agree
[pause]
That’s not a problem, I’ll set that up immediately
During this pause, I leaned over—sandwiched between the steering wheel and his pectoris—and whispered, See, you don’t even know I’m here! He rolled his eyes and smiled.
Once we pulled off the freeway, I grabbed my camera and started shooting. Just as we were passing a fruit vendor, JD snapped his cell phone shut. Oh my gosh, I squealed, you’ve just got to pull over. Please, I implored, you must do it now! I want that fruit! He rolled to a stop and I hopped out of the car. I leaned into the lowered window and asked for a few bucks. You know Jaz, you were right, JD said with a smile, I don’t even know you’re here.
The proprietor of the fruit stand opened a small plastic container and asked me in Spanish what I would like on the slices of mango. Everything, I replied in her native tongue. She squeezed lemon juice, sprinkled a dash of salt, and poured chili on the yellow slices. I laughed walking back to the car because I the time I ordered this type of treat, I was with my friends. They were thoroughly disgusted, but I enjoyed every bite.
See, I said with my mouth full, if I weren’t here, you wouldn’t be enjoying this fruit. He looked at me askance and smirked.
JD parked for his meeting and kissed me quickly on the lips. Say a prayer for me, he said quickly as he got out of the car.
I roamed the streets until he was finished with his meeting.
We piled back into the car and compared the last hour. I had infinitely more fun. You know, JD said, you’re going to have to post your pictures. That’s what I get for dragging—oops, I mean, taking—you along with me, he said.
These are for JD, who charges too much for a ride to East Los Angeles ☺
posted by Jasmine at 3:14 PM
5 Comments:
I love your stories! They are so interesting and funny. Oh -- and your pictures rock as well! Thanks JD for charging something for the ride that we could all enjoy.
Muy bien. Or is it Muy bueno? Six years of Espanol treated me mal. Or maybe it's vice versa.
Thanks for reviewing Chapter 1 and for being amicable about it! I'll reply tomorrow.
Those are AMAZING! I don't know how to read but the pictures are INCREDIBLE!
muy bonita mi bonita amiga!! sus fotos y palabras junto - brillante!! okay, my espanol is probably rusty in a half so I'll stop now :)
Wow, I didn't realize how cultured my friends are with Hispanic dealings...little do you probably realize that I no speaka Espanol tambien! :)
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