LJ Idol Season 11 Second Chance Week 2: Echo Chamber
"I'll pay you back, I promise. I just need money for cigarettes and coffee."
"Next week, I'll give you the money for rent. I promise."
"It's only going to be for three months, I swear. And then we'll get a place of our own." (It was 3.5 years before we got our own place).
"This coming week, I have a big job coming in. We'll go shopping. I'll pay you back for everything."
My mom always said that talking to my Aba (father) was like talking to a wall. She swore a wall could answer her back better than he could, hold promises better than he could. In my head, I can still hear him retort everytime she'd ask him for money, "Shavua ha'bah. Al ti'dagi." Next week, don't worry. "Yesh li avodah g'dolah." I have a big job. My Aba was (and still is) all about the big jobs and big dreams. Don't get me wrong, getting money wasn't hard for him. He was a contractor in Potomac where all the millionaires live (because if you're going to be a contractor in this county, that's where you're going to make your money). He spent his days driving around to different mansions seeking jobs and peoeple paid back then. No one seemed to care that he was doing it illegally without a license, he was that charming. Doctors, lawyers, famous people, everyone loved him. It wasn't uncommon for him to come home with $1,000 in cash in a day or checks written to him for thousands of dollars. My mom would at times resort to begging him for the money to pay bills, to buy food, pay for doctors visits, what have you. She'd even beg him to get his contracting license and make things legal and she'd even help him study since she was always better in reading and writing English than he was (not that Aba was illiterate in English but he never went to school in the U.S. unlike my mom who got her high school diploma here even though she moved here when she was 18). He had no problem giving her $100 here and $50 there and same with me. It wasn't uncommon for him when he had money to give me money to go shopping with my friends or to buy me things without blinking an eye. Aba always told me he'd buy me the moon if he could afford it. But where did the rest of the money go? He refused to give her more money, saying next week, tomorrow, next month. It was always an excuse. He'd swear "Ani za'rich liknot homarim, le'shalem le'po'alim, liknot aruchat z'horaim l'ha'poalim...." I need to buy equipment (to paint the houses), to pay the workers, to buy lunch for the workers." But that doesn't explain where the rest of the money went to. I can only assume poker games, drugs, and I wouldn't be surprised now looking back if there was a prostitute or two who got some of the money. Because the next day?
The next day the money would be gone and he'd be begging someone for money, anyone. He'd beg my mom, me, friends, family, whoever. Something to hold him over until he found the next big job, to buy a cup of coffee, cigarettes. It didn't matter to him that just the night beofre he had the money and he'd brag about it to the world. He had no shame in his begging - how can you have shame when you're asking your 8 year old daughter for money out of her allowance? The screaming and fighting would begin again. My mom would lecture him as she'd drive us around Potomac helping him look for work, "Im rak hayita sho'mea li..." If you only listened to me. He would tune her out, staring out the window, only interrupting her tirade to tell her, "Yaminah. Smolah. Ya'shar." Left. Right. Straight. Her words would echo off the car windows as she would hope that maybe somehow, he'd hear her words, listen to her words, and for once change his ways.
That would be the cycle for them...she'd beg and plead for money, he'd appease her every now and then with $100 here, $50 there, a night out for dinner here, shopping there. She'd scream, he'd ignore and went about his way. Then it would be like nothing happened, they were happy again. For awhile the cycle stopped but that was only because he ended up in jail for a year. Working without a license eventually catches up with you.
I told my mom when I was in 5th grade and she was contemplating having him move back in with us once he got out of jail, "Mommy, a zebra doesn't change its stripes." She nodded thoughtfully and told her friends how smart her daughter was with those wise words but my words went unheeded. The summer before 6th grade, he got out of jail, and sure enough he moved in with us. "This time it will be different, Hillary," she promised me as I stared out the window, her hopeful words echoed in the car. "He swears he learned his lesson. Things will be okay. We will have money." I nodded, wanting to believe her, to believe him. But I had heard the empty promises, the fighting, the lies, too many times before that they rattled in my head.
And sure enough, the cycle began again...
"Al ti'dagi, he'yeh li kesef vish'vilech v'vishvil Hillary shavuah ha'bah." Don't worry, I will have money for you and Hillary next week. "Ani za'rich kesef be'nataim vishvil kafe v'cigariyot." I need money in the meantime for coffee and cigarettes. "Ani y'ten lach kaful b'chazarah." I will give you double in return.
Author's note: please forgive my transliterated Hebrew. Hebrew has sounds that does not exist in English and trying to do syllabication in Hebrew is hard so I tried my best.
"Next week, I'll give you the money for rent. I promise."
"It's only going to be for three months, I swear. And then we'll get a place of our own." (It was 3.5 years before we got our own place).
"This coming week, I have a big job coming in. We'll go shopping. I'll pay you back for everything."
My mom always said that talking to my Aba (father) was like talking to a wall. She swore a wall could answer her back better than he could, hold promises better than he could. In my head, I can still hear him retort everytime she'd ask him for money, "Shavua ha'bah. Al ti'dagi." Next week, don't worry. "Yesh li avodah g'dolah." I have a big job. My Aba was (and still is) all about the big jobs and big dreams. Don't get me wrong, getting money wasn't hard for him. He was a contractor in Potomac where all the millionaires live (because if you're going to be a contractor in this county, that's where you're going to make your money). He spent his days driving around to different mansions seeking jobs and peoeple paid back then. No one seemed to care that he was doing it illegally without a license, he was that charming. Doctors, lawyers, famous people, everyone loved him. It wasn't uncommon for him to come home with $1,000 in cash in a day or checks written to him for thousands of dollars. My mom would at times resort to begging him for the money to pay bills, to buy food, pay for doctors visits, what have you. She'd even beg him to get his contracting license and make things legal and she'd even help him study since she was always better in reading and writing English than he was (not that Aba was illiterate in English but he never went to school in the U.S. unlike my mom who got her high school diploma here even though she moved here when she was 18). He had no problem giving her $100 here and $50 there and same with me. It wasn't uncommon for him when he had money to give me money to go shopping with my friends or to buy me things without blinking an eye. Aba always told me he'd buy me the moon if he could afford it. But where did the rest of the money go? He refused to give her more money, saying next week, tomorrow, next month. It was always an excuse. He'd swear "Ani za'rich liknot homarim, le'shalem le'po'alim, liknot aruchat z'horaim l'ha'poalim...." I need to buy equipment (to paint the houses), to pay the workers, to buy lunch for the workers." But that doesn't explain where the rest of the money went to. I can only assume poker games, drugs, and I wouldn't be surprised now looking back if there was a prostitute or two who got some of the money. Because the next day?
The next day the money would be gone and he'd be begging someone for money, anyone. He'd beg my mom, me, friends, family, whoever. Something to hold him over until he found the next big job, to buy a cup of coffee, cigarettes. It didn't matter to him that just the night beofre he had the money and he'd brag about it to the world. He had no shame in his begging - how can you have shame when you're asking your 8 year old daughter for money out of her allowance? The screaming and fighting would begin again. My mom would lecture him as she'd drive us around Potomac helping him look for work, "Im rak hayita sho'mea li..." If you only listened to me. He would tune her out, staring out the window, only interrupting her tirade to tell her, "Yaminah. Smolah. Ya'shar." Left. Right. Straight. Her words would echo off the car windows as she would hope that maybe somehow, he'd hear her words, listen to her words, and for once change his ways.
That would be the cycle for them...she'd beg and plead for money, he'd appease her every now and then with $100 here, $50 there, a night out for dinner here, shopping there. She'd scream, he'd ignore and went about his way. Then it would be like nothing happened, they were happy again. For awhile the cycle stopped but that was only because he ended up in jail for a year. Working without a license eventually catches up with you.
I told my mom when I was in 5th grade and she was contemplating having him move back in with us once he got out of jail, "Mommy, a zebra doesn't change its stripes." She nodded thoughtfully and told her friends how smart her daughter was with those wise words but my words went unheeded. The summer before 6th grade, he got out of jail, and sure enough he moved in with us. "This time it will be different, Hillary," she promised me as I stared out the window, her hopeful words echoed in the car. "He swears he learned his lesson. Things will be okay. We will have money." I nodded, wanting to believe her, to believe him. But I had heard the empty promises, the fighting, the lies, too many times before that they rattled in my head.
And sure enough, the cycle began again...
"Al ti'dagi, he'yeh li kesef vish'vilech v'vishvil Hillary shavuah ha'bah." Don't worry, I will have money for you and Hillary next week. "Ani za'rich kesef be'nataim vishvil kafe v'cigariyot." I need money in the meantime for coffee and cigarettes. "Ani y'ten lach kaful b'chazarah." I will give you double in return.
Author's note: please forgive my transliterated Hebrew. Hebrew has sounds that does not exist in English and trying to do syllabication in Hebrew is hard so I tried my best.