The end justifies the means…or does it?
“So, it comes at exactly 5:50?” said Maria.
Her boyfriend nodded. “Like clockwork.”
It was 5:15 in the morning. It was still dark due to Daylight Savings Time. Maria shivered in her grey sweatshirt and jeans with the hole in the right knee and her New Balance sneakers her mother bought for her.
“I know it’s cold, baby!” said Anthony. “But it’s better this way.” Anthony was pulling his denim jacket close to him as well. He had to cover up the blood on his t-shirt. It didn’t have to happen, they both thought to themselves. It didn’t have to happen, he thought to himself.
Maria thought the same thing as if she and Anthony were truly kindred spirits. It didn’t have to happen, she thought to herself. They came from two different worlds. She was Filipino. He was Irish Italian. They didn’t understand why both their families didn’t want them together, but they were in love.
“I never understood my folks,” Maria told Anthony. “In fact,” as she maneuvered her rear end on the flat stone where she sat. “My auntie married a white Navy lieutenant, and NOBODY batted an eye!”
“You know what this is about,” said Anthony. “It’s all about stereotypes.”
“Stereotypes?”
“Yeah,” said Anthony. “They see my last name and all they see is the Italian stereotype: pizza, pasta, mafia.”
“Really,” said Maria. “In The Godfather, Michael the Catholic married Kay the Protestant.”
“And Henry Hill was like me in Goodfellas,” said Anthony. “Half Irish, half Italian.”
“Go figure,” said Maria. “When your family sees me, all they see is Imelda Marcos, Manny Pacquiao, and roasting pigs.”
Anthony snickered, then looked a bit more serious.
“What time do you have?”
“It’s 5:35,” said Anthony, looking at his watch. “It’s coming. Trust me!”
“Well, should we get into position?”
“Not yet,” said Anthony as he looked around the forest. “It’s pretty near dawn.”
“I never realized this,” said Maria. “Where my family came from, there were forests and trees.”
“They were from Manila, right?”
“Quezon City,” she said. “It’s north of Manila.”
“I wish we could go there!”
“I don’t,” said Maria. “I may have been born there, but this is where I am.”
“Well, yeah,” said Anthony. “For now!
Anthony rubbed his hands and looked at the sky. “It’s funny,” he said. “There wasn’t any animosity towards my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins when my parents got together. Yeah, there were the jokes about beer and cannolis, but it was all about the church.”
“Yeah, the good ol’ Catholic church,” said Maria, sitting on the wet, mossy grass. “We have our church talk in my home too!”
The sun was beginning to sprout through the trees. Anthony and Maria walk towards the tracks. Maria walks towards him. She steps over the gravel towards the track.
The time was 5:41 as Anthony and Maria maneuvered themselves onto the track. It felt like a hard mattress. They lay down on the horizontal track planks. Anthony and Maria tried to hold each other as Maria laid her head against his bloodstained shirt. It brought back the bad memories of the following night. The blood came from the smashed head of her bulky cousin Pato.
“He would’ve killed you,” she whispered.
“He nearly did,” he whispered. “But you saved me.”
“Your tire iron was a lifesaver.”
Anthony and Pato struggled. He hated Anthony. He hated the fact that this white boy was with his cousin. Pato and Maria were more like brother and sister than cousins. But in Pato’s mind, Anthony was this guido wannabe who cut into his family. Anthony wanted to take Maria away from the family. To Arizona? Why?
The struggle behind the strip mall between Pato and Anthony went on too long. The punches left hooks, and eventually, Pato had the upper hand on Anthony, with his hands around Anthony’s neck. Before he knew it, he heard the thwack of the tire iron against Pato’s skull. Pato didn’t see Maria’s swing against his head, bashing his head in.
“I’m pretty sure I fractured his skull,” she whispered snuggling against Anthony’s bloodied shirt.
“But he was your cousin.”
“He was an asshole! He tried to kill you! He didn’t understand!”
“And I have his brains practically all over my shirt!”
“But he’s gone!” said Maria.
“So are we almost,” said Anthony.
They snuggled closer. It was 5:50 a.m. and the train was on time, just as Anthony said.
“They’ll miss us,” said Maria.
“It’s a lesson that they have to learn,” he said.
As the train raced down the track, Anthony asked, “How do you say, ‘Thank You’ in Tagalog again?”
“Salamat sa iyo” said Maria.
“Salamat forever,” said Anthony. “We will never be separated again.”
“Sala…”
Also published in Vocal.Media
