A MYSTERIOUS TALES Short Story.
UCD: Part One | All Rights Reserved.
His age is negligible. No friends. No recollection of many things. It had been roughly a year since he had lost his memory. Marco Zamora really didn't have a single clue what he was doing with his life. He felt lost. Stuck. He just kind of.. existed.
How did he come to lose his memory? Your guess is as good as mine. He refused to discuss it with anyone; to the dismay of many healthcare professionals. All he really knew? He was tired of hospitals, and people. Everyone was rude (He was no spring cake himself). Strangers kicked and hissed in his direction.
Marco knew everything was not as it seemed; so fret he did not. He simply chose not to think about it. Another rude therapist or another Gay Conversion Therapy Quack is the last thing he wanted.
The Office. Metro. Gym. Home.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
The days were a blur, nothing but moments of crippling loneliness after crippling anxiety. Round And Round; but unlike the Selena Gomez song, sordid tunes is all he could hear. He really wasn’t sure where his life was headed, and he found it difficult to care.
Sure, his clothes were sleek. Sure, he lacked for nothing. Sure, he looked all prim and proper. But none of that really mattered to him. He read his Bible, he said his prayers, he lifted the weights, he met his goals. To outsiders, there was much to envy. Little did they know, he held back tears nearly every moment of every day.
His Facade was strong. The tears hidden. And his Poker Face Game was on another level.
Sure, the glasses made him look cool. But The sad truth was… they hid his tear soaked eyes well.
The Office. Metro. Gym. Home.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
—
School. Work. Gym.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Emiliano Jesus Perez wasn’t like everyone else. At eighteen, he wasn’t really sure what everyone was on about these days. What with the raging wildfires advertised all over the place, but nothing but crystal clear skies. All of this made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever. Then again, living in East Los Angeles never really made much sense to him.
“You know, Fatima down the street is Single.” His mother would remind him daily. Time after time.
And everyday she would get the exact same answer from him, “Yes mom, I know; you remind me every single day. That’s nice to hear.”
And everyday single day, her response was the same; irked as all get out. ‘Lo que se ve no se pregunta,’ he would think to himself as he walked out his caste style home in Boyle Heights. Off he went, rushing to work on his scooter.
Emiliano Perez was different. Unique. He was focused on getting things done. Building a future for himself. He had no time for relationships.
Today was just like every other day. Nothing was particularly special about this very day, just.. another day in the barrio.
“Yo bro, when are you gonna come hang with us? It’s about time you started to hang with the crew,” his neighbor would chime in from time to time.
“Haha. I’m good man. Thanks. Hope your mom is doing well!” He would say once again.
“When are you gonna call my sister Fatima? She’s been asking about ya.” His neighbor, just like his mother; was relentless. But so was Emiliano.
“Haha. That’s cool man. I’ve gotta run! Have a good day!” He would say, like clockwork. Just like every other day.
He wasn’t quite sure what his neighbor expected from him, his answer had been the exact same for the past ten years. Somehow, it felt as if he believed that if he kept asking his answer would somehow magically change. Not quite. Emiliano didn’t really find any sense to their hang out sessions. Hanging out in empty parking lots in DTLA sounded like a pretty lackluster hang to him. Like, how was that fun? What was the point? No. Emiliano had better things to do. He had a GPA to upkeep, a future to focus on.
Everyone seemed to have one thing on their minds around these parts; relationships and starting families. A staple of the Hispanic community, or so it seemed. Sadly, he didn’t really share the same sentiment. Much to his parent’s disappointment. He was focused on his studies.. How having a family would help his future prospects of getting into college was beyond him. Though he kept a solid resolve, a part of him did feel rather guilty. Making your parents proud was one of the golden staples of being a son, the one thing he truly felt he would never be able to achieve. Try as he might, he knew he was unlikely to ever make his family proud. To make them proud, he would have to compromise everything he held near and dear. Throw out his own established values and morals. And that was something Emiliano refused to even consider.
Growing up, it seemed.. came with a lot of expectations from Hispanic Society. But Emiliano had different plans for his future, plans that didn’t involve hanging out in empty parking lots at the wee hours of the night doing God knows what. He didn’t quite see eye to eye with his peers. Keeping to himself didn’t make him many friends around East Los Angeles, quite the opposite honestly.
But Emiliano knew it wasn’t that simple. He misunderstood them and they misunderstood him. It was a mutual thing. He had dreams of college, a bright future, a life unlike what his family planned for him.
From time to time, his parent’s frustrations would boil over. Why? Well you see, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. And for all intents and purposes, his parents were near that threshold.
“Que te pasa? Fatima es perfecta para ti, no seas estupido. Llamala.” His dad would say.
“Pero es una mujer buena!!!” His mom screamed at him once. “Porque no la quieres!! Es perfecta!” She wailed through tears. Actually one of the worse interactions he had ever had with his mother.
How did he reply? Well, a wry smile and cleverly disguised exits had become his forte. In this particular instance, he simply nodded and headed out the front door.
“A donde vas mendigo!!!” She yelled in frustration. “Vente pa ca!!! No corras!!!”
Even Emiliano wasn’t prepared for how he would respond to this particular situation. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it, or where to go for that matter. It was nearly midnight. So he found a quiet little spot behind the Gonzalez Market down the road and well… broke down. His parents had tried everything, literally EVERYTHING; but Emiliano knew better. You see, he didn’t particularly care too much for the banter and incessant attempts. But deep down inside, after eighteen years of being the odd guy out… well, it had started to take a toll on him. Truth was, he had started to wonder whether joining his neighbor in the empty DTLA Parking Lots was the way to go. Maybe it would serve as a temporary reprieve to his loneliness problem. Or perhaps he could actually listen and take Fatima out sometime. But that’s just not what he wanted, and he didn’t understand how engaging in activities he didn’t particularly find useful would benefit him in the long run. He didn’t want a girlfriend. He didn’t like the same things they did. He was just.. different. And not a single day went by when he wasn’t reminded of that. So on this lonely night, he sat on the pavement behind the Supermarket and he sobbed quietly to himself.
On some fundamental level, we all want to be liked by our peers. We all want to make our parents proud. We walk a fine line between making those around us happy and staying faithful to our own carefully crafted beliefs. Emiliano just… wished he could be like everyone else. And yet, oddly enough. His actions were out of love for the very people that he just couldn’t seem to get along with. You see, Emiliano learned from a very young age what it took to survive in this world, it took guts and determination. Godspeed. Perseverance, and those were the traits Emiliano was focused on cultivating. Why? For the oddest of reasons. So he could go out there and change the world. Get in rooms where the big decisions get made, help make this a better place for everyone… and from everything he had learned, the only way he had a shot at that is through an education. So though it hurt, waving off his peers, forging his own path forward; he knew it was necessary. He knew he had no choice but to continue on the course he had set forth for himself.
He knew he would have to be ten times better than everyone else to even have a remote chance (But still a chance), at affecting change on the level he knew was needed. Fact was, many people weren’t interested in change whatsoever; they were perfectly happy with the way things were. But Emiliano knew better. After everything he’d learned and seen in his short eighteen years on this earth he knew one thing with full certainty; there could be a whole lot less tears out there.
Through the loneliness and his own waterworks; he knew this is what it would take. And ultimately, he didn’t mind. Sacrificing himself for the betterment of all. Emiliano had been blessed from the oddest of places; God himself had granted him the gift of foresight. So he focused and kept his eye on the prize.
Emiliano Perez was an overthinker. So before making ANY move, he considered the multiple outcomes that may come about. From these multiple perceived realities, he would purposely choose the very worst outcome and assume it would ultimately develop into reality. While some may believe this was counterproductive to his overall goals; the reality was that Emiliano was a little bit of a genius at times. You see, choosing the very worst outcome allowed him to dodge EVERY SINGLE OBSTACLE that presented itself. EVERY SINGLE TIME. However, it was these very skills that were slowly killing Emiliano Perez.
Foresight, while a priceless gift from the heavens; came with a slew of caveats. The introspection needed to foresee these multiple realities was rare, so not many understood the pain associated with such abilities. With each potential reality came the heartbreak associated with it. Some of those realities required him to consider the possibility that those closest to him were working against him. And much to his disappointment, this reality ended up being the truth a lot more often than not. So while he was able to dodge obstacle after obstacle, road block after road block… those around him grew angered at times. Not quite sure how he did it, how he kept winning. Why things kept working out for him. Why their attempts to break him always fell on deaf ears, their efforts rendered moot.
With time, Emiliano Perez grew more distant than ever. The tears, the pain, it took a toll on him after a while. He began to assume the worst in everyone around him, and his heart slowly started to grow cold. He wondered whether any of his efforts were even remotely worth it. Why would he kill himself to help the very people who only sought to see him fail? Reality after reality. Day after day. He wished so badly… to just, be able to speak to all of East Los High. And tell them how he really felt about them. Explain himself. Explain that he admired their determination as a people, their tenacity and perseverance, their passion to keep their culture alive and well. Because who they were, he could never be. And to tell them one single thing… THANK YOU.
Had it not been for them, he would not have been able to cultivate this iron will he currently possessed. The ability to prepare himself for the harshness of this world. Because the older he got, he realized life only grew more complicated. More harsh. The stakes grew higher. The risks multiplied. And without their contributions, Emiliano Jesus Perez could never have prepared himself for the many curve balls life would throw his way. Ball after ball, sidewinder blow after sidewinder blow, Emiliano came to find he was not only incredibly skilled; but keenly adept at flipping the script and persevering through the flames.
He wasn’t sure how.. but someday he would find a way to tell them exactly how he felt. Why he did what he did. And to scream his closely held secret at the top of his lungs. None of this. Absolutely NONE OF THIS would have been possible without his only friend.
God himself.
J.J. Haro
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