THE ROCIA DILEMMA CONTINUES
It’s almost five, and I head over to her house for our dinner date. I’m trying to be as informal as possible, y’know, wearing only shorts, a modified Hawaiin shirt, and sandals. I want to forgo any crazy seriousness for now. I reach her house, knock on her door - and her father answers.
Uh oh.
Then I see that Rocia’s whole family is gathered around the table!
Double uh oh.
Everybody is there. Her mother. Her brother Patricio, who introduced me to her in the first place. An older brother. A cousin. One of her sisters. The other two are apparently upstairs, helping her get ‘ready’. It all seems a bit too eerie and formal for me.
Now her father, Don Ramon, invites me into the salon.
Oh boy.
He motions me to sit down in ‘the best chair’, and proceeds to pour both me and himself his finest tequila. Don Ramon actually speaks a pretty decent level of English, so that I only have to fill in with my shaky Spanish. He starts off by asking me about myself, and of course, being an extroverted narcissist, I am only too happy to regale him with tales of my life. He seems to approve.
About ten minutes into the conversation, the one sister whispers to him that Rocia is now ready and making her way down the stairs! As she descends, her other two sisters flit around her, smoothing her dress and putting a flower in her hair, giggling excitedly.
Wow! She looks too beautiful.
I just wanted to go around the corner to this restaurant for dinner - but now it feels like I’m being groomed for marriage.
Already.
Gulp.
I’m speechless. We head for the door to exit, saying our goodbyes and thank yous and - immediately - one of the older sisters, Adrianna, begins walking alongside us.
She is the chaperone, man!
God.
This must be like a full blown courtship! Think the 1800’s, or something. Shit. The whole time we are sitting at the restaurant - the three of us that is - Rocia keeps glancing at me, like I’m some kind of movie star, or something. Like she’s starstruck. I am wracked with guilt.
Apparently, it’s considered quite an achievement to catch a Norte Americano over here. Like - you will be set for life.
As I’ve said before, they watch these movies like ‘Pretty Woman’, or whatever, and are thoroughly convinced that all North Americans live ‘The Lifestyle of The Rich and Famous’
Boy, are they gonna be disappointed when they find out my situation, man.
I don’t know if Rocia actually thinks this… I mean, she is only 19 years old, y’know - but I’m pretty sure her family must have confirmed to her that she just hit the jackpot, or whatever. If she can just follow through on this.
Jeez.
So even though I’m smiling back at her while she makes lovey-dovey eyes at me, I’m seeing my whole future unfold in front of me in my mind. The course is all set out. The courtship will consist of a few more dates, until the last one occurs - at which time we will finally be freed of the chaperone. At that moment, I am to declare my undying love for Rocia. We will embrace passionately, then engage in a thoroughly romantic kiss under the moonlight.
Shortly afterward, the script requires that I pop the question.
Following that, I must visit the house and ask her father for her hand in marriage. He will, of course, be only too happy to grant his permission - and congratulate me on a job well done.
A toast ensues.
In rapid succession, the myriad preparations for the big event at the local Basilica - and the blessing from the Monsignor begin. Next, the traditional wedding celebration, as I am ‘officially’ welcomed to the family. It just moves on logically from there.
We will have to move to the US, where we will live at my parent’s house in New Jersey - since I have neither my own place - or a job - for that matter.
At this juncture, I begin choking vociferously on my food at the restaurant - so hard, in fact, that tears roll from my eyes. The waiter (mesero) brings me a glass of water, then another. I continue to hack madly. Now the entire staff of the restaurant, including the manager, and Rocia and her sister surround me, slapping me on the back so as to dislodge whatever it is that’s blocking my windpipe. I feel they are about to call the Monsignor in a few minutes to administer the last rites.
Oh no.
Finally, the choking ends, and even though my eyes are puffy and red from all the tearing up - everybody is relieved. We all even have a hearty laugh about it!
Phew.
The date ends about an hour and a half later, and we walk back to her house where - as the script commands - I kiss Rocia on the cheek, under the careful supervision of her sister, of course.
When I head back to my room above Cafe Hood, I feel as if I will collapse.
What have I done?
My mind rumbles like ‘The Cyclone’ at Coney Island. I toss and turn and twist all night. Not even Holosync helps. I don’t know if I can handle this. Meanwhile, my mind returns to the prescribed scenario that will surely unfold.
After moving back to my parent’s house, we’ll have to immediately start working on having a kid. Then two, then three - who knows where it ends?! We’ll have to take turns raising the kids, as Rocia attends University. She’ll have more opportunities there. I, on the other hand, wii have y
To work 80 hours a week as a dishwasher, or something horrible like that - to support us.
I am now drenched in sweat here in my bed.
We’ll eventually have to move out of my parent’s house. Where the hell will we live!? I mean, New York is already so fucking expensive! What about my dreams of journeying to the Amazon!? Of seeing the jungle? Of learning from the shamans? Of being, like, a wild savage - canoeing down the Amazon River, clad only in an oja grande (big leaf) covering my privates - and shooting poison curare dipped darts from my blow gun at enterprising white people seeking to pilfer the country’s resources!? All the while shouting:
Uumbaga!! Umbaagaa!!
I do not sleep a freakin’ minute all night. Exhausted, drained and limp, I finally make the emotional decision to strike out - and take the 6:30 AM bus back to Quito. I don’t utter a word to anyone. Not even Ivan, the Italian guy. I just don’t know what else to do.
