Family Stories - Places I've Lived, Part 3

Family Stories

Places I've Lived, Part 3

   We've now reach the start of my adulthood.  When I graduated high school I was living in the upstairs apartment on San Marcos.  I turned 18 that summer.  It was the year that adulthood was changed from being 21 to being 18.  So I got to register to vote, sign contracts, etc.  Cool stuff.

   That September I started community college.  And my parent's marriage imploded.  The night after my first day of college classes I came home after hanging out with friends to discover my dad sleeping on the sofa.  He moved out the next day.  My mom went into what I'd describe as a nervous breakdown.  She held it together at work, but once home she'd fall apart.  If I was there she'd talk at me, telling me everything I didn't want to know about their marriage and the bad things my dad did.  Nothing I did stopped her.  I'd tell her I was going to take a bath and she'd talk at me through the door.  She needed to vent, but I couldn't handle it.  So I asked my dad if I could live with him.

   So, about October of that year, I moved in with my dad into his nice one bedroom place.  Despite the fact that I slept on the sofa, I liked it there.  It was peaceful and my dad was trying hard to put his life back together.  With one flaw.  The other woman.  If Gayle wanted to spend the night, I had to go elsewhere, her demand.  So randomly, I had to go back to my mom's house some nights.  And had to lie to mom about why I was there.  Clearly I needed to find a better alternative.

   The better alternative showed up at college.  Someone I met needed a roommate.  She seemed nice enough, and the price was right.  She had a trundle bed, so I didn't need to bring much furniture.  I should explain my first adult roommate.  Hattie was American Born Chinese.  Her parents were immigrants and lived in Minnesota.  That's right, Chinese from Minnesota.  Probably because of that, Hattie was very assimilated into the dominant white culture.  She had wanted to get away from home to go to college, so her parents allowed her to come to southern CA.  I think their idea was that Hattie would live with relatives locally while going to community college.  Hattie lived with them briefly, but moved out as soon as she could.  Her first roommate, a bit of irony I found out later, was the daughter of a close family friend.

   Mostly Hattie and I got along really well.  Neither of us had a car, so we rode the bus a lot.  And we had friends.  Hattie's real flaw was that, for some reason, she had to have a boyfriend.  The one she had when I first moved in was the uncle of a friend.  She didn't see him that often, since for him I suspect she was just a booty call.  Hattie and I shared a one bedroom apartment with the bathroom off the bedroom.  This was not a problem until the boyfriend decided to spend the night.  Luckily there was a gas station down the street.  What wasn't cool was that the boyfriend had only intended to stop by for a quick one and brought his buddy.  Said buddy thought I should be willing to share my little bed with him-and not just for sleep!  He was determined and I was stubborn.  I left for school way early.  Didn't get much sleep and Hattie got an earfull from me once they were gone.  Luckily for me they broke up soon after.

   A few months after I moved in Hattie approached me with an offer.  She wanted us to move closer to school into a 2 bedroom with another couple.  It meant we'd share a bedroom and have use of the main bathroom.  The couple was Roya (sister of former boyfriend) and Henry, Roya's boyfriend, future husband, and future ex-husband (but that's another story).  Now it seems crazy, but it did bring the rent down much lower, and I did like the couple.  So we moved.

The place we moved into was part of a huge complex in the city of Montebello.  Very close, via bus to our school (all of us were going there at the time).  Also close enough for me to bike there, which I did sometimes.  And I'd get rides sometimes.

   We called our apartment the UN, short for United Nations.  I've already explained about Hattie.  Roya's story was remarkable.  Her mother's parents were from Russia.  Grandpa was a lawyer and was fold that Stalin was looking unkindly towards him.  So Grandpa arranged for the servants to take all six of the kids to the shore of the Black Sea and arrange for passage to Iran, just across the water.  The grandparents planned on joining them, but it didn't happen.  So Roya's mom, who was the oldest, was in charge.  She was 16 at the time.  The youngest was a toddler.  Roya's mom had enough money to get them settled and to attract the romantic attention of a young man with a good family.  He married her and agreed to care for her siblings.  Roya and her younger brother were the result.  As time went on (remember, this was during the days of the Shaw when things were less rigid), Roya's Aunts and Uncles moved to America.  Since she was a girl, eventually Roya was allowed to leave Iran as well.  Roya's brother, not allowed, so her mom stayed as well.  Roya was under the nominal care of her uncle (same one-he had been the toddler in the original escape story).

   Henry supposedly lived in a two bedroom apartment (on the same floor as ours) with his two brothers.  I didn't care much for his brothers, but I liked Henry.  He was upper class Mexican from Ensenada, Mexico.  I learned a lot about the real status of life there from him.

   So we were the United Nations.  I was the token American/white person.  It was odd, but then the school we were attending was 1/3 Hispanic, 1/3 black, and 1/3 Asian, white, and whatever.  It was a real eyeopener for me.  The other 3 all worked at the local IHOP, which is where they met.  Somehow we survived each other.  Roya was big on neatness (she was a math major, after all), so household chores got done.  We also took turns cooking.  Henry was a short order cook and good.  Roya made amazing Persian and Russian food.  I acquired my love for borscht from her.  Hattie really couldn't cook much.  Eventually she learned how to make wontons from her Aunt.  But mostly on her nights we had pizza or take out.  Me?  I made traditional American foods which they all loved-pot roast, spaghetti, meatloaf, etc.  We had a lot of fun.

   I didn't entirely ignore my parents during this time, but I didn't talk to them much either.  Mom was afraid I was making bad choices and getting into trouble.  I look back at it now and I realize that I was in a safe place, surrounded by unique and caring people.

More next week on The UN and our adventures.