26. Not your friend

“Is it true? Stephen drives you to work?” Joseph asks me, his eyebrows curling, his expression bordering between anger and frustration.

“Yes, I ride to work with Stephen.” I answer. I don’t understand what the problem is. I feel like I am a little girl that just got scolded for misbehaving.

“This has to stop. You cannot get in the car with him anymore. People will see you and they will talk. You cannot date a Gypsy,” he is restraining himself from raising his voice at me, I can tell.

“But he is not my boyfriend! He is just a friend! He is helping me so I don’t have to ride a bus every day!” I am so confused. I thought I was doing a good thing and Stephen would be praised for helping me out. 

“That doesn’t matter, Jarka. You don’t know what his intentions are. You will ride a bus from now on. I don’t want to hear or see anything about this anymore. No more getting together with Stephen. Understood?” Joseph is serious and I respect him. I still can’t help it and blurt out, “Mom is friends with his father! How is that different?” I question him. My mother is Stephen's father's colleague and they interact on a daily basis.

“That is completely different! Listen to me! You will not talk or see Stephen again!” Joseph gets up, angry, ready to leave the room.

“But…”

“No buts, young lady!” He yells and slams the door.

The very next day, I reluctantly decide to obey and follow Joseph’s new rule about Stephen. I don’t want to anger anyone any more. I am walking to the bus station from our apartment building. I walk a block or two and hear a car honking behind me. I turn around and there is Stephen, in his car, pulling over. He rolls his window down and smiles, “You want to get a ride? Hop in!” He motions at the passenger side of his car.

I shake my head, “No, sorry, I am going to take the bus today.”

Stephen looks surprised. “Why not? Get in! You don’t want to ride in the stinky bus,” he chuckles.

I hesitate because it is so tempting to get a ride with him. Sigh. Joseph will be angry. But I am an adult. Stephen is nice. Why can’t I just make my life easier?

Stephen sees my hesitation. “Come on! Get in!” He leans over the passenger seat and opens the door for me.

I give up. I get in his car. He is a friend. I trust him. I am breaking the rules. Who cares?

We ride for a few minutes and we are actually still early before our working hours start. While sitting at a traffic light, Stephen looks at me and asks. 

“Would you mind if we stopped at the hospital? Maternity ward. My sister just had a baby a few days ago and I need to drop something off for her. It will only take a few minutes. I promise. We will still be on time.”

Sure, I don’t mind at all. We arrive at the hospital gate which has a little booth and a ramp that lets cars in one by one. There is a line of cars waiting and we are one of them. 

“You know, if there is a pregnant woman in the car, they just let you in. They don’t check out all of your IDs or anything. It would save us time. What if you stuffed this under your jacket?” Stephen is laughing as he is saying this, pointing at my bag. I know he is expecting me to say no. But I grab my purse that is just the perfect size for a pregnant belly. I stuff it under my jacket and smooth it out. Then I pat my belly. Stephen bursts out laughing and I can’t help it either. We are both giggling and chuckling, enjoying our silliness. 

“Ok, ok, be serious, we are almost at the gate,” he is trying so hard to keep his face straight. 

“Ok!” I try to look as serious as I can.

The booth employee gives us one look and waves us through. That was so easy. Stephen and I keep quiet for two more seconds to make sure we are in the clear. And then we give in to laughter. It feels so good to laugh in the midst of the seriousness of my life. It feels freeing and I enjoy every second of it.  I am hoping no one sees me “pregnant” with a Gypsy man because then I’d be in big trouble for sure. This is going to be my secret and I will not tell anyone. 

My teaching day goes well and it’s almost time to go home. I can’t avoid it this time, I will have to get on the bus, I assume. I am about to leave my classroom. I see Stephen walking towards me. He is about to approach me with a smile. But there is also Joseph who all of a sudden appears from behind the corner. I am startled. What is he doing here? Stephen’s smile vanishes and his face changes immediately as he is sensing that something is amiss. He quickly changes directions and enters the men’s room. 

“Jarka! There you are!” Joseph exclaims. “Ok, let’s go, kiddo. You are going home with me today. I decided that from now on I will be driving you home every day. You don’t have to ride the bus. It’s better this way.”

Again, his face is stern and serious. When we get in the car, he won’t say a word and I don’t dare to make a peep. I am scared someone saw me “pregnant” with a Roma guy. We are almost home when Joseph suddenly interrupts our silence.

“I don’t think I can trust that you wouldn’t let that Gypsy drive you around anymore. I have eyes everywhere, you know. Don’t underestimate how many people I know around here and things make their way to me. If you are around him, I will know it,” he says without taking his eyes off the road. I know what this means. And I am right. From now on, Joseph watches my every move. He also drives me everywhere and I am not able to see Stephen at all. I never get to talk to him again.

Thankfully, I still have Martin, my driving instructor to talk to. I don’t tell him about Stephen because I don’t tell anyone. However, Martin and I talk about America.

“How are you doing with your English?” he asks me one day.

“Not so good. I do know many words but it is so difficult to put sentences together. Somehow it works in my head but I am not able to say anything! And oh my gosh, I just can’t understand when they speak! They talk so fast.” I unload my frustrations out on him.

Martin is nodding but he is still skeptical about my ability to actually go to America.

“You know, if you make it to the US one day and if it all works out for you, that’d be awesome! But don’t count on it. It probably won’t happen and you are not the type to do something like this,” he chuckles every time we talk about America. 

“Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about English. Once you get there, you will know the language within a week. That’s how my friend learned it. English will just jump on you. Trust me on this. Right now, you won’t understand Americans. When they speak, it sounds like they have a hot potato in their mouths. You really have to go there to learn” He laughs at his own joke which I don’t find so amusing. He doesn’t believe in me.

I am almost at the end of my driving course and I am about to get my driver’s license after I pass my exam. I know I won’t see Martin again and he knows it too. Despite his attitude toward me going to America, I like having Martin as my friend. After seeing him and talking to him twice every week during my lessons, he grows on me.  

At our last meeting together, he asks me to stay in the car for a few more minutes. 

“Jarka, you are an amazing person. I hope that your dreams come true. I hope that you make it to America. Here,” he looks into my eyes and grabs my hand. He holds it for a few seconds and then he pushes a piece of paper into my hand. “Here is my address. Please, write me. Don’t forget me. I will be here any time you need me, ok? I will miss you. If things with Peter don’t work out, remember me, please.” I see his eyes glistening right before he looks away. I will miss Martin too. He taught me how to drive and he became a friend.

In the end, I will be leaving my friend, and also the one that is not allowed to be my friend, behind. 

I get home.  The answering machine is blinking. There is a message waiting for me.