59. A curfew, a hearing aid, and a cop

I get a job at the school library and I love every minute of it. I make minimum wage which is $5.15 per hour but I don’t care. It’s money. For the first time ever, I am able to make money on my own. I am not allowed to work off campus with my current student visa status. That would require another permit from the Immigration office. A work permit which I don’t have yet. One step at a time. Besides, I love my little library job. I get to know many people, students and professors. I check books in and out of the system and then I shelve them into their appropriate sections. I also have time to study and read magazines. Especially during quiet times. 

I am at the end of my freshman year and I feel like I have finally adjusted to life in America. I understand Southern English and slang too. My grades are improving in classes like math and, gasp, even history. I am trying hard to bring my GPA up after my first semester American history disaster.

I spend more and more time with John. I practically live at the Woody’s, but John still drives me home to Miriam’s house every evening. Whenever we happen to get to her house a few minutes before my 11 pm curfew, we wait in his car until it’s exactly 11:00 on the dot. We wait and chat, engine and lights out. We blend into the dark street. Then when it’s time, I ring Miriam’s doorbell and she lets me in. 

It is another evening of our daily routine. It is 11 pm and it’s time for me to go to Miriam’s house. I say my nightly goodbyes to John and step out of his car. He drives off and his old car disappears into the distance. The street is dark. Very very dark. The lights have not been working for a while. I am crossing the dark street and all of a sudden there are bright red, white, and blue lights flashing behind me. Oh no….a cop. He catches up with me and then slows his car down to stop right next to me. The officer rolls his window open and with a stern voice he says, 

“Ma’am, please, stop walking. "I want to ask you some questions.”

He pulls up by the curb and gets out of his car.

My heart is jumping and thumping inside my chest. What is it this time? Am I in trouble? 

“What were you doing in the car?” His voice is loud and scary. He is being serious, sounding angry. I don’t understand.

“Nothing,” I respond.

“Nothing? What does nothing mean?” He insists.

“I don’t know. Nothing?” I am trembling. I am so scared. I don’t know how to respond. I don’t know what this means.

The officer steps closer to me and looks straight into my eyes. I am shaking so hard. I don’t know what to do.

“WHAT. WERE. YOU. DOING. IN. THE. CAR? With that guy. You were doing drugs. Am I right? AM I RIGHT?” He is trying to intimidate me and he is successful. 

“N-n-no. We were not doing drugs. I promise.” I have tears in my eyes. 

“Are you telling the truth?”

“Y-yes,” I nod. “Please, believe me. I was with my boyfriend. I live right here,” I point at Miriam’s house. 

“He was just dropping me off.” My voice is trembling and I am in visible distress. He must see it! 

A flicker of empathy and understanding shows up on the officer’s face.

“Are you sure you are not lying?” He asks again, his voice milder.

I nod vigorously. “Please, let me go home. I am late already.”

“Ok! But I will be watching you! I will be back. Do not try anything else because I will know about it. Maybe your boyfriend shouldn’t park his car in the dark street.” And with that he gets in the car and drives off into the darkness. He leaves me behind’ I am once again alone. I bend over, my hands on my legs, and I breathe. I take a few deep breaths in and out before I calm down and before I am able to move my body again.

I t’s past my curfew now, but I don’t know how late it actually is. Probably 5 or 10 minutes after 11pm. I walk up to Miriam’s door and ring the bell. Nothing. I knock on the door. Nothing. Please, please, Miriam, wake up, open the door! She is probably trying to teach me a lesson. I bet she took her hearing aid out and went to bed, knowing I am still out there. I keep ringing the bell and banging on the door for several minutes. Then I walk around the house, through the bushes, trying to get to her window. The access to it is not easy and it’s so dark outside! I get scratched and poked by the plants, sticks, and branches but I make it to her window and knock on it persistently. I know Miriam’s bed is right it. Still nothing. It must be at least 11:30pm now or later. Sigh, I don’t have a choice. I have to walk to school, which is about a 10 minute walk on a regular day. This time, I run through the empty parking lots, I run behind the library and behind the dining hall. I hope I can find a public safety officer and hopefully they can help. The little school public safety shack is dark and locked though. I don’t know what else to do. I start running again and automatically head to the music building, even though I know no one will be there. The doors lock at 10pm in all school buildings. I run up to the back door and as I anticipated, it is locked. I peer through the little window in the door and I see a beam of light peaking from somewhere inside the building. Normally it would be all dark. The light seems to be coming from the professors’ offices. I start banging on the door. A few minutes go by and I am almost ready to give up. I guess I have to be homeless tonight, I realize, nearly in panic. Then the door slowly opens and there stands the choir director. I am the piano accompanist for his choir and see him in school every day. He looks tired. Stressed out. Dishelved. He looks like I just woke him up from a deep sleep and he just got out of bed. Except it’s the middle of the night and he is staying at his office? 

“What are you doing here, Jarka?” He asks with a surprise, immediately followed by concern, in his voice. I could ask him the same question but there is no time for this. I quickly explain my situation and beg him to let me use his office phone. I dial Woody's house number which I have now memorized. I know John’s mom is away, visiting family in Texas, but John and his dad should be home. It is 12:30 am. No one answers. Of course! Because they are sleeping. Like normal people. I keep trying and keep dialing. Their phone must be ringing off the hook because of me. Finally, John’s dad’s sleepy voice answers the phone. I feel so bad for waking him up. 

“Can I….can I please talk to John?” I plead. 

“Jarka! Is that you?” his dad says, his voice still tired. “Are you ok? You need to talk to John now? Right now? He is sleeping!”

“Can you please wake him up, please,” I beg him.

“Ok…..hold on,” I can tell he puts the phone down and I wait a couple minutes for anything to happen.

“Huh,” I hear John on the other side.

Relieved, I tell him what happened, tears threatening to spill out.

“I will be right there,” John says in a hurry and hangs up. 

I spend my very first night at the Woody’s. From then on I am there all the time, until I eventually move in.

**********

John and I are still dating. However, I don’t know how serious he is about me. He won’t express his feelings for me and he insists he doesn’t want to get married. He will still not hold my hand in public or anywhere. I feel a little sad about it even though, deep down, I know that he feels something for me. However, I don’t want to force him into anything and I decide to give him time. For now.

After I complete my freshman year, my mother manages to get a visitor’s visa and comes to Dahlonega. I am so excited and so happy to talk to her in person, touch her, show her everything around. She stays at the Woody house with me, of course. 

“Jarka,” she says one day as we are lounging in the yard outside, drinking our coffee, 

“What are John’s plans for the future and for your relationship? And how about your plans?”

“I don’t know mom. I don’t think he wants to get married for a long time. I am not sure how he feels about me. I would probably marry him before I graduate. If he asked, I mean.”

“Do you love him?” This is such a typical mother’s question and I don’t know how to answer it.

“I don’t know? I think so!”

“Jarka! If you loved him, you would know for sure.” She insists.

“Ok, mom. I do love him then.”

She is not satisfied. 

“Hmm, I like John a lot. He is a great person. Smart boy. I can tell even without speaking English. You can just tell these things.” She takes a sip from her coffee mug. 

“But there is something….not sure. He seems immature. He needs some time to grow up. And I am not sure how much time you have. You need to figure out what to do with your visa status. What you will do after you graduate. If he is not going to marry you or if this is not in his future plans, I don’t know if you should waste your time.”

“Mom!” I interrupt her. “I still have time for this. We haven’t been dating too long! Only a year!?”

She shakes her head. “Time goes fast. You need to start thinking about these things now. I would like to see you with someone mature, just a little bit older. John is a year younger than you, isn’t he?”

I nod. John is exactly one year and 20 days younger than me.

“Someone like Benjamin!” She smiles.

My mother met Benjamin during her visit too. I took her over to his office to introduce them and ever since then she keeps gushing about him. She thinks he is handsome. She thinks he is a grown up. She thinks he is mature. A man who could take care of her daughter.

“You need someone like Benjamin, Jarka,” she reinforces her opinion and I blush and roll my eyes.