24th of December, 2008
Years ago, when I was just nineteen years old, I was a lady much younger than who I am now, I had a family. I was a college senior under Psychology at Yale University, New Haven Connecticut, U.S.A. I was given the "Gimbel Scholarship", I had the highest academic standing. I had my parents' support.
That eve of Christmas, my parents, Sylvia Márina Polievka-Reed (My mother is a pure Slovak) and George Calhoun-Reed (My father is an American) surprised me and my brother with a small Christmas feast. There was chicken, cheese, yesterbread (a bread cooked from the day before and then heated the next day and sold at the bakeshop for a lower price) and hot Swiss milk. My dad just went home from his work as a train operator. I know, it is not the type of the job where you earn great wealth. But aside from my mother, father and my brother Leucas, it also serves as my motivation. Losing the Gimbel High Scholarship at Yale, would automatically abrogate my chance to study.
My mother, Sylvia came from a prominent Slovak family who stayed for vacation in USA. My father as a typical country boy tried his luck to court her, which eventually ended up with a disastrous result. Mother did not go back with her family to Slovakia, dipped her clothes into dog blood to make her dad think that she got assassinated. As a respected politician, Old Mr. Polievka made her death discreet to the Slovak government. Mother never saw her parents again. My parents tied the knot and crossed the perfect alleles to produce me. I became a dominant-dominant baby.I got all the good qualities of my mom and dad. I inherited my mother's red hair and deep European eyes. I got the shape of her Roman nose, but I did not end up as dark as she is. I became American White (complexion) as my dad, I also became a kid with a brilliant mind.
Okay, sorry for that segue.
That night of December the cold wind was tapping the small windows of our bungalow. The four of us barely fit the dining table of our home. I gotta admit, the audible dripping of cold melting snow from the roof holes to small tin cans mother collected over the week, since the leaks were expected were totally disturbing, but I had nothing to do. I am pretty sure the roof holes would drip more by the end of the season. I promise, if I get finished with my degree, I'm going to friggin fix this mess.
Leucas nibbled slowly at the thin film of cheese. Father, as the head of the family, cut the half chicken into four parts,just enough for the four of us. We ate as we talked about the previous Christmas, where my parents remind me of how much we changed in a year. They would talk about that "new"... "newly-bought" car.
My dad was able to buy a seventh-hand 1972 80 AMC Pacer, a car which is obviously in a really bad condition, but he managed to use it for train station and city rides.
I hate the fact that we had to end up poor. I hated the fact that my pure bred, rich Slovak, son-of-a-rich-government-officer mother accepted her defeat. I hated the thought of vagabonding around Yale, seeing my rich friends around while riding a seventh-hand, 1972 80 AMC Pacer. What would they tell me if they see me with that rotten thing? I am pretty sure they would wave their hands at me while riding their Volvos.
I could still vividly remember that day, when my dad drove me in front of Yale, proudly telling everyone that he had a "new" car. My father loved me so much, that even if our car's not a revving Lincoln Town Car, he wanted me to be happy.
"Jess, do you want it?" He asked, smirking.
"Huh? Want? Want what?" I asked, half sulking.
"The Babe!" Dad said with his comedic grin.
"Dad, faster! I'm gonna be late!" I said, now scowling at my own father.
"Okay, okay. Jess, I would be pleased to let you have the car."
