I MARRIED A DUG DUG
by MARGARET DE LA TORRE WILKEY
I just stood and watched Jorge walk out the door, and sat on the stairs for I don't know how long, crying, hurting. Eventually I picked up the phone and called my parents collect. After I'd talked with my parents, Mike Ibarra came down the stairs and asked if I was allright. I told him that my parents were sending me a bus ticket and I would be leaving in a few days. And anyway, the boys were now talking about going to New York, so what sense would it have made for me to stay there? Mike seemed genuinley sad and concerned, and said he would miss Jorgie, who he and his brother Benny and many others in the house called Kruschev. He was blond and a little bald with a very round face, so the name seemed appropriate.
The next few days passed very quickly. When I told Jorge I was leaving, he seemed sad but also relieved. I think he was sad to see Jorgie go. Jorgie had been very sick that week, and I didn't have the money to take him to the doctor, so Jorge and I would take turns walking the floor with him. I look back now and I believe he may have had rhuematic fever. Jorge was so good with him during this time, I began to wonder, was I making a mistake leaving him? Doubt was flooding my mind, but then I remembered our final argument, and I knew I was making the right decision. My children had to come first.
What I wanted was for Jorge to love me again. to want to be with me, as he once did, but his personality was changing. Where was that innocent, funny guy I fell in love with at Mike's Bar? I missed his laugh, the one that made his eyes sparkle with joy. I missed his innocence. But most of all I missed him holding me in his arms at night, telling me of all his dreams.
On the day we left, Jorge and the band took us down to the bus station. There, a few fans recognized them and wantied to talk to them, but the band seemed more concerned about me and Jorgie. I had tears in my eyes as I held my son and said my goodbyes. Jorge was the last to say goodbye. We looked at each other, and for a brief moment I saw the look of anguish. But then he kissed me goodbye, and leaned down and kissed Jorgie on the top of his head. Then he turned around and left.
I boarded the bus on weak legs and a very heavy heart. This bus ride was going to be a long hard haul. There was no bathroom of course, and there was only one seat for me, I held my son on my lap, on top of the daughter growing inside of me, and off we went. The trip lasted for 3 days and nights. I had to change Jorgie's diapers on my lap, and find food for him on the way . I could have cared less about myself, and it showed.
When I arrived in Tijuana, my dad took one look at me and broke down crying, I will never forget his face. Here I was, skinny, owning just two sets of clothes, the one I was wearing torn under the arm. I must have reeked to high heaven, and my son looked almost dazed from the trip. Dad took me home and we settled in, and every day I waited for the mailman to come with a link to the man had loved so very much. Occasionally I would receive a letter from Jorge, talking of us getting back together. They were going to New York and he would make some good money, then buy us a house. All the things I wanted to hear, he wrote.
My daughter Lisa was born on February 4, 1968, in San Diego. Her father has only seen her a few times in her whole life. I lived for my children. I went to work, and took care of them with my parent's help. Jorge and I corresponded up till about 5 years ago, and then he suddenly stopped and wouldn't answer my letters. He has now moved on to another life. Jorge later had a son named Raphael with his ex-wife Linda, who also lives in San Diego.
I would like to thank all the people I met on this adventure, especially Armando Nava. He was a rock of stability in a tumultous world -- a kind, gentle spirit. Thanks also to Miguel Ibarra of Los Yaki for helping a poor American girl out when she needed it. Thanks to all the warm, gentle people of Mexico who showed kindness to me and my son. And finally, I want to thank Jorge de la Torre for the 2 most wonderful and beautiful children I could ever have imagined having, and for letting me live such an exciting life with him, as brief as it was. Oh, and one last thing... I have absolutely no regrets.
i
ii
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
|
