Final Exam For Clinicals

   I'm not sure why I was so nervous about my finals for Clinicals. Maybe I was just worried about having to retake the class. I mean how many times can I learn how to take vitals and the proper technique for injections before I'm bored out of my mind? As it is this stuff plagues me in my sleep. But, the point was I was nervous. We were to answer one hundred sixty two questions on the written portion of the exam. Followed on the next day by the practicals, a hands on exam. The written portion consisted of questions about Pediatrics, ECG's, and Intradermal, Intramuscular, and Subcutaneous injections just to name a few topics. Ofcourse, it didn't help that I waited hours before the exam to begin studying. That is so like me, waiting until the last minute to do things. But my mentalitly was this way the information would be fresh in my mind. I must have been onto something, afterall, I had been getting nothing but A's on all my exams. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but damn I'm good!
   Seven o'clock came around sooner than expected, that's when my class begins. I made my way into class still going over the material in my head. The students were all sitting at the tables in their prefered groups, just like in highschool. Jocks with jocks, the pretty girls at the vain table, there was even a table for the nerds, which is where I sat. What? I like to learn! The instructor started with the usual routine of telling everybody to put away their belongings, especially our cell phones. Cheating was not permitted and would lead to an automatic fail. And he reminded us that if we don't pass this exam, we don't pass the class and would have to retake it, at cost. Go figure.
   The exam was handed out, which I quickly began to work at like a starving vulture picking at the remains of a rotting carcass. One by one I answered the questions, astonished at the ease at which the answers came to me. Until finally I bubbled in the final answer on the scantron. Done. I got up from my seat surveying the students still racking their brains for the anwers they just couldn't remember. I realized that as usual, I was the first to complete my exam. The instructor adviced me that he would not be grading the exam until everybody had finished. Sounded like a good time to take a ciggerette break.
   I walked out onto the sitting area outside the building which consisted of a few metal tables and benches that looked like they needed a new coat of paint. I sat at the nearest and took out a ciggerete. I could feel the tension leave my body with each inhale I took from it. A few minutes later some of the other students began to wander out with worried expressions on their face. They started asking eachother how they thought they did or what they got a on a particular question. Which ofcourse no one had the same answer.
   Finally the instructor emerged and asked everybody back into class. The exams had been graded. Again I felt that pull at my stomach meaning my nerves were getting the best of me. Had I passed the exam? I found myself praying that I had. The instructor called the students in one by one into his dark, little office to relay their test scores. Everytime a student would come back out I would scan their face for any clue on how well or poorly they did. Until finally, I heard my name uttered from that dreaded room. I stood up and made my way over, not forgetting to cross my fingers for luck. Please let it be good news! I found the instructor sitting at his desk with my exam in his hand.
  
   "How do you think you did, Miguel?" my instructor inquired with a smug grin on his face.
  
   "Whatever, Tony. Just give me my grade, I'm nervous enough as it is!" I responded.
  
   He laid out my scantron on his desk implying I could see my grade. I just about pounced at it, scanning it for my grade. 94%. Relief. I had passed with an A!
  
   "Why were you so nervous? You know you got this shit. Estas Chingona!" joked my instructor Tony. He had made it a habit of reffering to me as a female since the only other gay guy in class, Abe, insisted on being called Ma'am on account that he dressed as a woman on the weekends.
  
   "I don't know what I'm more relieved about Tony. The fact that I passed, or the fact that I won't have to give you head for extra credit anymore!"
  
   "Pinche Miguel!" was all he managed to say, thrown off balance from my comment. "Maybe next time I'll make your test harder."
  
   "I like it when things get harder." I joked, obviously relieved now that I knew I had passed.
  
   I made my way back into the classroom giving a thumbs up to my friends at the table to let them know I had passed. I couldn't help but smile. I had finished Clinicals, finally. I grabbed my backpack and made my way out of the classroom and towards my car. I quickly updated my status on the social networks I spend hours on to let my other friends know the good news.
   I lit another cigerette as I buckled my seatbelt on. This definately deserves a beer. I decide to stop at the Circle K on the corner for a Tecate tallboy before heading home.

Mother's Problem

   The lights were all off and the curtains were all drawn. It would seem daylight was no friend here. I found myself smothered by the heat, feeling it wrap around me like a child's blanket. Would it kill this woman to open a window from time to time?
   The room was enveloped in silence with the exception of the people that walked by outside. I began my revision of the household, starting with the fridge. A half empty gallon of expired milk, a carton of eggs, tubaware with god knows what leftovers, and of course about six quarts of Bush, the nectar of the poor. I figured as much.
   I knocked on the bedroom door. No answer. I knocked a second time out of courtesy and let myself in. The stench of beer assaulted my nostrils immediately. The small television was set on the news but with no audio. This room too was dim as all the curtains were drawn here as well.
  I looked towards the bed to see my mother laying there, asleep. Wrapped in the tangled blankets. The bed surrounded with dozens of empty quarts, wrapping around like an army of toy soldiers. Here we go again with another of mother's drinking binges.

  "Mom, I'm here. How you feeling, everything ok?" I asked awakening my mom from her drunken sleep.

  "Mijo, when did you get here? I didn't hear the door." She never does whenever she's in this state.

  "I just came by to see if you needed anything mom. You eat yet? Want me to make you something to eat?"

  "That's ok baby boy, I'm not hungry. But do you think you can go to the store and buy me another beer? I need it for the cruda."

   "Another beer mom? You still have some in the fridge."

   "Yea, but I'm gonna need a couple for tonight. You know how I get at night with the shakes."

   I pretended not to hear this last request as I continued to look around the room. Newspapers thrown all over the place. Yup, that's my mom, drunk off her ass but she still tries to keep up with current events.

  "I'm gonna clean up a bit mom, ok?" I told my mom who must have still been waiting for an answer in regards to the beer judging by the expression she gave me.

  I began the routine of cleaning up the mess. Grabbing a black trash bag from the kitchen, where I noted the sink filled with dirty dishes. I wondered how so many dishes can get used when I know for a fact my mother doesn't eat when she's drinking. I started walking around the house picking up the dozens of empty beer cans and quarts. How much money could I get if I were to sell all these cans?
  I heard my mother make her way into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Followed by splattering sounds which meant my mother was throwing whatever she had left in her stomach into the toilet bowl. Disgusting. Upon coming out of the restroom, my mom made her way into the living room where I was opening up the windows to let some fresh air into the place. I turned to her and got a whiff of toothpaste. Well, at least she had the decency to brush her teeth after hurdling her guts in the bathroom.

   "How long you been drinking Ma?" I asked.

   "About a week son" she replied. Great, that meant at least two weeks, if not more.

   "I've been calling you but you never answer. You had me worried."

   "My phone got cut off again, motherfuckers!"

   "What do you mean? I gave you money to pay your phone last week mom." Damn, she must have spent it all on beer, again.

   "I'm sleepy son. Imma go into my room and take a nap, ok? I love you." she stuttered.

   "Yea mom, I love you too."

   She staggered off into her room while I continued tidying up the place. This was all too routine by now. It's been this way as long as I can remember. Back from when I was a little boy. I've come to live with the fact that my mother is an alcoholic. Which probably wouldn't be as bad if it weren't for the fact that she's also a single parent. That's right, I was raised by a drunk. It's no wonder why I love to drink as well. Even though I always promised I would never touch that wretched liquid that caused my family so much heartache.
  Don't get me wrong. My mother can be a great mother, that is when she's sober. And she goes long times without drinking a thing. And in moments like those, I realize why I say my mom is my best friend. But when she does slip, boy does she hit rock bottom. I remember falling asleep in class because I had stayed up all night tending my mother who swore she was dying due to the withdrawals. Nights I had to stay up and hide all the knives because mother decided life was just too much at the time and wanted out. Nights where I tended to my mother just so she wouldn't go wake my baby sister to do it in my place. No not her. Leave her out of this. And countless days like today, where I come over to clean and try to get my mom to eat something, anything.
  Growing up without a father has made me love my mom that much more. Because regardless of her illness, I feel she's done the best she can. She's fed us, clothed us, kept a roof over our head, and yes, put us through some fucked up shit also. But she is my mom, the only one I have. And that's why I can't do what my older brother and my younger sister have done. Which is out grow her and leave her behind. No I just can't. Yes, I would love to know more of the world. Leave this dust bowl of a city behind. But, something in me tells me that will never happen. Not as long as mother needs me by her side.
  And so I continue cleaning. Checking off items on my mental list. Sweep. Check. Mop. Check. Dishes. Check. Shoot myself. No check. Upon finishing my mother's chores, I write her a little note to leave on her dresser (Along with $30).

Mom, came by to see how you were. Cleaned up

a little (Especially the fridge) I threw out some of

the older newspaper, hope you don't mind. Here's $30

So you can get yourself whatever you need. I'll give

you a call later, answer this time please. I love you

lots!!! Call me if you need anything. The # is on the fridge.

Miguel Perez

   I kiss my mother on her cheek before leaving. Getting one last look at her. Please God, watch over my mother. Please don't let tonight be the night she chokes on her own vomit. Keep her safe and alive for another day. Because who knows, maybe tomorrow is the day she might decide to quit drinking. Maybe tomorrow is the day my mother will come back to me. Oh, who am I kidding? Maybe tomorrow will never come. Maybe tomorrow will just be another day in this endless cycle of watching my mom kill herself.

Sweet Escape

   Sitting in a corner of my room with nothing but my thoughts. Those cruel, heartless thoughts that plague me on nights like this. Alone, like always. God knows where he is tonight. Probably getting his dick sucked by some little boy he picked up at the adult store. After all, those are his favorite. Young, naive boys who say they're older than they really are, just now experiencing the wonders of the flesh. You can almost always convince those to do whatever it is you want that night. At least he did.
   He left over an hour ago, after our heated argument. He doesn't like me talking to my friends, and after going through my call history on my cell phone, he learned I did just that today. We argued, yelling every curse word in existence at each other. And when there was nothing more to say, he pulled his vanishing act on me once again. Serves me right for forgetting to erase those calls.
   How did I ever end up here? In this one sided relationship. I threw everything away for a chance at happiness with him. God, I was so stupid. I suppose I still am, I haven't left him after all. But then again, I probably never will. I love him, how could I? What a horrible feeling, being torn in half is. Part of me yearns for a way out, while the other side can't imagine a life without him. And so here I am, enduring this sick love. This love that takes more away from me than what it gives. I realize that now, I have for some time, but I'd never admit it.
   I never let on about my feelings. I'm too proud to let somebody see me down. Even he doesn't realize his actions are tearing away at my insides. How would he? I cry in the shower so he won't hear me, and I never forget to slap on a new smile once I'm out. But, I'm at that point now where it's becoming to difficult to do this. I feel like I'm too busy acting like everything is OK so that people won't worry. I'd hate to be a burden. It's exhausting keeping up appearances.
   Why go on? If this is the life I was meant to have, I don't want it. It isn't living anymore, it's dying a little more each day, a slow, painful death. I know what I have to do. If I can't be happy with him, and I won't be happy without him, it all has to end here. I'm the only one who can bring an end to this twisted carousel ride.
   I'm not sure when I grabbed the knife, I just know I held it firmly in my right hand now. I can't help but smile at the thought of what I'm planning to do, pressing the blade against my left wrist, ever so gently running the teeth across my skin. The blade calling my name, offering peace at last. Peace from what this existence has become. Sadness, insanity, tears for the man who cannot love me back. Can not or will not, I'm not even sure anymore, All I know is I'm tired of this shit, tired of it all. I just want to rest my troubled mind and tattered heart.
   I'm glad he isn't here. He won't be able to barge in and attempt to stop me. No sir, no one will know, until it's too late. And oh, how I bet they'll miss me then. They'll regret the way they treated me all these years. How they so conveniently forgot me here in this corner, left to fend for myself. The time they never made for me, they now will wish they had. Fuck you all! This is my final revenge. Now my name shall plague all of your minds, especially yours, my wretched lover.
   Without hesitation, I must do this now. Make it quick, no use in suffering anymore. I push down on the blade, ripping it across my wrist. The pain instantly shoots out in all directions like a spring of water. Except this isn't water, nothing so pure can come from me. I am after all the disease everyone turns away from.

   Blood, so much blood.

   Who would think so much blood coursed through these veins? I feel it running down my arm, hot and seeking a way to leave this crippled source behind. I look around me as I sink onto the floor, weak from the loss of blood I assume. I hear the carpet SQUISH beneath me, soaked in my crimson shame.
   I did it! No more of this sad life for me. I'm free. I guess I had the strength after all to leave you asshole! You can't hurt me anymore, not where I'm going.
   Why do I feel so thirsty? If I had known I'd be feeling like this I would have had enough sense to have a glass of water next to me when I did this. Oh well, that's all behind me now. Now, I have to simply wait for the comforting darkness, the eternal bliss that comes with death's kiss. Perhaps even happiness.
   I hear the neighbor's dogs barking outside as I lay down on the floor. Barking, they're always barking at nothing. Should have taken care of you guys first. Then that way I could have the silence I yearn for now. Let me close my eyes. Let me try closing my mind to everything that is around me, everything I'm leaving behind. No more barking. No more anything. Peace at last. And then silence most sweet.

Another Trip Into Juarez

 
    Making my way over the border, yet again. The walls on the bridge caked with all kinds of multicolored graffiti. One layer on top of the other, like some demented artist's masterpiece. The random discarded trash of by passers dancing in the wind across the floor along with everyday El Paso dust. And of course I can't leave out the foul odor of beer and urine that greets you as you make your way into Ciudad Juarez. But, I endure it. I have no choice. Not since some idiot decided to run his truck into the side of my car three weeks ago. Leaving me with the burden of trying to find ways to make my way around town to run everyday errands.
   To think this was my daily routine before. Hauling bags of my belongings across the US border, like some homeless with his precious collection of aluminum cans. I don't know how I used to do it. The very thought makes me sick now. The things one is capable of doing when it comes to love. You see, my partner lives in Juarez. That's why I've risked my ass coming into this forgotten corner of the world where drugs and crime reign supreme for the past four years. Coming daily into this little hell hole that so many women slaughtering pigs call home. Ahhhh Ciudad Juarez, some of my best memories are from here.
  But, that's a different story. Many in fact. Today is not one of those days. Today I have my tired legs, screaming for rest, to deal with. What a sight I must be for those passing by in the comfort of their vehicles, with their AC's on full blast, and some inaudible noise they dare call music streaming out of the speakers. Yes, what a sight indeed. My hair flat from the humidity, four engorged bags slung over my shoulders, and soaked in sweat. I really need to lose some weight. There isn't anything sadder in this world than an overweight faggot.
   As I reach the checkpoint, some short, pudgy, Mexican soldier motions me to stop.

   "Una revision joven." He says with a smug tone in his voice.
  
   I fling my things onto the green, plastic table he has beside him for this purpose without the courtesy of opening them for him. That's his job after all, isn't it? He continues on his mission to violate my privacy by sticking his dirty fat hands into my things. He fumbles through clothes, text books from school, shoes, you know, useless shit like that. He then starts with the assault of the usual questions, not once looking me in the eyes.

   "Where are you coming from? What do you do for a living? What's the purpose for your visit to Mexico?"

   I answer, of course, with my usual rehearsed lies," I'm taking time off of work in order to go to school full time, which is where I'm coming from. You see my badge? I'm coming to Mexico to spend the night with my grandmother, she lives here in Juarez."

   I always say I'm staying with this beloved, non-existent grandmother who is so ill she needs me to go spend the night with her. You see, they tend not to ask as many questions when you're going with your poor, sick grandma. Ha! If they only knew the real reason I was going was just to get my brains fucked out of me!

   "Adelante, buenas noches." He states, apparently satisfied with my answer.

   I gather my things and obediently continue on my path, not forgetting to notice the soldier checking my ass out as I walk away. Of course, I made an effort to move them more just for him. Old habits die hard.
   I find myself annoyed by the terrible thundering of the semi trucks pulling their cargo into Juarez. I try to ignore it as I walk through an endless pathway closed in by towering poles on either end. Hungry, steel teeth waiting to devour me. Upon emerging at the end, I'm instantly, ambushed by the litter of taxi drivers, like wild animals hunting their prey. Each offering me a better price for a ride than the one before.

   "Not tonight gentlemen." I state as I wave them away. Very much like you would wave at a pestering fly that won't leave you be. "I've already got a ride."

   I continue walking, leaving the drivers behind me to wait in the shadows for the next pedestrian. My eyes are set on the vendor standing at the corner, shouting at all the vehicles zooming past him. The sight of me reaching for my wallet was all he needed to abandon that and blunder in my direction. Money hungry bastard. I order a pack of cigarettes, Marlboro Gold Touch, which he quickly hands to me. I greedily open the pack and light a cigarette all before he can even hand me my change. He asks if I want some gum or a copy of the Diaro.

   "El Diaro? This fucking late in the day? You're fucking kidding me right?" I snatch my change and walk away laughing.

   I reach my little resting place in "El Parque Chamizal" and after laying my things down I stretch my aching arms. I survey my surroundings, skinny deprived trees with their trunks painted white, yellowing grass, broken cement littered with cigarette butts and stone hard gum, the Mexican flag waving proudly above me from a steel pole about three stories high, a greasy, caramel complected man with black holes in his sad face for eyes with a cart on the corner selling corn in the cup and the herds of pedestrians, with lost expressions, making their way to and from El Paso. Yes, all of this but no sight of my ride. Pulling my phone out, I look at the time. He's running late... again. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's waiting.
   I light another cigarette and become lost in my thoughts. Another weekend spent in Juarez. Another weekend to be lost among the hundreds of weekends spent here before. I hope my car is ready soon. It's been long enough already. I have half a mind not to pay the asshole fixing it the full amount he asked for. Why should I? He's taking his sweet time with it. Doesn't he realize how much I need it?
   My train of thoughts is shattered as Helio finally pulls up. I flick my cigarette into the busy street and pick up my bags off the dirty floor. Walking over to the car, I try smiling at Helio. It doesn't work. I throw my crap into the backseat and sink into the front passenger seat.

   "You're late" I hiss as I click the seatbelt on.

   "I'm sorry baby. It won't happen again" is his reply.
 
   Damn right it won't happen again. It better not if you know what's good for you. Helio reaches over and grabs my hand and suddenly, just like that, I'm not angry anymore. I lean over and give him a kiss on his cheek as we drive off into the bustling streets of Juarez.