1978 - Tenderloin District, San Francisco
Marci passed a man trying to come up the stairs. He stumbled and laughed to himself in the half-light of the dark stairwell. To nobody in particular, he blurted out “Oops…let’s try that again. His eyes widening and squinting, alternatively. Trying to gain a grasp of the moment.
Marci hurried by, acting as if he wasn’t there. His hair was in disarray and the vapor around him told her that he was full with alcohol; and she knew those weren’t safe combinations, based on the types of people that lived at the Cadillac.
They had rented a single occupancy room, in the Tenderloin at the Cadillac Hotel, on Eddy and Leavenworth. Their neighbors were a number of ex-offenders, drunkards, drug dealers and …show more content…
In the corner sat a worn dresser and a small table with two chairs. The walls were filthy and the chipped paint on the window sashes indicated the room had been painted numerous time, since it had been built. Clothing was strewn throughout the room and the small closet couldn’t hold any more.
Once her father had thrown her out of his house, Marci had quickly found a job waiting tables. Stalin took a job as a meat packer. It was far from the charmed life that Marci had grown used to; but there was something about adversity that agreed with …show more content…
She recognized the drill. “What guy?”
“Are you going to play games with me, Marci? You know what guy. The one that was eating you up with his eyes.” His face was turning red. “Who was it? Do you know him?” “You’re crazy, Stalin. I don’t even know who you are talking about.” She slid the iron along her uniform as the steam rose.
“See? That’s what I’m talking about. You always do this.”
“What?”
“What d’you mean, what? You always try to avoid telling me who these assholes are.” He slammed the book in his hand down on the counter. “Dammit Marci, you don’t fool me. I know you are seeing someone. Is that him?”
“Oh, Stalin, please! Not again. Look, I’m tired. I just got off of work. Can we not do this now?”
“I’m gonna catch you, Marci. You watch! And when I do, I’m gonna kill him. You got that, puta”
She flinched. He had never called her disgusting names before. Now, it was sinking to that?
She pulled the meat out of the refrigerator and seasoned it. The front door slammed. She rolled her eyes.
***
In June of 1980, the federal U.S. Immigration and Naturalization or INS agents rushed into a meat packing
Marci passed a man trying to come up the stairs. He stumbled and laughed to himself in the half-light of the dark stairwell. To nobody in particular, he blurted out “Oops…let’s try that again. His eyes widening and squinting, alternatively. Trying to gain a grasp of the moment.
Marci hurried by, acting as if he wasn’t there. His hair was in disarray and the vapor around him told her that he was full with alcohol; and she knew those weren’t safe combinations, based on the types of people that lived at the Cadillac.
They had rented a single occupancy room, in the Tenderloin at the Cadillac Hotel, on Eddy and Leavenworth. Their neighbors were a number of ex-offenders, drunkards, drug dealers and …show more content…
In the corner sat a worn dresser and a small table with two chairs. The walls were filthy and the chipped paint on the window sashes indicated the room had been painted numerous time, since it had been built. Clothing was strewn throughout the room and the small closet couldn’t hold any more.
Once her father had thrown her out of his house, Marci had quickly found a job waiting tables. Stalin took a job as a meat packer. It was far from the charmed life that Marci had grown used to; but there was something about adversity that agreed with …show more content…
She recognized the drill. “What guy?”
“Are you going to play games with me, Marci? You know what guy. The one that was eating you up with his eyes.” His face was turning red. “Who was it? Do you know him?” “You’re crazy, Stalin. I don’t even know who you are talking about.” She slid the iron along her uniform as the steam rose.
“See? That’s what I’m talking about. You always do this.”
“What?”
“What d’you mean, what? You always try to avoid telling me who these assholes are.” He slammed the book in his hand down on the counter. “Dammit Marci, you don’t fool me. I know you are seeing someone. Is that him?”
“Oh, Stalin, please! Not again. Look, I’m tired. I just got off of work. Can we not do this now?”
“I’m gonna catch you, Marci. You watch! And when I do, I’m gonna kill him. You got that, puta”
She flinched. He had never called her disgusting names before. Now, it was sinking to that?
She pulled the meat out of the refrigerator and seasoned it. The front door slammed. She rolled her eyes.
***
In June of 1980, the federal U.S. Immigration and Naturalization or INS agents rushed into a meat packing