A Wrong Decision, Ch. VIII
August 22, 2007
By J.D. Cook
Chapter VIII Hector and David
The bar was practically empty, with only David and another man, a latino, who sat just a ways down the bar drinking.
“Bartender, rounds for everyone here” said David, laughing.
The bartender didn’t look amused, but the latino gave a cheer of thanks, and moved closer to Wellington.
“I’m Hector,” said the Dominican man.
“Nice to meet you, Hector. I’m David Wellington”
“Busy night here?” asked Hector.
“Yeah, a friend told me this place was always packed.”
“Looks like he lied,” said Hector.
“To say the least,” laughed David.
After about an hour of meaningless conversation the two men stumbled out of the deserted bar slightly tipsy.
“Well, I’ve got some Corona at my place,” said Hector.
“Lead on,” said David.
The pair started off towards Hector’s house, talking along the way.
“So where are you from, Hector?”
“Since moving up from the DR, a little town up north called Hazleton.”
“Hazleton? Isn’t that the town that’s cracking down on illegal immigration?”
“Yeah and it’s causing all kinds of problems! It is fucking racist!”
Hector was visably upset.
“Well I don’t know about that. I mean they have a point, illegal is illegal.”
“So are saying that this country would be what it is without immigrants?”
“Not at all. But when you have too much immigration, too fast, and it’s mainly illegal it doesn’t allow for assimilation and we have a cultural divide.”
“Maybe we like are culture,” said Hector raising his voice a bit.
“I’m not putting down your culture at all. I’m just saying that people need time to adapt to each other that’s all. I mean, look at the Italians. When they came over they formed there own little culture to protect each other, and it resulted in organized crime which plagued the country for years afterward.”
“So now you’re comparing my culture to the Mafia?” said Hector now almost yelling.
“No. You’re not listening to what I’m saying,” said David.
Suddenly Hector’s rage turned into a laugh, and he suddenly moved in to kiss him.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I thought – I’m sorry,” said Hector.
“I’m sorry if you thought – it’s just I’m not,” said David patting Hector on the back as he stepped into the street, and was sent into the air by a car. Brakes could be heard as David remembered that his roommates had jokingly given him roofies, and told him he’d need them. Thousands of different scenarios popped into his head as he slowly backed away into the alley. He thought no one had seen him with Hector, and that the driver had stopped.
“It was an honest accident”, he told himself.
Hector was probably fine, and wouldn’t even remember him in the morning.