Cecilia Cortes
English 3
May 28, 2013
Should You Stay or Should You Go?




“Marcela take care of yourself. This is going to be a new experience for you, so make the most of it..” I always had problems with the way my cousin acted. Her stubbornness, and the attitude she could give you if she wanted to but mostly the thing that probably annoyed me the most is how she wouldn’t drop things and start problems with anyone that picked a fight with her(It’s one thing to argue but then there’s Marcela’s kinds of arguments). “I’m right you’re wrong kind of arguments”, they get old. It was a couple months ago when she had decided to join the military and serve with the Marines. She had completed her boot camp training with the marines and was to be sent to South Carolina for some more basic training. At first my sister and I were somewhat relieved that she’d be going away for a while, and I won’t deny it, but we were mostly relieved because we were praying to God that just maybe, maybe something good would come out of this experience. Maybe this opportunity would change her and put her on the right path. Just maybe there was the smallest, miniscule chance she’d change for the better…Before she left we decided to throw a small good-bye party for her with some close family. Of course my family was proud and happy for her (who wouldn’t be?). After everyone finished chomping away on dinner a cake was brought out that said, “Good Luck” on it. We all went around and exchanged kind words to her, mostly wishing the best. And after all the tears were shed and the snob wiped away we all said good-bye and went on our separate ways.


Over the past couple months Marcela had sent letters to us explaining to us how rough things were for her, how she missed all the food she wasn’t allowed to eat, and of course my parents being the loving, understanding kind of parents always did there best to respond to her letter. My sister and I were in our bedroom when we were blessed with the news that she’d be coming home soon. At fist my mind went haywire for some reason I still don’t know today but I think I was scared of her coming home, like I knew something bad was going to happen. Nervously I asked my sister, “Soo..what do you think about Marcela coming home?”

She was lying on the bed staring at her laptop’s screen, unblinking. She then bluntly said, “I don’t know… I don’t think that she’s changed.” I turned away and sat there on my bed. Now what? If my sister had a pretty darn feeling that things were even slightly better with Marcela then I had no option but to think the worst. Disappointed I sighed, “So much for the Marines straightening her out.” All I could think in my head was “Damn it all”, but I later calmed myself down thinking that we wouldn’t be the one to deal with her. Man how wrong was I? I soon forgot about Marcela coming back and things were going well, school kept me occupied for eight relentless, wicked hours as I sat on my ass class through class. I came home exhausted only to see that my bed had tossed foreign items on it. Confused, I went over to find my mom and ask her what was going on when I had the sudden feeling that there was another body in the living room. Walking to the living room was the worst kind of suspense I ever felt in my life. I knew what was there. I knew what was going to happen, and I knew exactly who it was. From the corner of the wall I saw a familiar, smiling figure sprung from its cover.

It was Marcela.

I’ll never forget the way she smiled at me. My cousin’s eyes seem so dull and opaque like something had died there. My cousin’s smile, the way she grinned, teeth glistening and all, disturbed me, and it dawned on me that something was horrible wrong. Not to mention that all her stuff and duffle bag was just lying there in the living room. Afterwards when we were eating dinner and she left to go visit a friend I was going to bring up the topic of the living arrangements I hope were coming our way. However, my sister beat me to it before I had a chance to say a word.
“Please tell me she’s not staying here??” my sister said pleadingly but slightly annoyed. My dad looked up from his food and shifted his gaze from me to my sister. As soon as I saw the look in his eyes I knew this was going to turn into an argument.
“Well what’s the problem with her staying here?” he said. The way he said those words were almost in a challenging kind of way. My sister being the kind to speak her mind to my parents simply replied that she just didn’t want her here. As the comments were exchange back and forth I had to step in.
Already upset I couldn’t help but bluntly and somewhat angrily spit out,” Well why can’t she stay with her dad? I mean it’s her dad!?” It went on like that for a while and it seem to me that by the end of our little dispute that my dad was leaving it up to us to decide whether or not she stayed here with us. Of course my sister knew that she didn’t want her staying with us, and the way she said it made it seem like she already knew what Marcela was going to be like before all of us. I couldn’t help but think about what I might do to my own family. On one hand I wanted to give her a chance to make me believe that she changed for better and that she won’t cause any problems for my sister or me. Though on the other hand from the last time she had lived with us for over a year not too long ago I couldn’t think of the bad crap that she did and how it literally nearly drove me insane. Everything in me was saying, “NO! Don’t do this it’s only going to end badly.” Stay? Or leave? That was the million dollar question. I couldn’t bring myself to think otherwise. There was something about her that when I saw her there was something twisted and wrong. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want anything to do with it all.

When she came home from her dad’s house she rang the door bell came in, and said hi to my parents and talked a bit, then she just went over to the living room and plopped down and went to bed. She stayed with us for the last couple of days and she just never left. In the end the decision I struggled for meant nothing. She was staying, and there was nothing I could do about it. What’s really funny and strange is how right my sister was about her. She hadn’t changed at all. She did what she wanted, not even telling my parents or anything, even though she was welcomed in our home and stayed as a guest. She totally disrespected my parents with the way she was acting, and she didn’t care.
Marcela later left a couple months later for combat training. And now she’s back once again. However this time she’s not staying with us. The decision was left to us.