When I was 12, my mother sent my brother, Pedro, and me to the Dominican Republic for three months to stay at my grandfather’s home. I think she needed a break from raising two boys in the Bronx alone and wanted us to spend time with her father. Pedro and I were thrilled to share the Spanish language we’d inherited from our family. My grandfather was waiting for us in his beat-up 91 Nissan pickup truck. Every bump felt like the wheels would fly off.
It took me 22 years to go back to visit, and everything had changed.
He had us working the land
The green pasture and mountains of Santiago were a world apart from the 6-floor walk in New York. Here we slept in a bed with a mosquito net and heard the rooster and hens all night. In the morning, we were woken up by our abuelo’s words, “Vamos a trabjar,” which meant: time to work.” We went with him to the farm to be his ranch hands. It was exhausting.
In the evening, with mud on our boots, my brother and I scrambled onto his truck. He drove us back to his place, where a bowl of sancocho was waiting. He’d been farming for 60 years. At the end of our 90 days, I promised to return soon. I had no idea it would be 22 years until I could afford to take a vacation on my own dime.
I was broke
At home, I was broke, working odd jobs to afford clothes and sneakers. Mom worked 50 hours a week and moved us to Bergen County, New Jersey. Watching “The Lord of the Rings,” I decided I wanted to be an actor.
Against my mother’s wishes, I devised a plan to drop out of school to get exciting roles in the movie industry. She thought a secure position as a policeman, fireman, or teacher was a better route. But I blindly followed my movie dreams with no backup plan.
Moving to Manhattan, I paid $800 a month for a 60-square-foot apartment. I found a manager who helped me score an audition for a small theatre play. I played “suitor 1” and then landed a lead role in a web series. I won the role of an assassin navigating a dysfunctional family while executing hits for clients. It was chaotic, deeply unserious at times, and entirely thrilling.
But I could barely cover bills. Every weekend, I’d rush to the set after working at a restaurant, eventually getting fired for ordering an extra sandwich on my lunch hour. I was desperate to get my SAG card. This production demanded hours of unpaid work. My body ran on black coffee and sheer stubbornness, operating in a permanent state of fatigue. I’d finish a brutal double shift carrying heavy trays on my feet, race to the subway with a duffel bag slung over my shoulder, and try to look bright-eyed for an indie director who expected us to work until dawn for free.
I got a steady paycheck after years of hustling
Years bled into one another through cold studio apartments, couch surfing when I couldn’t afford rent, and endless auditions that went nowhere. Sick of poverty, I eventually took an office job in real estate, working as a project manager. That desk and steady paycheck became the quiet anchor I never knew I needed. It allowed me to finally breathe, pay bills on time, and slowly save. As my days settled into a predictable rhythm, the frantic, burning urgency of acting slipped away, its manic magic finally gone, leaving behind a different kind of life.
Dollar by dollar, the savings added up to a $1400 ticket back to the island. My brother was too busy with his wife and kids to join me. My grandfather wasn’t able to pick me up this time. He’d recently been diagnosed with early-onset dementia. At the airport, my uncle picked me up instead. As we drove down the highway into the city, he told me, “The farm is gone. We lost everything.”
Approaching my grandfather’s new home, which his children helped build for him, I saw him sitting in the kitchen. His hair was gray, his body not as strong as I remembered. I was afraid he wouldn’t recognize me, but once he saw me, we let out a big laugh.
“Look who it is!” he said as we hugged.
Staring at me, he asked, “¿Qué tú tardaste tanto en volver?” He wanted to know, “What took you so long to return?”
I smiled, held his hand, and answered, “Grandpa, I worked as hard as I could just to make it back to you.”
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