Babalu - Episode 103: Sisters, Fathers, Monsters

Opening Narrator: The following series addresses sensitive

topics including self harm and suicide. Listener discretion is

advised.

Uneasy Tiger Intro: Uneasy Tiger.

Sherry: But that's what happens when you get entangled with a

married man. More regret. Maybe that's the underlying meaning of

that song, that everything, no matter how awful, has to happen

so you can be right where you're at now. I'm the mother to a

spunky, brilliant baby girl. How could I regret that?

Luisa: Shit. Who's...

Oh, uncle. I'll call you back.

Sherry: I don't know if I believe in fate, but sometimes I

feel like my life isn't mine. Like, I'm in one of those toy

cars you put on a track, and my only option is to stay the

course. No matter how much I jerk the wheel, I always wind up

back on this path.

Whoa...

This is weird. I'm feeling deja vu as we speak. I've been

feeling a lot of deja vu lately, mostly when I'm doing something

mundane, but I was feeling this intense deja vu the other day

with Deb. I swear I felt it, and the next thing I knew, I

predicted what she was about to say. And then and then she said

it.

Weird. Jesus, maybe I have been here before. Debra told me that

I'm the annoying little sister she's always wanted. Little? I'm

eight months younger than her.

Wise ass.

Luisa: Mom...

Sherry: Debra does feel like a big sis, though, or at least

what I thought a big sis would be. God. Patti's face when I

told her that I was pregnant and the whole situation, She gave me

that look.

I hate that look. But maybe I deserve it. To my surprise, Jim

told Patti that it wasn't anything she

need- [Babalu cries]

Mama's coming.

Jim: Sweetheart, it's uncle. You know, your uncle Jim or you

might know me as my formal name, James Hillman. Oh, not to be

confused with the famous psychologist, James Hillman.

Just just your uncle Jim. The one used to call and talk to,

visit.

Well, haven't

heard from my girl in a while and I was just sitting here

wondering if you still like that Sensodyne toothpaste. I I had a

$2 off coupon here with your name on it. Okay. Oh, auntie

says we're going to dinner soon. That'll be nice.

Alrighty. Bye bye.

Dad on Elevator: Hold the elevator, please. Thank you.

Daughter on Elevator: Daddy, we almost missed the elevator.

Dad on Elevator: I know, hon.

Luisa: Floor?

Dad on Elevator: Oh, 10, please. Thank you.

Daughter on Elevator: I can count to 10. I can count to 100.

Dad on Elevator: I know you can because you're so smart.

Daughter on Elevator: Can I show you?

Dad on Elevator: Yes. But quietly.

Daughter on Elevator: Okay? Okay. Miss, I can count to 100.

Luisa: You can?

Daughter on Elevator: Yeah.

My dad taught me.

Luisa: That's wonderful.

Daughter on Elevator: Can I show you?

Luisa: Oh, next time?

Daughter on Elevator: Yeah. Next time.

Dad on Elevator: Have a good one.

Luisa: You too.

Daughter on Elevator: Daddy, count with

me. One.

Dad on Elevator: Two.

Simone: No.

No. No. No. Yeah. I bet he does.

Come in. Sorry. Almost done. Look, Val. I can whip up some

magic, but I can't work miracles.

Michael's a good writer, but he's not Stephen King. Okay?

Uh-huh. Yeah. You can absolutely tell him I said that.

Simone: Okay. Okay. Uh-huh. Bye. I'm so sorry, Luisa.

This writer, let's just say he's a PITA: pain in the a--

Luisa: Yeah. I can imagine.

Simone: Men. Am I right? Yeah. Anyway, back to you. Contracts

all signed.

Luisa: Yep. All done.

Simone: Are you so excited?

Luisa: I'm so excited.

Simone: Luisa, you ready to write a bestseller?

Luisa: I'm ready to write. Whether or not it's a bestseller

is up to the universe.

Simone: It's a bestseller, my friend. Trust me. You trust me?

Luisa: I trust you.

Simone: Good. I would never steer you wrong. Now did you

have a chance to read the brief about Gloria?

Luisa: Yes. Oh my god. What a tragic and courageous woman. I

I'm I'm so honored to be able

to work on this.

Simone: Oh, it's so sad. That's why it's gonna be a bestseller.

I'm gonna have a courier drop off all the notes and research

and whatnot that we have left over from our previous writers,

which you

can take or leave.

Luisa: Oh, previous writers?

Simone: Oh, we've had a couple writers come and go on this

project. They weren't the right fit. You know?

Luisa: Sure.

Simone: But that's okay because we learned from that, and now we

have you. Yay!

Luisa: Yay.

Simone: Like I said, Gloria is a force to be reckoned with. I

mean, of course, she is. She survived the massacre of her own

family for god's sake.

Luisa: Right.

Simone: But I don't doubt for one second that you are the

person for this project. Third time's a charm. Right?

Luisa: Right.

Simone: Have you watched her docuseries yet, On the Linoleum

Floor?

Luisa: Not yet, but it's on my list.

Simone: I think it's trending in Netflix's top five. People are

gobbling it up. Definitely give it a watch.

Luisa: I yes. I think I'll wait to

watch it until after I have my first meeting with her so that

she's my frame of reference.

You know?

Simone: So how familiar are you with Gloria's story?

Luisa: As of right now, my only reference is what's outlined in

the brief. I'm a bad millennial. I don't really watch a whole lot

of true crime, but this is the part I love the most about

writing nonfiction, the discovery.

Simone: Yes.

Yes. See, I knew you were right for this. I can already see the

pages in my head. But seriously, you gotta watch the docuseries.

It's traumatizing.

Luisa: With a title like "On the Linoleum Floor", I wouldn't

expect anything less.

Simone: Oh my god. Yes. So that's a reference to how she

was well, I'll let you discover that for yourself.

Luisa: I appreciate it.

Simone: I'm telling you, Luisa, bestseller.

Okay. I gotta jet to my next meeting.

Here. I'll walk you out.

Luisa: Okay.

Simone: So any last questions before we part ways?

Luisa: Just one.

Simone: Mhmm.

Luisa: Do you have any advice for my first meeting with

Gloria?

Simone: Great question.

Dani: Simone, your 2:30 is in the conference room.

Simone: Oh, thanks, Dani. My advice for you.

Luisa: Oh.

Simone: Don't take anything she says personally. So great seeing

you, Luisa.

Talk soon. Okay. Bye.

Luisa: Okay... Bye.

Jim: Hello.

Luisa: Uncle.

Jim: So you do remember me?

Luisa: Yes, uncle.

Jim: You calling about the coupon?

Luisa: Not exactly.

Jim: No. But you'll take the

coupon.

Luisa: Sure.

Jim: I'll leave it at the shop for the next time you stop by.

How are doing on toilet paper?

Luisa: Good. I think I'm good. Are you clipping coupons as we

speak?

Jim: Yes. I'm gonna give you this coupon for $3 off any

Charmin toilet paper. And no such thing as too much TP. So

what's shaking, kid?

Luisa: Oh, not much. You know, just getting myself situated for

the memoir job, and that's pretty much it.

Jim: Yeah?

Luisa: Yeah.

Jim: And that's going good?

Luisa: Yeah. It's just, you know, taking up a lot of my time

these days.

Jim: Well, I know you're a big deal now, but you forget us

little people.

Luisa: I'm not a big deal, and I can never forget you.

Jim: Promise?

Luisa: Promise.

Jim: Good.

Hey. Where are we going out for dinner?

Luisa: Where do you wanna go? Cheesecake Factory?

Jim: You know I love their pumpernickel bread.

Luisa: Oh, yes. So good.

Jim: Hey. How about Hamburger Helper?

Luisa: For dinner?

Jim: Yes. No.

For for for you. I I've got a buy one, get one free coupon for

a hamburger helper. You still like the beef stroganoff? You

loved that as a kid.

Luisa: Uncle, my taste has matured since then.

Jim: So no coupon?

Luisa: Yeah. I'll take the coupon.

Jim: Yeah. Yeah.

Dropping it into the coupon pile. ["Geronimo" whistle]

Stroganoff is the best hamburger helper flavor.

Luisa: Stroganoff is the best hamburger helper flavor.

Jim: Cheesecake Factory then.

Luisa: Whatever you and auntie want.

Jim: Well, we wanna celebrate our girl. That's what we want.

Doesn't matter where.

Luisa: I know.

Hey, uncle. Did auntie tell you about my car accident?

Jim: Oh, the fender bender? Yeah. Is everything alright?

Luisa: Yeah. No. Everything's fine. Insurance folks are, you

know, working everything out. I I was just curious if auntie

mentioned the person who hit me.

Jim: I I don't think so.

Luisa: Oh, well, it's this woman, Debra. She actually knew

my mom. They were friends in school. This is wild. Right?

Like?

Jim: Really? Wow. That's yeah. That's something else.

Luisa: Yeah. Anyway, she also met auntie, like, way back when.

You don't remember her?

Jim: I no. I can't say I do. When you get to my age, you just

Luisa: I I know. I I was just curious.

So what else is shaking?

Jim: Not a whole lot, kid. Just living the dream.

Luisa: You're distracted by coupons again.

Jim: I hit the jackpot. Oh. Yeah. Buy one LaCroix 12 pack.

Get one free.

Luisa: Oh.

Jim: You taking it?

Luisa: You know I love LaCroix.

Jim: It's going in the pile.

Sherry: I've been thinking a lot about chance lately. Chance

encounters, all the choices, big or small, that had to be made or

not made in order for two strangers to cross paths. Why do

we cross paths with hundreds, maybe thousands of people in our

lifetime and connect emotionally with only a select few if we're

lucky. And why do we have that spark, that romantic jolt of

electricity with an even smaller group of people, at least for

me. I've only felt that with maybe a handful of people.

The first time I ever felt it was with Sam.

Luisa: Sam?

Sherry: And that was unexpected. I wish things could have been

different. An older couple came into the bar tonight.

I think they were in their seventies, eighties. Anyway,

I've never seen them before, and everyone kinda stopped and

looked at them because they just looked so out of place. I've

been at Rick's for a few years now, and I cannot say that I've

ever seen an elderly couple come in, especially like these two.

They were so cute, like, dressed to the nines. The guy had on,

like, a three piece suit, and the woman had the cutest pillbox

hat sitting on top of her bouffant hairdo.

They were something else. I couldn't take my eyes off of

them. I'm watching these two elderly adults look at each

other like they were teenagers in love. And I thought, is this

new love? Or like, did they meet recently?

Or are they like high school sweethearts who never lost that

spark? There's a magic to it though. That spark you feel with

someone, it's special and rare. When I was a kid, my dad told me

that he felt that spark only once in his life and it was when

he met my mother. And he said that spark was the best and the

worst thing that ever happened to him.

And then he laughed because at the time it was funny. Little

did he know. So, yeah, I know what you mean now, Dad. It's

called a spark for a reason. It burns.

Can you imagine a man from China meets a woman from Vietnam in

Los Angeles, California on a bus? A bus that she wasn't even

supposed to be on. What are the chances? Maybe this deja vu I

keep feeling isn't a feeling. Maybe it's history repeating

itself.

A friendly reminder from fate that we never had a choice.

Trey: I definitely identify with AJ.

Luisa: I don't know. You feel more like a Nick Carter to me.

Trey: Nick Carter? The worst Backstreet Boy?

Luisa: I'm sorry. Excuse me. Not sure I heard you correctly?

Trey: I said Nick Carter is the worst Backstreet-- Like, good.

Everyone, gather. He's the worst. Change my mind.

Luisa: Okay.

First of all, there's no such thing as the worst Backstreet

boy. They all have their merits. Second, AJ was the bad boy. No

offense, but you don't come off as the bad boy type. You don't

even have a pierced ear.

Trey: I'm a bad boy at heart? Okay. Hear me out. AJ was like

the deep, soulful one of the group.

Luisa: Mhmm.

Trey: Like, if look

Trey: into his eyes, you'd think this guy has layers. Am I right?

Luisa: He totally did.

Trey: Okay. You see what I'm saying? In that sense, I am like

AJ, not some basic ass Nick Carter.

Luisa: Okay. I see. Well, I'd be a bit more convinced if you at

least had a tattoo.

Trey: Oh, I have a giant back tattoo.

Luisa: Really?

Trey: I do not. Do you?

Luisa: No.

Trey: Yeah. I'm not a fan of needles.

Luisa: I'm not a fan of having something tattooed on my body

forever.

Trey: I don't know. I'd like to get a tattoo one day.

Luisa: Yeah. What would you get?

Trey: Oh, probably something dedicated to my dad and my mom.

Luisa: That's sweet. You all must be very close then?

Trey: Yeah. I'm really close to my dad. My mom and I were close

too before she passed.

Luisa: I'm so sorry.

Trey: Oh, I was nine. It was a long time ago.

Luisa: It doesn't matter how long ago it was. Loss is always

hard even when you're so young.

Trey: Sometimes I think I haven't really processed it, if

that makes sense.

Luisa: It does.

Trey: I mean, was just a normal day. Right? She drove me to

school. She said, see you later. And then she went to work, and,

she had a heart attack.

Luisa: Trey, that's

Trey: No. Sorry.

Luisa: That's awful.

Trey: I don't wanna bring down the vibes. Sorry.

Luisa: No. You're not. We're talking.

Trey: Okay. Thank you. Well, since then, it's just been me

and my dad. You know? He's my dude.

My mom, she was stellar. So when I get my big back tattoo, it'll

be in their honor.

Luisa: I'm sure your parents would be so proud.

Trey: How about you?

You close with your mom and dad?

Luisa: Yeah. We're close.

Trey: That's good.

Not a lot of folks have that, you know, good relationship with

their parents.

Luisa: Yeah.

Trey: Got any siblings?

Luisa: No. I'm an only child too.

Trey: Well, explains a lot.

Luisa: What do you mean?

Trey: You got that only child vibe.

Luisa: And what does that mean?

Trey: Oh, just that

you're smart, hot, and you're fucked up like me.

Luisa: Wait. You think I'm hot?

Trey: You think I'm hot?

Luisa: I asked you first.

Trey: Yes. I think you're hot.

Luisa: Nice. Also, what makes you think I'm fucked up?

Trey: Wait. You have to answer my question.

Luisa: Yes. I think you're hot.

Trey: Hell yeah.

Luisa: Seriously, though. Do I give off fucked up vibes?

Trey: You know, based on the little information I have about

you so far, yes, a bit. But the best people are.

Luisa: I guess.

Trey: You wouldn't be a good writer if you weren't at least a

little fucked up.

Luisa: How do you know

that I'm a good writer?

Trey: Because you have a deal with a big publisher.

Luisa: Maybe I'm a crap writer who got lucky. That happens a

lot.

Trey: Nah. You're a good writer. I can tell. Here. I'll prove it.

One sec.

Luisa: What are you looking for?

Trey: Shut up. Shut up. Hey, boss. Do you got a pen I could

borrow?

Bartender: Sure.

Trey: Thank you.

Luisa: What what's happening here?

Trey: So this is a napkin. This is a pen. You might have

encountered them before.

Luisa: Mhmm.

Trey: I bet you could write something beautiful with just

this.

Luisa: You want me to write something beautiful on this

napkin?

Trey: I do.

Luisa: Oh, okay. Should I also stand up and do a tap dance

while I'm at it?

Trey: Oh, sure. If that sounds fun. Come on. Just write

something, anything.

Luisa: For what?

Trey: For

me to keep. As, like a token.

Luisa: Are you being serious right now?

Trey: Dead serious.

Come on. Just a

little something. Maybe a poem.

Luisa: Now you want a poem?

Trey: It doesn't have to, like, rhyme.

I don't know.

Luisa: I'm not a poet.

Trey: Well, I I don't know. I think there's something poetic

about you.

Luisa: If that's the case, then you write something.

Trey: Well, I'm I'm not the writer.

Luisa: Everyone's a writer. Also, aren't you a product

marketing, what? Product, what did you say your title was?

Trey: Product marketing manager.

Luisa: Yes. Product marketing manager. You're telling me that

you don't have to write for that job?

Trey: Okay.

Luisa: Mhmm.

Trey: Don't look. I gotta concentrate. Okay.

Luisa: Oh,

not so easy. What you working on over there?

Trey: You don't don't ask questions you know the

answers to.

Luisa: Can I look now?

Trey: Almost. Mhmm. Keep singing game show songs. That's helpful.

Okay.

Okay.

Luisa: See? It's not easy, huh?

Trey: Yes. I think this could be my Sistine Chapel.

Luisa: Ohh hot dog.

Trey: You ready?

Luisa: Yeah.

Trey: K.

Close your eyes. Okay. Open.

Luisa: "She's a mango woman. I'm a mango man, and AJ is the best

Backstreet Boy." This is your Sistine Chapel.

Trey: Thank you.

Luisa: Also, can I just say that I appreciate that you wore a

Hawaiian shirt?

Trey: Thank you for finally noticing.

Luisa: It's the first thing I noticed when I saw you.

Trey: I mean, I get it. When I see a sexy man in Hawaiian

shirt, my mind goes blank too.

Luisa: That's not at all what I said.

Trey: You insinuated it.

Luisa: I think you've had too many mango coladas.

Trey: That is possible. This has been fun.

Luisa: Do you have to run?

Trey: No. No. No. No. Sorry.

I'm just saying, this was, this is fun.

Luisa: Very fun.

Trey: Can I tell you something? I I I hope it doesn't... I see a

therapist.

Luisa: That's great.

Trey: One of the things I've been working on with her is

situations like tonight.

Luisa: Okay.

Trey: I sometimes get this anxiety. Kinda hard to explain.

I was close to texting you and bailing on you tonight. And now

sitting here, that seems...

Luisa: I'm glad you didn't.

Trey: I'm glad you left your mangoes behind.

Luisa: Yeah.

What are the chances?

So what's the title of your masterpiece?

Trey: "Mango Woman."

Luisa: Mango Woman. I like it.

Trey: Me too.

Luisa: Reina, I'm just driving home from my date. It was a

really good date. He was fun and funny, like legit funny and

vulnerable. Think I like this guy. Fuck.

Anyway, let's catch up soon. There's some interesting

developments from my mom's tapes. God. Let's just say the

last twenty four hours have been a lot of highs and a lot of

lows. Anyway, call me whenever.

Love you.

Sherry: It's raining. You see that, Babalu? That's rain. Rain.

Listen.

It's so nice, baby girl? Mama loves a rainy day. Yeah. You

like the rain too?

Luisa: I love it.

Oh, hi, doggy. You protecting? Yeah. You protecting. After all,

this is your territory.

You're just doing your job.

But I need to come in, sweet dog.

Gloria: Come here. Hush up now.

Luisa: Spock? What a cute name.

Gloria: He looks like Spock, doesn't he?

Luisa: He actually does.

Gloria: Luisa, I presume.

Good boy.

Luisa: Your presumption is correct. It's so good to meet

you, Gloria.

Gloria: Is it? Come. Follow me. Luisa, I don't allow just anyone

into my home. So have a seat here.

I'll be right back. Spock, keep our guest company.

Luisa: You're just a little softy, aren't you?

Yeah. You're just a little softy. Hi...

Gloria: You like lemonade, Luisa?

Luisa: I'm not a monster, so yes.

Gloria: Well, I'm sure even monsters enjoy a glass of

lemonade.

Luisa: You're probably right.

Gloria: I am right. Monsters love the same things the rest of

us do. Lemonade, dogs, sunshine, music. They just love the bad

stuff too. You ever encountered a monster, Luisa?

Luisa: I'm not sure.

Gloria: I'm sure you have. Evil is everywhere. You know, in

Cheyenne culture, they warn against allowing strangers into

your home willy nilly in case that person may be carrying in

some evil. Evil they may not even be aware they possess.

What about you, Luisa? You got any evil on you?

Luisa: Well, I sure hope not. But I don't know. I I don't

believe anyone's entirely good or entirely bad. Good people do

bad things. Bad people do good things.

I hope that I'm one of the good people who occasionally does bad

things, but who can say for sure?

Gloria: Right on. You're from LA?

Luisa: Yes, actually. I grew up in the San Gabriel Valley,

Alhambra.

Gloria: How far did you live from me?

Luisa: How far did I live from you?

Gloria: From my family's home.

Luisa: Oh, right. Because you your family lived there. I don't

know.

I I can't say I mapped it out. Should I have?

Gloria: I'm just surprised is all. Every single one of you

writers that I've had the pleasure of working with seem to

know more about my life than I do. A bunch of armchair

detectives who've memorized all the facts and details about my

life.

Luisa: Oh, yeah. I I can see that.

Gloria: And these so called woke fools who are so obsessed with

the murder of my family, yet somehow felt triggered after

having a simple conversation with me. That's your generation,

though... triggered,

woke, weak.

Luisa: I'm sorry that's been your experience, but it doesn't

surprise me. A lot of true crime writers wanna be the next

Michelle McNamara, you know, with the next true crime

bestseller, but that's not my... Well, I'm not sure if I should

be admitting this to you, but I'm probably not the best person

for this job.

Gloria: Is that right?

Luisa: I mean, don't get me wrong.

I'm a solid writer, at least I think I am, and I want to work

on your life story, but I'm not a true crime writer. And I don't

even like the stuff. Anywho, I was given really detailed notes

about your history from those writers, which I haven't read

yet because, well, like I said, I'm kinda scared. No. No.

Very scared, to read about that night and what you went through.

I'm like the only millennial woman who doesn't fall asleep to

the sweet sounds of a true crime show. Frankly, that stuff makes

my stomach turn. And I hate even using those words, true crime,

to describe your story, but that's what everyone is calling

this. So, also, I don't really care about some other person's

notes because those are their notes and not mine, and I want

the chance to get to know you on my own, you as a whole person,

and not just for that traumatic event.

Because you and your life is so much more than just that. And a

memoir is meant to retell the story of a life, not just a

moment. And no. Oh my god. I I I am not trying to diminish what

happened to you and your family because that was horrendous. But

it's not your whole story, nor should it be.

At least, that's my take.

Gloria: Well, alright. How's the lemonade?

Luisa: It's fantastic. Thank you. Oh, shoot. I forgot. Do you

mind if I record our sessions?

Gloria: Are you serious?

Luisa: Yes.

Gloria: No. No. About that. Why on earth are you recording on

that, not on your phone like all these other kids?

Luisa: I know. It's, uh-- I'm actually gonna record them both

just in case one

of them fails.

Gloria: Let me see that.

Luisa: Oh.

Gloria: My goodness.

My daddy had a cassette recorder just like this.

Luisa: Funny. That belonged to my mom.

Gloria: This thing is in really good shape.

Luisa: It was tucked away for many years. If you can believe

it, you can still buy blank cassette tapes.

So here I am.

Gloria: My dad loved his electronics. I swear, his

favorite place on earth was Radio Shack. We'd stop there

every Saturday.

Luisa: Oh, I'm I'm sorry. Can I--

Gloria: Right.

Luisa: And we are recording. So your dad?

Gloria: Yes, my dad. He was a funny man. He loved his gadgets.

He always had to have the latest doohickey to add to his

collection. God.

If he was alive today and see everything we have now, he'd

lose his damn mind.

Debra: I'm not

quite sure how I feel about this

boba drink yet.

Luisa: I understand. It takes some adjustment.

Debra: I do like the milk tea.

Luisa: I'm glad.

Debra: It's the

chewing my drink part that is giving me pause.

Luisa: Listen, Debra.

Luisa: I don't work for Big Boba, so I have no skin in the

game here. I'm just a boba enthusiast.

Debra: Well,

thank you for introducing me to it.

Luisa: You are most welcome.

Debra: For a split second there, I thought you were Sherry.

Luisa: Yeah?

Debra: I mean, of course, you look like Sherry, but that's not

what I'm getting at. You sound like her. Something about the

way you talk and the way you say things.

Luisa: Yeah?

Debra: Yeah. It's it's very sweet. Even the way your mouth

moves when you talk reminds me of Sher. It's surreal.

Luisa: Mhmm.

Luisa: Yeah. It's funny how even minute things like that can be

passed down. Nature versus nurture. Am I right?

Debra: Sometimes nature just cannot be denied.

Luisa: So speaking of, I've been listening to the tapes. Right?

And my mom has mentioned my father, my biological father.

Mhmm. But she didn't say much at least in in what I've listened

to.

And I was hoping that maybe you could shed some light.

Debra: Gosh. I don't know very much. I do remember asking her

about him because, you know, we met when you were just a baby,

and I never saw him coming or going. All I know is that Sherry

felt a lot of shame around that relationship because he was

married at the time.

Luisa: Yeah. She mentions that.

Debra: Oh, okay.

Luisa: Does the name Sam ring a bell?

Debra: No.

Luisa: She mentions a Sam. Did you ever happen to meet my

uncle, Jim?

Debra: Yes.

Yes. At your your mother's funeral.

Luisa, this must be a lot to process.

Luisa: Yeah. It is.

Debra: I'm so sorry.

Luisa: It's okay. Sorry.

I hope you don't think that I invited you out just to

interrogate you.

Debra: No. Please. I'm glad to shed any light I can.

Luisa: Do you know the details about my mother's death? I know

that she was found in the bathtub, but I don't really know

much else, like if she left a note.

Debra: I don't know if she left a note. But how much do you

wanna know?

Luisa: Everything you know.

Debra: Again, it's

not a whole lot. As you know, she was found in the bath.

Luisa: Do you know who found her?

Debra: Your uncle, Jim.

Luisa: Oh.

Debra: Her

wrists were cut. They found a bottle of sleeping pills nearby.

And I... that's that's everything I know. So, so sorry,

Luisa. I know this might be hard to believe because I only knew

your mother for a short time before she passed, but Sherry

was my best friend.

I wish I knew then what I know now. Maybe I could have done

something different to help her.

Luisa: I don't find that hard to believe. She talks very fondly

of you, you know, on the tapes.

Debra: She does?

Luisa: Very much so.

Debra: Oh, Sher.

Luisa: You really never listened to the tapes, not even a little

bit?

Debra: No, actually. Have you ever driven home but can't

remember how you got there? I'm not talking about driving

intoxicated or something like that. I mean those moments when

your mind and body go into autopilot. That day that I

cleaned out your mom's apartment and took the tapes, I drove

home, but I don't remember how I got there.

All I remember was sitting in my car, looking over at my

passenger seat, and seeing the box of tapes sitting there. And

then I took that box and put it on the top shelf of my bedroom

closet. I thought that one day I would find you. And then the box

sat in that closet until I moved out of that apartment into the

house I'm in now. I remember packing my things and coming

across the box again, and I thought of you.

But then I moved, and the box went into my attic, and life

happened. And it happened so fast, so fast. It's as if I

blinked and decades went by. Everything feels like it was

just yesterday, but also a lifetime ago.

I'm sorry that I didn't try to find you.

Luisa: Maybe we were meant to find each other.

Debra: I think you're right. Sometimes the only solution is

time, and maybe that's

what was needed for both of us.

Luisa: You know, I'm older than my mom was when she recorded

those tapes.

Debra: Yes.

Luisa: Yet, in a lot of ways, I still feel like a big baby.

Debra: Trust me. That never goes away. Are you trying to find

your father?

Luisa: I don't know. Maybe. Is it weird that throughout the

years, I never really thought about him?

Debra: Why do you think that's weird?

Luisa: I just feel like people in my situation who don't grow

up with their biological parents, they tend to think

about them, fantasize about them, romanticize them, and I've

always, always thought about my mom, but I may have thought

about my father a handful of times. Give me your professional

opinion here. Am I a psychopath or something?

Debra: I don't think that's the case. But maybe it's worth

exploring what a fatherly figure means to you and who may have

already fulfilled that role in your life.

Luisa: Yeah.

Debra: And look, it's perfectly okay if you do wanna find him

now or if you don't.

Luisa: Right.

Debra: I would like to ask you a personal question that is a

question for you to answer for yourself, not me.

Luisa: Shoot.

Debra: Have you ever considered working with a therapist to help

process and unpack all of this?

Luisa: Oh, I mean, I don't mind answering that for you. No. I

haven't because I am a psychopath.

Debra: Well, of course, I'm biased, but I encourage you to

think about it.

Luisa: Are you taking new clients?

Debra: Yes. But you can't be one of them. It's unethical to work

with anyone I have a personal connection to.

Luisa: Yeah. But you already know a lot of the history, so I

don't have to spend all that time and money retelling it to

someone new, which is super convenient.

Debra: Convenience isn't

the goal.

Luisa: I suppose you're right.

Debra: So I think I'm starting to enjoy this boba.

Luisa: Oh, yeah?

Debra: Mhmm.

Luisa: The bosses at Big Boba will be so delighted.

Debra: Mhmm.

Sherry: Ugh, I hate poetry. I mean, I don't hate poetry. I

just don't like this poetry class. I mean, I do like this

class. It's just hard, I guess.

Here, I was thinking, oh, yeah. Poetry. No problem. Easy street.

Check off the elective box.

But I'm no poet. We were given a simple assignment for this week,

a simple four line stanza about anything. This should be easy.

Right? But but I'm really struggling.

This class is kicking my ass. God... Class... Ass... I guess I

am a poet. I don't know.

I keep rereading this poem we read in class, Chinatown Talking

Story by Kitty Tsui. "Born into the skin of yellow women, we are

born into the armor of warriors." I've never felt like

a warrior. I've been forced to fight in ways that I didn't ever

think I'd have to. Maybe that's the message, that it's inherent

to us to have to fight all the time.

This poem got me thinking about my mother. She was a fighter.

Maybe if she had stayed, things would have been different. Maybe

she wouldn't have let Patti be so awful. I don't know why this

memory popped into my head earlier.

I must have been a freshman in high school. I came home from

school one day and Patti was waiting in the living room for

me. And I'm thinking, here we go. And she's asking to see my

report card, all authoritative like she is. So I said something

along the lines of, "no, that's for dad, not you."

And I started to walk away and suddenly I'm getting yanked

back. She grabbed me by my ponytail, and now she's

screaming, "Give me your report card, give me your report card!"

like some lunatic. So I'm screaming, "No, no!"

And we're basically yanking each other's hair out. And finally, I

throw my book bag at her just to get her off of me, And her eyes,

they were so wild, like she was possessed. She was hell bent on

finding that report card, tearing through my bag, ripping

apart my folders and notebooks. And of course, she found it.

God.

The look of satisfaction on her face when she saw my grades,

that they weren't perfect straight A's like hers. I'll

never forget how she looked down at me and said, "You're just

like her." That year was the first time I ever fantasized

about killing myself. I've thought about it since, but not

as much. I can't keep blaming Patti.

She's changed. She's not a total monster. Funny enough, I think

Patti was on to something. Maybe I am just like my mother.

[hum-sings] She's never satisfied...

I think that's why our dad fell in love with her. She was always

just out of reach. Isn't that life, though? Falling for the

ones who won't love us, can't love us, the way we love them.

Like Patti, she loves Jim so much, married him after just a

few months of dating.

All she wants is to make Jim happy. And Jim, well, he

wants...

me.

Luisa: Wait. What?

Sherry: God. Those two. They were made for each other. They

both love to torture me. See, this is why I'm starting to

believe in fate.

Everything just feels out of my control. Ugh, it's late. I

really gotta get going on this stupid poem. Coffee time.

[singing] This is what it sounds like... when doves cry.

Credits Narrator: Babalu was created, written, and produced

by me, Kimberly Truong. Directed by Katharine Chen Lerner. Sound

design, editing, and mixing by Charles Moody. With performances

by Christine Liao, Jaxy Boyd, Circus-Szalewski, Chriselle

Almeida, Kiera Nusbaum, Greg Smith, Varda Appleton, James

III, Malia Macabeo, a very good boy named Gus, and Kimberly

Truong. Theme music by Edith Mudge.

Additional music by Manish Ayachit, Bernard Yin, and

KipLMAO. Studio recording by Parker Silzer and David Stern.

Artwork by Gabi Hawkins. Logo by Alex Bruno. A very special thank

you to Liesl Lafferty and the Firecracker Department.

Mari Meyer, Peter Byrnes, Victoria LaVilla, Brandon

Beardsley, Hillary and the boys,

Katie McCuen, and our incredible Kickstarter backers.

Babalu is a production of Uneasy Tiger.

For more info or to support this series, follow @UneasyTiger on

Instagram or TikTok or visit uneasytiger.com.

If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal

thoughts, please dial 988 or visit 988lifeline.org