Chapter 2
When you think your day can’t get any worse, trust me: You’re usually wrong. On the way to the bookstore, my phone rang. My mother had called me nonstop the day before, and I knew that if I didn’t pick up this time, she was going to start calling my friends.
“Hi, Mom.”
She let out an impatient sigh and asked, “Why did you lie to me, Dante?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Are you silent because you’re thinking up another lie?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I spoke to the property management company. You’re behind on the rent.”
Shit, I thought. Shit, shit, shit.
“Mom, I can handle it myself.”
“I knew that going to Rio wasn’t going to work out. You belong in Pingo, son. Now you’re so far away, in a bind, and you won’t even ask for my help! I have the money, I can pay!”
“I’m twenty-four years old, Mom. I’ve lived on my own for five years now, and I know how to take care of myself. I’ll pay off the debt on my own.”
That seemed to deeply offend her.
“And how exactly do you intend to pay?”
“I’m going to take out a loan from the bank.”
“What bank is going to lend that amount of money to a bookseller?”
Here she was again, finding a way to twist the knife. I gripped my phone in anger.
“Thanks for that.”
“I’m serious, Dante. Would you really rather pay interest to the bank than accept my help?”
“Your interest rate is higher.”
Hilda fell silent and I could hear her hyperventilating into the phone receiver. I imagined her tapping her manicured nails on the table as she spoke. My biggest fear was that she’d decide to come to Rio to fix our problem. I wouldn’t be able to stop her.
“Miguel called Mirtes again,” she began. “He didn’t say anything this time. He just kept crying on the phone.”
“And?”
“Mirtes doubled down, she wanted to know what was bothering him, but he wouldn’t say…” My mother paused and I could feel that she was about to drop a bomb. “I need to ask you a question, son. You’re not doing anything stupid to get this money, right?”
“What are you suggesting? That we’re dealing drugs or robbing banks?”
“Sorry … I must be overreacting.”
I’d come up from behind in this argument and now I had to cross the finish line.
I insisted that everything was under control.
She told me she loved me, I said I loved her too, and that I was running late.
We hung up with a quick goodbye. I needed to talk to Miguel before he did something stupid.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and entered the bookstore.
Greeting me on the STAFF PICKS table: Crime and Punishment by Dostoevsky.