The letter

Life has been cruel to me so many times that I don’t expect anything good to happen to me anymore. I was raised in poverty and hardship, that’s all I ever knew. My father wasn’t a violent man, but he was rarely at home and refused to provide for us. Mom had to bear all the burden of our family on her shoulders. She was the sole breadwinner, working as a maid and using her salary to pay our school fees and feed us. Father would also steal from her sometimes to get his daily dose of alcohol. As if we were not struggling enough. He didn’t only refuse to contribute in our family’s finances. He also took from us. And the thing is, I sure didn’t have it easy but my mom had it worse. She never had a single moment of rest in her life. God bless her soul... She never even let us see her in pain. The only time I saw her break down and cry was when my younger brother died from a leg infection. He was only seven and I was ten. Mom didn’t have enough money to take him to the hospital and we had to use a cheap nurse for little Antonio’s care... He was hurting all the time and naturally, it became more than he could bear. Mom blamed herself for his death even though it had never been her fault. I think that’s when she started to let herself die as well. Maybe she desired joining little Antonio in heaven more than she wanted to stay alive for me. She wasn’t taking care of her health anymore, even though she barely did before either. She also smoked a lot, maybe an entire pack per day. Sometimes two. It wasn’t a surprise to any of us when the doctors told her she had a lung cancer and it was at a pretty advance stage. Of course, mom couldn’t afford the treatment so she suffered for years while the cancer ate her lungs away. I watched her rot without being able to do anything. Then, she died and I was happy...Happy because she finally could rest. Her funeral was held yesterday. Not many people showed up and that’s because we don’t have much family left or friends who’d care enough. That’s what happens when you live in one of Colombia’s poorest neighborhood; you can’t trust anyone enough to make relationship. The only guests were my father, the priest, the old man who was digging the grave, and me. Kneeling by my bedside, eyes closed and hands joined, I pray for my mother’s soul. I hope that she’s with sweet Jesus right now and the angels. I hope she’s with Antonio. I ignore the tears that are covering my cheeks and whisper: “Mommy, please...Look after me from up there. Make it easy for me to go on without you. I’m really scared.” I sob quietly as I think of what my life will become as a twenty years old girl, without a proper family. I don’t even have a job. How am I supposed to survive? As if on cue, my stomach starts rumbling, reminding me that I haven’t eaten yet. It’s the evening and the sun is already starting to set. I won’t be able to go out and get food, unless I want to be raped and murdered. The best thing is to get to the kitchen and see if I can cook something. I will go for grocery shopping tomorrow with the little money I found in mama’s closet. There is not much of an inheritance to receive. Mom didn’t have anything. This run down apartment wasn’t to her name and I guess I will have to figure out how to pay next month’s rent. I tiptoe my way to the kitchen and open the fridge. It’s empty except for water and a loaf of bread. Luckily, I find some instant noodle in the cupboard and my stomach dances with joy at the thought of eating that. Suddenly, there is a hand over my shoulder. I let out a scream and turn around, only to be met with my father’s blank gaze. Slowly, he raises one finger to his lips, asking me to remain quiet. His hand is heavy on my shoulder and he reeks of alcohol. “Papa...” “Feed me, Catalina...Your father’s hungry.” “Oh...Yes.” His hand travels all the way down to my hip before he sniffs heavily and leaves to sit in the living room. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and my eyes start to water. Papa is acting a little strange, lately. Since mama’s death, he became touchier. I always find his hand on me. I would like to believe that he’s just sad and in need of affection but I don’t know... There is a nasty feeling sitting at the pit of my stomach. I make him noodles with the only pack that was left. I guess I will have to starve tonight. I give him the bowl in the living room and sees that he has an open can of beer in his hand already. Isn’t he drunk enough? “Thank you, my sweet girl. Do you want to sit and watch a telenovela with me?” “Oh, no Papa. I’m tired, I’ll just go to b...” “Sit.” He says it with so much force that I understand he won’t take no for an answer. I sit next to him on the sofa and papa turns on the TV to a random movie. I don’t feel comfortable. I can feel him looking at me and he smells really bad. I don’t think he showered since mom’s death. I hear him slurp his noodles and laugh at the TV like a maniac. To keep my stomach from rumbling, I cross my arms over it. I don’t say anything, even when papa starts to massage my back, getting lower and lower by the second. I freeze and my soul leaves my body. I want to punch him in the face. “Why are you so tense, sweet girl? Are you sad that mama is gone? Don’t worry...I will take care of you.” His hand is now on my lower back and dad’s face get closer to mind. I’m horrified to realize that he’s about to kiss me so I stand up quickly and move far away from him. My entire body is shivering in disgust. “What are you doing, papa?” I ask in a low tone. “Nothing. What’s wrong, girl?” “D-don’t ever touch me like that again...I-I’m going to bed.” He stands up but he’s too drunk and wobbly to chase properly after me. I run and Barricade myself in my bedroom. He comes up a few minutes later and knocks. Papa insults me and says he wishes I would die too. I sob while listening to all of that and it seems to be going on for hours. Eventually, the silence comes back. I reach out for the nightstand to turn off the light but instead my hand grabs a letter. I took it from the mailbox this morning but forgot to read it. It’s from mama’s boss. She worked for him as a maid for six years and always told me he was the worst, he and his children. The letter is addressed to me, so I assume that it must be his condolences. I click my tongue in distaste because I don’t care for the fake concern of this man who tortured mama all these years. Despite all my resentment, I still tear it open and start reading: "Dear Miss Catalina Nunez, I heard of your mother’s unfortunate passing and before anything, I wish to present to you my sincere condolences. Now that this is out of the way, I will go straight to the point and inform you that during her time of work in my home, your mother broke a twenty thousand dollars vase that I received as a gift from a foreign business partner. As payment, she was supposed to work for me for ten years, without wages. She already completed three of those years but with her death, you understand that I find myself in an uncomfortable position. I feel cheated on and I do not like it. That is why I’m requiring that you continue with the payment of your mother’s debt. Please come to meet me at my mansion tomorrow at twelve and we will discuss the arrangement. Fail to do so and I won’t hesitate to sue your family and ask for the reimbursement in cash of my vase or for your imprisonment. Once again, I present to you my sincere condolences and I hope to see you tomorrow. Sincerely, Carlos Whitlock." I read the letter twice and it still leaves me with the same amount of shock and disbelief. I see that mama wasn’t exaggerating when she called this man a monster. He made her a slave just because she broke a vase? Why has mama never told me this? And if she worked three years without wages, how did we manage to survive all this time? The thoughts in my mind are giving me a headache. I also know that I have no choice but to go to that meeting tomorrow with Mr. Whitlock. I hope I can find an arrangement with him because I’m not about to work for seven years as a maid without getting paid. But the way I see it now, maybe it will be a bit hard to get myself out of this situation...What should I do, mama?