A mobster says loves me

Celine Ortiz narrates. Six years ago.

From inside the classroom, closer to the wall than the rest of my classmates, I was, momentarily distracted by the drops of water that slipped on the wide and transparent glass of the window that morning; It was raining, and I didn't like rainy days, much less when I was away from home, because the streets I had to walk to get home would get puddled and sometimes I had to let my shoes get wet, plus the dew from the occasional drizzle could soak my clothes and I hated walking around with moisture on me. I think I was always more of a lover of clear skies and sunny days.

I sighed.

"Ortiz," the teacher said my last name, making me return to the present in the corresponding turn. “Could you explain to me your answer to question number two of topic four of today's class? she asked, looking at me with a pair of aquiline eyes from the blackboard, holding the chalk and eraser in both hands.”

And as if he had addressed the rest of my classmates, they turned back to see me, all with their attention on me, waiting for me to come out of my quiet moment and say something, so I hesitated a bit and looked down at My open notebook had certainly distracted me for half a shift, because I hadn't even begun to copy topic four of that day's class. I swallowed, feeling a little embarrassed and then looked up, to see the teacher again, imagining that one day she would lose her patience with me and furiously throw the eraser at me, hitting it right on my forehead.

"I couldn't explain it, Professor," I said, taking what precautions I could not to turn red when my classmates started laughing at my lack of application in class.

She looked at me like someone looking at a vermin, like a stuffy, high-class lady; although possibly the salary that she received would not even be enough for a branded handbag and with great difficulty with said salary she could only buy the market of the month and pay her rent.

"Yes, I thought so," she murmured pointedly. “Try to keep your eyes on the board.”

I didn't say anything, nor did I pout, I just avoided looking at my classmates, who surely would have a small mocking smile painted on their faces, but they would forget about it, that's how things were in that school; Luckily I wasn't the one being harassed, she was just one more invisible who was often caught unawares, but from there no more. So I set out to start copying what the teacher went on to explain on the board.

I was never the first in the class, but I was never the last either, I never failed a subject or a course, but my grades were a little low, not much, although they were no better than regular; I doubted that he would ever get a place in a good university. I only fulfilled my duty to attend and pass, until now nothing motivated me, I didn't even know what I wanted for my future or what career to undertake; I spent my life watching the seconds go by and what had to happen something. I think that as a child I did have dreams and goals, but once I entered adolescence something inside me turned off, making me a boring, ordinary young woman, perhaps one more insipid of the bunch. But that brought me peace of mind, and if I was calm, then it was fine.

Then came the time for departure and the thought of returning home; that day it only played half a class shift; I wanted it to be all the corresponding hours; It was better to be in a room, invisible and living with my only two friends, than, in my place of residence, under the watchful eye and strict surveillance of my parents.

“What are you going to do this afternoon?” Daniela asked, taking the opportunity to bend the upper edge of the skirt a little and thereby shorten it more.

“Any. Or—I don't know, as much as possible I'll finish the tasks that are for tomorrow,” I said, keeping my eyes straight ahead along the corridor we were passing through, and my hands on the straps of my backpack.

"I already did them," Clara spoke to my other side in a friendly tone, holding a stack of books in her arms. “If you want I will lend you the material with which I helped myself.”

I smiled slightly and nodded.

"I'd like to, thank you."

"By the way, my mother said that on Saturday we will have a family lunch day, with friends too," Clara spoke to me again. “She told me that it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to invite you, she told me to ask if you wanted to join us.”

"And she didn't tell you anything about me?" Daniela asked from my other side, undoing the top buttons of her shirt, I imagine to show a little more cleavage. “Your mother seems to disown me.”

Neither of us answered that, but it was clear that, being a conservative and religious family, Clara’s parents did not have a very good idea of Daniela, who had a reputation for hanging out in inappropriate meetings with not very good boys. Reputation, plus the way they talk and dress could easily be grounds for some moral judgment. My parents sometimes also made some acid comments about it, but I just kept discreetly silent, for me the most important thing was the friendship that Daniela offered me, it was a bit slippery, perhaps, but that was her decision, not my decision. Mine and it would not have to affect me badly, I think that the values of sincerity, company and optimism were something to admire and that kept me in confidence with her.

“Your hair is very pretty today,” I said, to dissipate the tension a bit.

She immediately tried to look at the strands of her freshly dyed blonde hair.

“Yes, I cut it.” She combed it a little more with the fingers of one hand, it was limp and brushing her shoulders. “It’s easier to maintain like this.”

I nodded and turned to look at Clara’s and smiled at her too, she always carried it loose, hers was curly and quite dark, it reached her waist. While mine was a little brown, wavy and not too long and not too short, just below the shoulders. Anyway, I wasn’t a teenager who paid much attention to my hair style, there was something else for which I felt self-conscious and although I didn’t want to spend a lot of time thinking about it, I couldn’t help it when I got out of the shower and saw myself in the bathroom. Mirror.

We said goodbye and I got ready to go on foot to my home, which was an hour’s walk away, without stopping somewhere and speeding up my pace it would be maybe forty-five minutes, and I didn’t usually stay there to procrastinate in the street, since I would have plenty of time to do it at home.

That morning I did not answer Clara about her invitation, I would first have to check with my parents, however, I did take the book that she offered me so that I could get the answers from it for the next exam. On the other hand, I had to refuse once again to hang out with Daniela, the time she was proposing was almost at dusk, and if I didn’t want to be killed when I got home, I shouldn’t try to look foolishly at my friends. Parents.

Shower, lunch, snack, a broom at home and rest…

A call came to my phone shell and I saw that it was the phone number of Clara’s mother, surely it was to remind me of her invitation.

But not.

“Hello, Celine,” Clara’s voice.

“Hello, is everything okay?” I asked, having heard his slightly suspicious voice.

“For me yes, for you I don’t know.”

I raised half of my body from the bed, remaining seated with the mobile next to my ear.

“What happened?”

“Well—about the homework for tomorrow, remember?” I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Well, the teacher said that he will not attend tomorrow because he had a family emergency, that he will receive the papers and other pending assignments tonight at his house.”

“Other pending assignments?” I frowned a little, looking to the side and trying to remember. “But he only sent one, the one I was thinking of doing tonight to deliver tomorrow.”

“Well, no, dear. Apart from that he also delivered two other classes for us to study at home and we will deliver everything ready today. That was this morning, as soon as you left, he caught up with us at the exit, I hadn’t forgotten to let you know, it’s because my parents’ phone had no balance. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” I accepted her apology softly, but distracted, imagining the great task that lay ahead. “But—”

“I’ll send you the questions by message, you can keep the book today, there are all the answers.”

“And what about you?”

“There’s another copy of that one in my father’s library.” I sensed that she smiled, friendly, as he always did when he presented me with a solution.

“Oh God, no,” I murmured, placing a hand on my forehead. “I don’t know if he can finish all that today, he warned him very late, we also have other pending tasks with other teachers. And him house is on the other side of town. I practically have to cross it, it will take me three hours walking.”

I was already beginning to imagine it.

“Cheer up, yes you can.” I imagined that he balled her hand into a fist as a sign of strength. “Well, I left you. I’m going to do mine now.”

“Okay thanks.”

I ended the call and thought for maybe ten seconds where to start that. Then I jumped up and began to hastily take things out of my backpack and go to the living room of my house to get down to work at the dining room table, it was easier to work there. And especially when you were in a hurry.

“What’s the matter?” My mother asked as she cut an onion on the other side of the same table.

I explained to her then, while she didn’t even look at her because she was careful to put all things in order on my side of the table, ready to start as soon as possible.

Now, five hours have passed, with my eyes glued to sheets and sheets of paper that I wrote by hand, with questions, answers, covers, introduction, conclusion, bibliographies and even annexes. I felt exhausted, my joints already stiff and an immense desire to sleep.

I ordered everything, piling up my notebooks on one side, pencils and erasers on the other side and more apart the book, on one side of three folders with a different assignment each. I then walked to the refrigerator to go get a glass of water because in all that time I hadn’t even gotten up from my chair to go, even if I went to the bathroom for a moment.

“For god’s sake!” I exclaimed when I saw that it was already getting dark, the sun had already set from the day, there were only a few reflections left on the horizon.

“What has you so upset?” I was more surprised by my father speaking behind me.

I turned quickly and looked at him at the other end of the kitchen room, he had just arrived, surely he would have already closed the cellar, it was about time; but I hadn’t even noticed that it was getting late for me.

“It’s already night,” I said, more worried than I could show. “And I need to turn in my homework today. The professor has had an emergency for tomorrow and on top of that he asked us to get work done.” I looked towards the table, towards the folders. “I barely finished them all” I turned again towards the transparent glass window that was overlooking the street, next to the refrigerator. “And he lives on the other side of town,” I breathed out, bringing a hand to my forehead.

“Well,” I heard my father mutter. “In this area of the city there are no taxis at this time, so there is no other option than to resort to one of those errand men who circulate around on motorcycles. I have the phone number of the company that works with it. I will request the service of one.”

I did not hinder him, of course I would have preferred a car, because my family and I had always thought that motorcycles were less safe, but I had no other choice. I then ran to my bedroom to put on other clothes; wearing mismatched pants and a baggy shirt, with simple Converse on my feet.

I walked out of there fixing a high tail bow in my hair.

“He’s already down there, waiting for you,” my father said, leaning out the window that was next to the fridge.

“So fast?” It came out to me to say, while he took from the table the folders that he had to deliver.

“I requested expedited service,” he turned to look at me. “Now go and don’t spend too much time talking to someone, turn in and come back. You know I don’t like you walking around at night.”

“Yes, dad,” I nodded and walked towards the dining room exit, heading towards the stairs that would take me to the ground floor.

My footsteps echoed on the wood of each link, but I trotted, listening to my mother warn me to be careful going down.

I walked past the warehouse where we lived and where my father worked daily, a supply for the community that needed products for auto mechanics; I was in a hurry, in such a hurry that with one hand I quickly lowered the door handle, went out and closed it, holding the folders in the other arm and not realizing to myself who the motorist was.

Until I had to walk quickly towards him, noticing that he was waiting for me with a hoof extended towards me.

It was that time, it was during that sunset that I first looked at Joshua Park. The man who would kick the calm with which I was spending my adolescence, who would send my emotional stability to hell and who would enjoy drinking every tear that my eyes could shed because of him.

Highlighting that he possessed a demonic privilege, a devastating attraction that could take the breath away of any young lady, and I was no exception, while right there he looked at me, serious and indifferent, waiting for me to receive the helmet he was offering me.