PART 2
I didn’t let her talk at reception anymore. I asked her to walk to a corner, more for my colleagues than for her. I didn’t want my work to become the theater where Regina cried until someone gave her a round of applause. She sat in front of me, asked for enchiladas, Jamaican water and flan, as if I had invited her to celebrate something.
“I don’t come to live with you,” he said, settling down his hair. I’m here to hand over the apartment. You can rent something smaller. You have no children.
“What a considerate.
Don’t be sarcastic. I lost everything.
No, Regina. You spent it.
Her eyes got bright, but I know her. Their tears have always had office hours: they come out when they serve.
He pulled out a folder with receipts, debts and an old copy of my parents’ will. I also brought a sheet written by her, with my name badly on, where she said that I agreed to “give her back” a home for being a family. I hadn’t even tried to make it look legal. It looked like high school homework with expensive perfume.
“Look. They left me the house because they knew I needed stability.
“And you sold it.
Because you didn’t help me repair it.
There I understood that in his head the guilt could travel miles until parking in front of my door. I took a deep breath. I told him I wouldn’t give him my apartment, no money, not one night in my living room. I also told him that if I went back to my job, I would call security.
“Click here to read the full story”.
