concerned about being caught. He’d worked himself up into actually wanting to kill his own father: the bastard deserved to be sent straight to hell.
He approached the old man's suite, his hands trembling.
Once inside the bedroom, Pedro could see his father sleeping alone in his large bed, covered with the best silk sheets money could buy. Pedro let out a sigh, relieved to see that his father did not have a guest for the evening.
His father's heart medicine was on the nightstand, next to the bed. Pedro took the small receptacle of pills and emptied half of them out. Once that was done, he replaced them with amphetamine capsules that looked like the medicine for his father’s heart.
Pedro knew that henceforth, each morning after his father had taken his heart medication, he had only a fifty-fifty chance of surviving into the next week. And no one would be any the wiser. They'd assume that the son of a bitch had had a heart attack. It was beautiful and it was foolproof.
Pedro stealthily exited his father’s room and left the hacienda as quietly as he'd entered it. Sweat trickled from his forehead while he walked away from the compound. It was over. His life here, with a family that had never taken the time to know him, with a father who despised his very presence, was over. Relief engulfed him. Pain, sadness, happiness, and anger swirled together in a vicious brew as he headed toward a new life and a new family.
Book II – 1976-1983
Los Angeles, CA
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Marta worked diligently at her sewing machine in a small warehouse, surrounded by more than a hundred workers bent over their tables. Dust particles and lint choked the air, making her sinuses run constantly. She stopped for a moment and wiped away the sweat dripping from her forehead. The summer heat hung heavy throughout the warehouse, her clothes sticking to her, and the smell of people working fast and furious in the poor conditions grew sourer by the hour. But the job paid the bills.
The highlight of the day was arriving home to see Alejandro. He made life worth living. His cheery attitude and bright smile could wipe away the hardships of the worst days. It had been a long five years since the day she and Elisa had crossed the border. Unfortunately, not much had changed.
Marta and Alex were still living in the same small house where he was born on Washington Street, in a constant struggle to achieve a meager existence. America hadn't been the land of opportunity she once thought, but she knew that because her son was born an American citizen, he would have chances in life that he never would have had living in Mexico. Every once in a while, Marta’s memories of Antonio would weave in and out of her mind, taking her back to a time when she felt full of life, her heart young and naïve. She could not help but still wonder on occasion how Antonio was doing, never forgetting the love they once shared. But her pleasant memories soon turned dark as she recalled the bitter discovery of who Antonio really was—a liar and cheat. There was no way around that. Denying it would be lying to herself. Facing realities was what helped to keep her working and motivated in a country she had not fallen in love with as she’d hoped. She missed her home, her culture, her life in Costa Careyes. She was grateful though that she had a job and a child who adored her, as well as her friendship with Elisa.
When she arrived home by bus, she checked the mail. Like clockwork every month, there was a check for five hundred dollars. The name on the check was from a company in Colombia called “ Por el gente ,” which meant, For the People. She knew that Antonio must be the one sending the checks. Marta was certain that he had somehow found out about Alex, because the money began arriving shortly after her son’s first birthday.
Her initial instinct was to tear them up, but after thinking it over, Marta realized
He approached the old man's suite, his hands trembling.
Once inside the bedroom, Pedro could see his father sleeping alone in his large bed, covered with the best silk sheets money could buy. Pedro let out a sigh, relieved to see that his father did not have a guest for the evening.
His father's heart medicine was on the nightstand, next to the bed. Pedro took the small receptacle of pills and emptied half of them out. Once that was done, he replaced them with amphetamine capsules that looked like the medicine for his father’s heart.
Pedro knew that henceforth, each morning after his father had taken his heart medication, he had only a fifty-fifty chance of surviving into the next week. And no one would be any the wiser. They'd assume that the son of a bitch had had a heart attack. It was beautiful and it was foolproof.
Pedro stealthily exited his father’s room and left the hacienda as quietly as he'd entered it. Sweat trickled from his forehead while he walked away from the compound. It was over. His life here, with a family that had never taken the time to know him, with a father who despised his very presence, was over. Relief engulfed him. Pain, sadness, happiness, and anger swirled together in a vicious brew as he headed toward a new life and a new family.
Book II – 1976-1983
Los Angeles, CA
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Marta worked diligently at her sewing machine in a small warehouse, surrounded by more than a hundred workers bent over their tables. Dust particles and lint choked the air, making her sinuses run constantly. She stopped for a moment and wiped away the sweat dripping from her forehead. The summer heat hung heavy throughout the warehouse, her clothes sticking to her, and the smell of people working fast and furious in the poor conditions grew sourer by the hour. But the job paid the bills.
The highlight of the day was arriving home to see Alejandro. He made life worth living. His cheery attitude and bright smile could wipe away the hardships of the worst days. It had been a long five years since the day she and Elisa had crossed the border. Unfortunately, not much had changed.
Marta and Alex were still living in the same small house where he was born on Washington Street, in a constant struggle to achieve a meager existence. America hadn't been the land of opportunity she once thought, but she knew that because her son was born an American citizen, he would have chances in life that he never would have had living in Mexico. Every once in a while, Marta’s memories of Antonio would weave in and out of her mind, taking her back to a time when she felt full of life, her heart young and naïve. She could not help but still wonder on occasion how Antonio was doing, never forgetting the love they once shared. But her pleasant memories soon turned dark as she recalled the bitter discovery of who Antonio really was—a liar and cheat. There was no way around that. Denying it would be lying to herself. Facing realities was what helped to keep her working and motivated in a country she had not fallen in love with as she’d hoped. She missed her home, her culture, her life in Costa Careyes. She was grateful though that she had a job and a child who adored her, as well as her friendship with Elisa.
When she arrived home by bus, she checked the mail. Like clockwork every month, there was a check for five hundred dollars. The name on the check was from a company in Colombia called “ Por el gente ,” which meant, For the People. She knew that Antonio must be the one sending the checks. Marta was certain that he had somehow found out about Alex, because the money began arriving shortly after her son’s first birthday.
Her initial instinct was to tear them up, but after thinking it over, Marta realized
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