Old Money

"I don't make much from my job, and my health insurance isn't great, but I do have money."

You show Irina your bank statement. Luciana bends over to see.

"Dios Mio".

"I'll be honest, you never came off like a rich boy." Irina says.

"He's looking cuter every second" Luciana says, pinching your cheek with her soft fingers.

"I don't want to talk about it" you say. You have a flashback of your own.

You were playing with your toy car. It was a Rolls Royce Silver Seraph. The same kind your father drove, the few times he visited.

"What the fuck are you talking about? You promised me. You call yourself a man? Gillipollas!"

Your Mom was screaming and shouting at him. You heard the muffled sounds of hitting as your Mom screamed at him.

"Alright, alright, cool down, I'm sorry." he said, sounding more frantic. You heard a much louder slap, and your Mother screamed. You pushed the car along the floor. It was on an alien planet, somewhere far away. The only people here were you, the driver, and the car. Driving past these odd landscapes.

"Shut the fuck up. This is it. I'm done with you. You come to me for money again, and I'll have you deported you stupid bitch. I don't care about you or your retarded kid."

You flipped the car over, hoping that it's little driver would just die.

"And what would your father do? You're already a disgrace to him. He would throw you down the same streets."

You thought of Grandpa Wilfred. He dressed and talked like Scrooge McDuck. Once, he took you on his boat, teaching you how to fish, talking about the different kinds. That was how their family had made their wealth, by making so many others fish for them.

"Fine" he said.

There was a pause. You moved the car quietly, scared as if they might hear you in the other room.

"And if you touch me again, I'll cut your eggs off." She said. After he left, you remember hugging your Mom. Your father was so ugly. Thin blonde hair combed over his bald spot, pale skin, with beady eyes and a lack of chin. She was so beautiful, with tanned skin and dark black curls that hung around her shoulders. Stubborn, powerful locks that you could hide in when you hugged her.

"Perdón, mi niño"

Your father had given you and your mother money, and thankfully had never talked to either of you again. It didn't matter to you if he was alive or in a ditch.

"You should have enough money to hire private help. But remember, prostitutes do not have medical training." Irina says

"Usually" Luciana says.

"Usually" Irina says.

"Then that's what I'll do." You say.

Your apartment is too small for yourself, let alone live-in help. Then you remember about your Mother's mansion. This condition is embarrassing, but it seems like the best option.