The Cartel Lawyer by Dave Daren (ebook reader below 3000 TXT) 📕

She gestured to the foil casserole dishes on the counter as she shuffled over to the sink with the dirty mop water.

“Mama, let me take care of that,” I said when she bent to lift the heavy bucket.

“You stay off my floors,” she snapped before I could even set foot into the kitchen.

I ground my teeth as my need to help her fought with the knowledge that she could throw her chancla with surprising accuracy, even when she was dead tired from three jobs.

“The floors are dry enough,” I told her when she struggled to get the bucket higher than her knees. “I’m going to come help. Why don’t you sit. I’ll make you a plate. You should be resting.”

“Fine,” she muttered after another failed attempt to empty the bucket.

The bags under her eyes were darker, and her green eyes were dull from exhaustion. Her hand was skeletal as she reached up and patted me on the cheek before she shuffled over to the battered kitchen table.

“You’re a good boy,” she said after she had eased into her favorite chair.

“You taught me well,” I responded, and had to swallow around the lump that formed in my throat.

I distracted myself with the mop water and then with the dinner that her best friend, Laura, had cooked for us. The ropa vieja smelled delicious as I uncovered the shredded flank dish with its tomato sauce, onions, and bell peppers.

“I don’t want much,” my mother told me as I scooped out some of the rice, meat, and vegetables.

“Okay,” I said while I halved the amount I had given her. “Did you want some of the plantains?”

“Just one,” she said with a weak smile.

“Here you go,” I said as I set the small plate of food in front of her with a fork and a glass of water.

“Thank you, mi hijo,” she mumbled.

She had rested her head on her hand and had begun to doze off, but she shook herself awake when I sat with my own dinner.

“Eat,” I said as I scooped up a small bite with her fork and offered it to her.

“I will,” the Cuban mama replied while she took the utensil from me and then sat it back down on her plate.

“What did the doctor say?” I asked when it was clear she was not going to eat.

“Eat,” she answered as she waved her hands at me. “We can talk later.”

I took a giant bite to satisfy her, but I’d overdone it. I had a tough time trying to actually chew the food, and she lifted her eyebrows and grinned as she watched me struggle to eat. But it was worth it just to see her happy for a moment as she chuckled to herself and shook her head.

“Satisfied?” I questioned when I had finally managed to swallow it all down.

“Thrilled,” she teased.

“So?” I pressed when she lapsed into thoughtful silence. “What did the tests say?”

“I have stage 3 lung cancer,” she said. “He said if I don’t treat it aggressively that it has a good chance of turning to stage 4.”

The air in the room disappeared as I processed what she’d said. She was so far along. It was a testimony to her strength that she’d managed to keep it hidden for so long, but I hated that she’d suffered in silence for, well, months? Years?

“But he thinks he can treat it?” I asked when my voice would work again.

“He said I might respond well,” she answered, though she wouldn’t look me in the eyes. “But, mi hijo, it’s so expensive.”

“It’s worth it,” I assured her.

“I’ve lived a good life, Roberto,” my mother said as she reached a bony hand over to pat my arm.

“And you have more to live,” I huffed.

“We can look into the holistic treatments,” she said with a shrug.

“You will do whatever the doctor tells you to do,” I told her as I pushed my plate away from me. “I’m going to pay for all of your treatments.”

I took off my glasses and cleaned them as my mother rolled her eyes and crossed her frail arms over her chest.

“You will ruin your finances,” she grumbled. “You will not endanger your future to take care of a sick old woman.”

She stood and snatched up our discarded plates. Her lips were pursed together, and her jaw gritted as she tried to hold back the tears that pooled in her eyes. She looked away, but not before I’d seen the flash of pain as she moved.

“I won’t have to,” I told her as I followed her over to the sink.

I wrapped my arms around her and put my chin on the top of the head while I tried not to think of how small she had become in the last few weeks.

“You don’t make enough money,” she muttered.

She distracted herself with rinsing off the plates, though she didn’t step out of my embrace as she worked.

“I got a new job,” I said and then kissed the top of her head before I let her go.

“Where?” she asked as she spun around.

Her eyes narrowed, and she stared at me with her hands on her hips. She’d always been very good at sniffing out my lies and evasions, and I was about to tell the biggest one of my life

“It’s a prestigious law firm,” I declared. “They’ve made me a great offer. I applied months ago, and I finally heard back from them.”

I couldn’t tell her the truth, I told myself as my stomach turned, because she’d never approve of the Fuentes Shipping Company, or it’s potential ties to the Cuban cartel. The tenuous connections would be enough to make her worry, and she needed to be focused