The faint light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the wooden shutters, painting soft streaks of gold across the walls of the small house. The air was still and cool, the world outside just beginning to stir to life. Despite being the last to go to bed, Lolita was the first to wake. Sleep had barely touched her, and yet she sat up with purpose. Her body ached, her muscles stiff from days of work and worry, but Lolita didn't have time to indulge in fatigue.
She pulled herself up from the bed, careful not to wake Matteo, who was curled up next to her, his small hand clutching the corner of his thin blanket. She leaned down and kissed his forehead lightly, brushing a strand of his dark hair from his face. He didn't stir.
Lolita stood, her bare feet hitting the cold floor, and stretched her arms above her head. Today was important. She had made a decision in the quiet darkness of the night, and now she had to see it through.
The kitchen was dim, but Lolita knew it like the back of her hand. She lit the small kerosene stove, the faint blue flame flickering to life, and grabbed a dented saucepan from the counter. Her movements were quiet, deliberate. She pulled out the condensed milk from the cabinet, its tin slightly rusted, and set it next to the small pile of oranges she had saved from yesterday's sales.
It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
She began peeling the oranges, her hands moving quickly and efficiently. The sweet, tangy smell filled the kitchen as she worked, slicing the fruit into neat pieces and mixing it with the condensed milk. The milk was almost expired, but it hadn't gone bad yet—she had checked. Waste wasn't something they could afford.
As she whisked the mixture together, her thoughts wandered. Clara. Her sister's face, young but already marked with the weight of their struggles, floated in her mind. Clara deserved better than this. Better than this house, this life, this endless cycle of scraping and surviving.
Lolita had made her decision. Clara would go back to school today.
By the time the orange tart mixture was done, Lolita had already set the small, uneven table with their mismatched plates. The food wasn't much, but it looked good enough. She was just wiping her hands on her skirt when Clara shuffled into the kitchen, her hair a wild, tangled nest atop her head.
Clara blinked at the sight of the table, her face a mixture of confusion and surprise. "You're cooking?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
Lolita smirked, leaning against the counter. "Don't sound so shocked. I can cook when I want to."
Clara rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Yeah, but you never want to. What's going on?"
Lolita ignored the question, her sharp brown eyes flicking toward the small bathroom in the corner of the house. "Go pack your things," she said briskly. "You're leaving today."
Clara froze, her hand still mid-yawn. "What?"
"You heard me," Lolita said, her tone firm. "The bus to the city will be leaving soon. You need to get ready."
Clara blinked, her confusion deepening. "Wait—what are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere."
Lolita crossed her arms, her expression unyielding. "Yes, you are. You're going back to school."
Clara let out a short, incredulous laugh. "With what money? They kicked me out, remember? We don't have the fees."
"Don't worry about that," Lolita said, her voice clipped. "Just go pack your things."
Clara stared at her sister, her brows furrowing. "What did you do, Lolita?"
"Nothing you need to worry about," Lolita replied, brushing past her toward Matteo's room. "Go take your bath. Now."
"But—"
"Clara," Lolita said sharply, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Go."
Clara hesitated, her confusion clear in the way her eyes darted between Lolita and the table. But she didn't argue further. With a sigh, she turned and headed toward the bathroom, muttering under her breath about how stubborn her sister was.
Lolita shook her head and turned her attention to Matteo. The boy was still fast asleep, his small body curled up like a kitten. She leaned down and shook him gently. "Wake up, pequeño," she murmured.
Matteo stirred, his dark eyes blinking open. "Is it morning already?" he asked, his voice groggy.
"Yes," Lolita said with a small smile. "Come on, we have to get you ready for school."
She led him to the small basin in the corner of the kitchen, where a bucket of water waited. There was no soap—there hadn't been any for weeks now—but Lolita grabbed the container of salt they used for everything and sprinkled some into the water.
"Salt again?" Matteo asked, wrinkling his nose.
"Salt is magic," Lolita said with a wink, dipping a cloth into the water. "It cleans everything."
Matteo giggled as Lolita began scrubbing his arms and face with the salty water. "It tastes gross, though."
"Good thing you're not eating it, then," Lolita replied, her tone teasing.
They chatted as she worked, Matteo's laughter filling the small kitchen as she tickled him lightly while washing his feet. When it was time to brush his teeth, she handed him a pinch of salt and said, "Here. Use this."
Matteo groaned but obeyed, scrubbing the coarse grains along his teeth with his finger. "I hate this," he mumbled, his voice muffled.
"I hate it too," Lolita said with a smirk, ruffling his hair. "But we're tough, right? Salt can't beat us."
When they were done, Lolita helped him into his worn school uniform, which was a bit too short at the sleeves and frayed at the edges. She kissed the top of his head and sent him to the table, where he eagerly began eating the orange tart.
By the time Lolita joined him, Clara had emerged from the bathroom, dressed and ready. Her hair was damp but neatly combed, and her face was still marked with confusion.
"Alright," Clara said, sitting down across from Lolita. "Now will you tell me what's going on?"
Lolita handed her a plate of the tart and a small envelope of money. "Eat," she said simply.
Clara stared at the envelope, then at her sister. "What is this?"
"Your school fees," Lolita replied, digging into her own plate.
Clara's eyes widened. "What? How—"
"Don't ask questions," Lolita said, cutting her off. "Just take it and go."
Clara slammed the envelope onto the table, her voice rising. "No! I'm not going anywhere until you tell me where this money came from!"
Lolita's jaw tightened, her eyes flashing. "I said don't ask questions."
Clara's hands shook as she stared at her sister. "What did you do, Lolita?"
"Nothing you wouldn't have done," Lolita said quietly, her voice hard.
The weight of her words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. Clara looked like she wanted to argue, but something in Lolita's expression stopped her.
"You deserve better than this," Lolita said finally, her voice softer now. "You deserve a future, Clara. Don't waste it."
Clara's eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away, nodding silently.
They finished their meal in silence, the unspoken tension lingering between them. When it was time to leave, Lolita hugged her sister tightly, her usual sharpness softening for just a moment.
"Go," she whispered. "And take care of yourself okay?."
Clara nodded, " you too " while clutching the envelope to her chest so dearly,
as she walked out the door, she spotted the town bus which was leaving for the city where she schooled, Lolita watched her go with her heart heavy but resolute.
She had made her choice. And she would live with it, even if it meant sacrificing her self just to protect them she will..