You..know,
I've always accepted the fact that you're a natural at being an asshole. But today is a whole other level of low." Bordon sighs, holds his head in his hand. "Yeah, definitely what I wanted to hear from you." His voice wavers ever so slightly; putting me a bit off edge.
"You know what? I'm done being the kind soul I am. I'm going to have to unleash my merciless side."
"Escuse me?"
I give him a loose hug,
"Kindly get the hell off me."
"You can't be telling me you're upset about a piece of paper. You're not that kind of person."
"I am not upset," he counters. "I'm just acutely frustrated."
"That's the exact same thing."
"I just.... I really needed the classification."
"Why?" He pauses, deciding on whether it's even worth it to tell me. "Juan, I owe a lot of money to a lot of people and I don't think I'll ever be able to pay it off. The classification seemed like the best bet -It's common knowledge that classified professions make buck loads of cash."
I rub the back of my neck, processing the foreign knowledge, "and who exactly are you owing?" He inhales,
"The Exile..."
I'm almost not surprised. Lately there's been talk of the rising rebel numbers, they are trying to bribe citizens to join them with money. Bordon is just another piece in their scheme.
"Why would you borrow money from The Exile?"
He extends his arm into the distance, "because out there...." he clenches his fist. "It's different from here, it's different from what the SOCIETY could ever offer us."
"Whatever I can do to make things better, I'll help."
"Pardon?"
Bordons eyes grow wide, they are mirroring regret, shame, and something along the lines of hope. "So we're all good here?" Martin glances at the both of us, I almost forgot he was here. "Yeah I guess so."
The rest of the day was a blur, I couldn't stop thinking about Bordon or the Rebels. What could I do to help him? Was giving up my spot in the classification even an option. I personally wouldn't mind but I do know who would. I think I need to speak to my dad.
Upon entering the house the first thing that catches my attention is the strong lavender fragrance in the air. "You've got to be kidding me." I mutter under my breath. I kick my boots onto the welcome Matt before roaming around the house. "Juan, how was school?" Aunt Estella pulls me into a tight hug. She's a bit on the bigger side. It feels as if my ribs are being run into by a truck. Repeatedly. She pecks each side of my face. "You're so grown now! You used to hate drinking milk when you were young, now look at you, you're taller than your dad."
"That was Matías."
"I'll get the Calamari from the car!"
I stumble into the living, feeling a bit skeptical. It's validated once I see all the sets of sheos propped up on the shoe rack.
They're here. They're all here. My cousin Violet is painting her nails on the sofa. Abuela and Abuelo are setting the dinner table while flirting -and Matías and Diego! When did they get here!? Second cousins, great grand-parents, family friends and even the next door neighbour's. Practically everyone I know is here. "Everybody sit down," pápa calls from the grill. "Our celebratory boy has coke back." He grins, placing the tray of grilled corn at the center of the table. "Mijo, can you get me the champagne bottles?"
"What is going on?"
"We're celebrating you classification." He looks at me as if stating the obvious. "The bottles are in my bedroom drawer, be quick we're about to pray."
This is most definitely not how I planned to spend my evening. "You look different." Violet blows on her nails, eyes me up and down. "Please move out of the way. You're blocking the staircase." I gently push past her to continue down my path.
"Cmon don't be shy. Tell me, how much money has the SOCIETY paid you?" I stop walking and turn to face her. "What do you mean?"
She shakes her head, trying to hold back her laughter. "You don't know about the money? You get an upfront payment with the envelope." She snickers, "I guess you dad was hiding that from you." She skips away before I counteract her assumption. Why would Pápa not tell me about this...?
"The champagne," I place the heavy bottles onto the wooden table with a bit of a thud, before taking a seat beside Abuela. All throughout prayer I couldn't help but stare daggers at my father. Why would he keep something like that from me? He's not proud of me, is he? He's only happy about the new source of income. I should've known better. I feel sick, I can't eat my dinner. I need to speak with him. Now. "Juan, what do you say about talking with Fernandez's girl? She seems sweet, a great choice if you'd like to settle down later." Uncle Ben dabs at his lips with his napkin. "No! Weren't her grandparents a part of that rebel scheme!?"
The dinner table has turned into an uproar.
"Papá, let's talk. In private."
"Whlĺ's the matter? It's cold out here."
"Please answer me honestly." He looks startled by my tone, maybe even a bit offended. "What is it?"
"Did you hide a cash payment from me?"
His face visibly turns pale, shocked by my accusation. "Why are you asking?"
"Violeta told me that I received cash with the envelope. Were you planning to keep it a secret?"
"I'm your father, what does it matter if I keep it?"
"It matters because you lied to me. You made me feel more special than I have in a while under false accounts." I catch my breath, "the worst part is... I think I kinda knew."
He slaps me across the cheek, the raw uncensored reality sinks in like poison. "Boy are you insane! You know I've always done my best in raising you and your brothers fairly. It's always been difficult, especially since your mother isn't around."
I almost want to laugh. 'Fair?' Nothing about my life has been fair. Since the moment I was born.