I stepped into the house quietly, locking the door behind me. It was past 2 AM, and the only sound in the house was the faint hum of the refrigerator. I exhaled, I was about to head straight to my room when I heard her voice.
"Luis?"
I turned. My mom was sitting up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The dim glow from the kitchen light cast shadows on her face, making her look even more tired than usual.
"Ma, why are you still awake?" I asked, forcing a smile. "You should be resting."
She sighed. "I can't sleep knowing you're out there working so hard. You have construction all day, and then the bar at night… It's too much.
The "bar." That's what she thought I did after work. Mixing drinks, wiping down counters, dealing with drunk customers. If only that were true.
I sat down across from her, rubbing my hands together. "It's not as bad as you think, Ma. They give us breaks, you know? And the tips? Some nights, they're real good. It helps us keep up with the bills, right?"
She shook her head. "Money is one thing, but your health, Luis… I worry about you. You leave before Emilio wakes up, and by the time you get back, he's already asleep."
I swallowed hard. My little brother, Emilio, he had no idea what I really did either. He was still a kid, focused on school, and I wanted to keep it that way.
"I know, Ma. But it won't be like this forever."
She studied me for a moment, her tired eyes searching for something in mine. Maybe she saw how exhausted I was. Maybe she knew I wasn't telling her the full truth. But she didn't press. Instead, she gave me a small smile.
"Emilio's doing better in school," she said. "And… I think I'm feeling a little stronger these days."
That made me sit up. "Really?"
She nodded. "Not by much, but I can feel it. Maybe it's just knowing that you're taking care of everything; That helps too."
I reached over, giving her hand a small squeeze. "That's good to hear, Ma. You just focus on getting better, okay? I got everything else covered."
She smiled, patting my hand. "I know you do, mijo. But don't forget, you need to rest too."
I nodded, even though I knew I wouldn't be getting much rest anytime soon.
After a few more minutes, I helped her back to her room, then went to mine.
Emilio was fast asleep in the next room, completely unaware of the world I was getting wrapped up in.
I shut my bedroom door and locked it. My body was heavy with exhaustion, but my mind was wired.
I pulled the wad of cash from my pocket, five thousand dollars. More money than I'd ever made in a month doing legit work.
I crouched by my bed, lifted the loose floorboard near the corner, and slid the cash inside, tucking it beneath an old T-shirt.
It wasn't much of a hiding spot, but it would do for now.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I ran a hand over my face.
"This is crazy…" I muttered under my breath.
I knew what I was getting into was dangerous. The kind of thing that could get me locked up or worse. But at the same time… I am starting to like it. The fast money. The thrill of making a deal, of walking into a club with nothing and leaving with my pockets full. It was risky, yeah, but it was working.
I lay back, staring at the ceiling.
"Just for now," I told myself. "Just until things get better."
But deep down, I wasn't sure if I believed that anymore.
The next day, I woke up before the sun, my body aching from yesterday's work. I dragged myself out of bed, moving quietly so I wouldn't wake my mom or Emilio.
First, I got breakfast started, scrambled eggs, toast, and some tea for my mom. Simple, but warm.
She always said a good breakfast made a difference.
After that, I swept the apartment, wiped down the counters, and took out the trash. Small things, but I knew they helped.
By the time I was done, the sun was creeping through the window, and it was time to get ready for work.
I arrived just as the foreman was handing out assignments.
"Luis! You're on lifting duty today," he barked, barely looking at me.
That meant hauling bricks, loading and unloading cement bags, and carrying metal beams across the site.
I threw on my gloves and got to it. The work was brutal, my arms burning after just an hour, but I pushed through.
By lunchtime, I was dead tired. I sat on a stack of lumber, eating a sandwich I'd packed.
One of the older workers, a guy named Hector, sat next to me.
"You look beat, kid," he said, taking a bite of his own food.
I let out a tired chuckle. "Yeah, well… gotta do what I gotta do, right?"
Hector nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "You're a hard worker. But don't kill yourself. Ain't nothing in this life worth breaking your back over."
I nodded, but I didn't say anything. Because what could I tell him? That lifting bricks wasn't even the hardest part of my life? That I was running drugs at night and hiding it from my own family?
So I just finished my sandwich, wiped the sweat from my forehead, and got back to work.