Rich Boy – Part 4

I had found a small fortune on a bus that I was cleaning. However, spending it in secret was hard and I was feeling bad about not telling my mom. Despite my troubles, it was one of those bright sunny days in my beautiful Guatemala. My mom asked me to go with her to the public market to get things to make lunch and as we walked she was sharing ideas of what she would cook. She said that she wanted to make “pulique” ( a delicious kind of beef soup) but then realized she didn’t have enough money to buy the meat. I put my hand in my pocket and squeezed the money very hard. My eyes filled up with tears. I wanted to give her all the money but I was afraid she would want to know where the money had come from and I was going to have to tell her the whole story. It was then that I realized how ashamed I was of having used all that money the way I had. What if I dropped a five Quetazles bill next to her foot when she wasn’t looking? Yes, that would be an easy way to have her find the money. I tried it but she didn’t look down. Instead, she stepped on the bill and walked away. Quickly, I picked it up and when she wasn’t looking I put it in her “delantal” (apron) pocket. My mom had resigned herself to liver for lunch which was the cheapest thing if you wanted meat.

All kinds of street dogs hung around the meat counters in hope of getting the meat scraps the butcher would trim off. Big pieces of meat hung from hooks, and as you ordered he would cut your piece off and brag about how he never gave you any junk saying that he would throw that to the dogs. They would fight over it till one got away with the prize. As we walked to the meat counter, I pretended to distract myself with the fighting dogs. My mom got to the meat counter and counted her money once. Then she counted it again. Then once more. A confused but very very happy look came over her face. She then bought the better meat and headed home in deep thought. She told me over and over again about the bill she had found in her pocket. The “pulique” was delicious. My mom served it with a big smile on her face as she told the story of the mysterious money that had appeared in her pocket. She claimed a miracle! My brother Armando looked into my tear filled eyes and smiled. After lunch he told me he was proud of me. I didn’t answer him but just nodded.

It was time for school and we all got two pennies. My mom was rich that day! It wasn’t long before I ran out of money. I placed coins where my younger siblings could find them so that in the end we all enjoyed my overwhelming fortune. I was relieved when the money was gone. It felt really good to have to ask my mom for a penny again. “Pulique” became my favorite dish from that day on. I think my mom was suspicious but never said a thing. Many years later when I would come home to Guatemala from the United States she would offer to make “pulique” for me.  I guess she knew it is my favorite dish.