Rich Boy – Part 1

In loving memory of my mother.

It was one those intense days of my boyhood when I was in the third grade and went to school only once in a while. Mostly, just to see what was going on. In those days, I went and spent time with the shoe shine boys at the “parque central” (central park) because I wanted to stay away from my mean teacher and the bullies.

My father was a public bus driver. He drove a green bus that was number 47 for EGA (one of the many public transportation companies). Every morning he would get up very early and venture out into the dark. I remember watching him say goodbye to my mom after having a cup of coffee. I felt kind of bad for him because he had to get up so early. I was just up to go to the bathroom and then back to bed. I was grateful for a hard working father and glad that I was a kid and didn’t have to work like that…yet.

At night, when he returned from his shift, he would come home to count the money from the bus fares to make sure he was not short or over the required amount. If he had extra in his “fichero” (money tray) he would get to keep it. He called that his “moco.” Every night, when he got home, my brothers and I would rush to greet him and get in his bus to check under the seats for loose coins and goods that people would leave behind. We would lift the seat cushions and find everything from combs,to nail clippers, to guitar picks, to coins and of course trash.

On this particular night, I found something extraordinary! Something that would change my life. I found a wallet!! When I saw it, I felt a serious adrenaline rush like never before. I grabbed it and quickly put it in my pocket without telling my brothers about it. My heart was pounding as I looked at my brothers arguing over a little toy they had found. They both claimed to have seen it first. I felt as if I had found a dead man and was trying to cover it up! After searching the bus for treasures, the routine was to sweep the floor of the bus so that it would be clean for the next day.

As we swept the floor, I couldn’t stop thinking about the wallet in my pocket. It was burning my leg! “Why are you so quiet?” my brothers asked. Usually I would sing to the top of my voice during sweeping time to enjoy the reverberations around the bus. I didn’t say anything because I was afraid my voice would give me away. When we went inside, my father was done with his accounting and left to return the bus to the parking lot. I went into the bathroom which was outdoors and across the yard. Usually, I didn’t venture there alone because I was dreadfully afraid of the dark. I had to light a match to see by the dark. What was inside the wallet? My heart was pounding so hard in my chest I actually felt dizzy. I opened the fold and almost passed out. A bunch of money!! Twenty three Quetzales! Back then this was equivalent to twenty three dollars. Ahhhhh!

To be continued…