1 The Breakfast Rush
Lando Cruz awoke and sat up fast, slamming his head against hard wood. “Ufff,” he whispered. I’ve got to do something about that. The clock showed 2:59AM. Lando grabbed his phone and disabled the alarm. He pushed open the folding door and stepped out of the closet. He looked at the big bed and smiled. Phew, sound asleep. I might just make it today.
Lando crept toward the kitchen, a rising excitement in his chest. Breakfast rush, here I come!
“Lando,” cried a sleepy voice. “Lando!”
Lando slumped. Just a drink of water. Just a drink of water.
“Bathroom, now.” his dad said from the bed.
“You should really try yoga dad, it has really helped a lot of people.” Lando carried his dad’s weight on his shoulders as he hobbled to the toilet.
“Don’t worry, Lando, I’m almost done. I won’t be a burden on you much longer.”
Lando lowered him onto the seat. “Dad, come on. I just want you to be better again. I need you.”
His dad grimaced and hunched down. “That’s … a load of bullshit … just like the one coming out … right now.” A wry grin spread over his face before the grimace returned. “If you need me, then you’re fucked, and so is Mariana. Don’t need me!” A low whimper escaped him.
Lando covered his nose and looked away. “Maybe a stationary bike, dad. They say that the leg movement helps your digestion.”
His dad twisted up to look at Lando. “A stationary bike? How about the rent. The bills, now that would be a luxury. A stationary bike! Ha! That’s a dream you can’t afford.”
“I just want you to be well—”
“And to not have to wipe my ass. I get it, son. I wouldn’t have enjoyed wiping my dad’s ass, either. Like I said, I’ll be shoving off soon. And then you will need to care for your sister.” His dad looked up at Lando, his eyes narrowed. “I am dead serious about caring for your sister. She’s a princess and you will treat her as such. I want the same legal citizenship papers for her that your mom and I got for you. Remember the deal we made.”
“Dad! I remember.” Lando grunted and rolled his eyes. How could I forget and why must you keep reminding me?
His dad held his gaze, evaluating him. “OK. Go ahead.”
Lando took care of the dirty work and settled his father back into bed.
“Now get out there, son, and make some money.”
Lando stirred, in turn, each of the four tall, bubbling pots on the tiny but spotless propane stoves. He glanced out of the second-story kitchen window to the old walkup across the street. The cops blew out the windows last month. Inside, that squatter was pissing out the back window as he smoked a cigarette laced with something Lando didn’t want to think about. Fuck this place. And fuck you, you dirty bum.
Lando’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He grabbed a threadbare towel and pulled a small tray out of the toaster oven. Dad’s special brownies. Lando snickered. Oh what he would do to me if he knew.
He checked the clock. 4:30AM. Time for Princess Mariana to wake from her slumber. Lando laid out two large almond flour tortillas on a scratched and dented metal plate. He dropped some refried beans, a long chunk of mozzarella cheese, fried pork slices and a crescent lump of spring green avocado on top. He rolled it all up and walked briskly to his sister’s room. Some princess. She eats like a horse.
He banged on the door, then opened it. “Mariana, time for breakfast.” He let the plate drop from a modest height onto her plastic side table.
She snored.
Lando clapped his hands twice. “Mariana, I’m trying to catch the breakfast rush here!”
The body on the bed did not move.
Lando grabbed her shoulder and shook. Do real princesses snore?
Mariana rolled over.
“Mari, now! Your food is here. Get up. You’ve got studying to do.”
“No, no, not yet, just five more minutes, Lando, please.” She looked out at him from underneath the covers, her sleepy eyes arching downwards at the extremes, pleading with him. She alternatively frowned and smiled.
Manipulator. “Get yourself up, Mari. I can’t miss the breakfast rush today. Rent is due!” Lando yelled.
Mariana sniffed her breakfast. “Oh my God, that smells great. Can I have some coffee, too, please?” Mariana tucked in, sucking down Lando’s breakfast burritos in slurps and gulps.
“No coffee. It will stunt your growth. And we know you need every inch.” Lando snickered.
Mariana whimpered, then made a pleading sound through her full mouth.
“I’m out of here. Get serious with your studying little girl. Harvard.”
“Wait,” Mariana said. “I need lunch money.”
“I packed you a lunch. It’s next to the stove. Like always.”
Her mouth full of breakfast burrito, she held out her hands and cocked her head sideways. She frowned.
Lando sighed. Oh she’s going to be a terror. He pulled $50 out of his wallet and left it on the table. “Don’t spend it all in one place. It’s all we’ve got right now.”
Mariana shook her head from side to side and moved her arms in a dance. She outstretched her left arm and stuck out her index and pinky fingers - sign language for “I love you.”
You are so spoiled! Lando pointed his index finger at her. “Stay away from the boys!”
Mariana ripped off another chunk, and saluted.
“Dad, get some more sleep.” Lando said.
His dad rolled into the kitchen, the nurse pushing him. “You know I can’t sleep past 5AM anymore.” His dad scowled. “How come you’re not out yet?”
“I’m leaving now, dad, just finished loading the food on the cart. Mari is up and eating. I left yours and Lizzy’s breakfast next to the —”
His dad moved his head violently. “Why don’t you just get a corporate job, boy? Breaking your back for pennies a day, selling burritos on the street!” His dad turned up his nose and frowned. “How will you ever put Mari through college on that?”
“Dad, I gotta go if I’m going to catch the breakfast rush.” Not this again!
“You realize when I die that my disability checks won’t come anymore, right?”
“Yes, dad, of course. Now—”
“What are you going to do then? We’re already losing this place.”
I’m going to go work, dad! “You know I have my bitcoin business. Currency exchanges really rake it in, dad. We’ve talked about this.” Lando let out a long sigh and rolled his eyes upwards.
His dad reached out and grabbed Lando’s collar. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, boy! This is serious! I’m already three months past my expiration date.” He let Lando go and hung his head. He strained to be absolutely still.
Lando put his hand on his dad’s shoulder.
His dad let out his breath. He took another one and breathed out through his mouth. “I want—”
“About that exp—” Lando started.
His dad threw his head up and raised his voice. “I want you to find, get and keep a corporate job. Now. It’s that simple. You need to build a future, not risk your neck for a crazy cause no one understands.”
Lando was silent.
“You are going to give me what I want.” He contemplated Lando. “You owe it to me, son.”
Lando opened his mouth but looked down at the floor. His stomach fell.
“And don’t tell me about your business. An unauthorized currency exchange is illegal. Selling those ridiculous burritos without a permit is illegal.”
“That’s the point, dad! In a world —”
“You are illegal!”
Lando threw his hands out in front of him and grabbed the hair at the back of his head. “Dad,” he whispered, “keep your voice down. Look, I gotta —”
“Why are you even involved in this political stuff, Lando? What is the point of these risks you take? One more strike and it’s five years. What happens to your sister then? Have you thought about that? Imagine for a minute what these animals will do with her.” He firmed his jaw.
Lando glanced at the kitchen clock. “I’m now officially late! Goodbye!” Lando walked out the front door, closing the flimsy slice of particle board gently behind him.
Lando mounted his food cart and started peddling up the hill toward center city. Damn, food is really heavy. I may have to —
A man in a polo shirt and a police officer stepped out in front of Lando. “Lando J. Cruz?” asked the police officer.
“Yeah, that’s him,” said the man in the polo shirt.
“Mr. Johanssen —” Lando started.
“Don’t start with me, kid.” Mr. Johanssen looked up the street. “Just pay me what you owe me right now.”
“Can you just —”
Mr. Johanssen looked Lando in the eye. “Three months back rent now, or our friendly policeman here evicts you. Right now. That’ll be $21,000, Mr. Cruz.”
“I’m pretty sure city law says you have to give us 30 days notice and then we can appeal, and that can take awhile, and then you can’t evict a senior suffering with a terminal illness —”
“Listen, Lando,” Mr. Johanssen put his face an inch from Lando’s nose. “This is Officer Mc— … What’s your name?” He glanced to his left.
“Hernandez,” said the cop.
“Officer Hernandez. I’ve got him all day. Once we move your stuff out, including your practically-dead dad, you’ve got nothing. You ‘voluntarily vacated,’ right Hernandez?”
“That’s right, sir.” The cop pulled out his nightstick and bounced its heavy side on the palm of his hand.
Lando narrowed his eyes and took a step back. “Have you gentlemen had breakfast yet?”