The Maid

1.

  New York

As I stumble through the crowed streets of New York I feel the icy unrelenting winds sweep through my body. Although, I have lived here for quite a few months now I feel unacostumed to its brutal weather. My home has always been surrounded by warm even hot intense weather, but as the numbing feeling in my fingers increases I realize I'm no longer home. From once bathing in the warm, soothing waves of the sun I've gone to my body tensing, jaw clenching from the bitter cold the only medicine to soothe my shaken senses was provided by a hot even a scorched coffee. Slithering through the mass of people I think of my mother and how much I miss her. From her warm smile, to the brightness that shine through her eyes all these memories hit me in waves that bring sadness and regret along with it. Thinking back I realize how reckless it was of me to leave her behind with no clue of my intentions. The youngest from her three daughters suddenly missing just leaving behind a simple letter.
" Mami, quiero que sepa que la quiero mucho y por eso he decidido darle lo que usted mas necesita. Muy pronto escuchara de mi. Te quiero~ Carmen"

At the age of thirteen, I left from México and came to the United States alone. I had no guidance or help my English was poor but it did not stop me. My goal was to send money to my mother to get her the medicine and surgery she desperately needed. I had stayed in Texas for three years having little jobs as a housekeeper, and a beginning mechanic.
At the age of 17, I moved to Florida there I picked fresh oranges from plantation centers as a living. I could still feel the sweet thorns piercing through my fingerstips. As I'm about to open the door from the mechanic shop I'm currently working in I look down at my calloused hands. Small needle like scars littered from my fingers to my wrist. With a scowl plastered in my face I push through the door.

"¡Hola Carmen!" , as I turned to face the noise I come to face Don Julio sporting a warm, contagious smile.

"¿Como esta Don Julio?", I asked my own smile slowly erasing my previous scowl.

"Yo estoy bien, la vieja no me deja en paz pero sigo vivo", he responded with a slight chuckle at the end.

Don Julio is a sixty-five year old man that owns a auto repair shop in Manhattan, NY. I been working here for at least two months from 6:30 p.m to 11 p.m. Although it's not much I owe my life to Don Julio he took me in with no questions asked.

"Dígale que yo le mando saludos", I say walking away. As I move outside, I sit in the shade where I can have a clear view of the street and incoming customers.
Almost an hour outside and business seems low today. I decide to go inside the chilly winds having an enormous part in my decision. While I'm in the midst of standing up I notice an expensive looking car slowly rounding up the corner of the street. As I look closely, I notice there's no one at the passenger's seat.

Therefore, I ran towards it and go to the back of the car. There I find a man pushing the car. Noticing he is in a dress suit I notice he has fallen as a victim to unexpected problems at unconvinient times. I can tell he's tired so I pushed along with him. Feeling his eyes on me I kept my eyesight foward ignoring him completely. Stopping only when the car was at the wide driveway of the shop. I pulled out one of the chairs letting him catch his breath. Making my way to the car I take note it's a beautiful Maserati Ghibil, a car like this could easily fix my problems. As I lift up the hood I still feel the man's eyes on me so I turn just enough to face him.
Hijo de su .. damn...
He was the definition of perfect. He looked devilishly handsome with his sharp jaw and piercing blue eyes. Tall and lean muscle clearly displayed through his black dress shirt. Feeling my face suddenly hot I swiftly turn away from him.
"It just stopped in the middle of the streets. It completely turned off on me. It's the battery just change it and it'll be good.", he said while making a move to stand. Although his deep voice kept me slightly captivated I couldn't help but get mad. Suddenly I'm being bossed around. I'm the one with experience and I know for sure it isn't the battery. Maseratis are beautiful and luxurious but have the small glitch of the engines seizing.

I shook my head not wanting to respond in English feeling suddenly vulnerable. I've always felt insecure of my English, seven years in the states and I hadn't perfected it as I hoped. Besides I never had the time to actually practice, always purposely surrounding myself in Latin communities, there was no need to.

I pointed to the chair as a silent demand and began my work. After almost an hour of working and hearing annoyed huffs I was done. Leading the man to the cash register and pointed to the problems listed on a board and it's prices. Pointing my finger directly on Engine pump repair.
"Two-hundred dollars sir", I said in a low voice.
He stared at me for almost a minute before paying. Almost completely into the car does he say thanks and drives away.