Maria Flores drove down the noisy, dirty street, kept at bay by the comfortable leather seats and cool air flowing from the vents of her shiny Tesla. A rare smile covered Flores’ face. Her company had just struck a huge, much needed deal.
Stopped at the light, Flores glanced at a homeless man on the corner of 11th and Perdonar Avenue. After sitting for a moment, she decided she could be generous with what she had worked for, and pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of her wallet. She handed it through the window to the man as the impatient drivers behind her honked. Her guilt eased, she drove back to her condo to look over the contract.
The man on the corner stood, looking at Andrew Jackson in his hand. At least it was another meal, he thought sadly, but what he really needed was a job. The man stood, thinking about his life. He was in a cycle of self-pity, but as he looked at the money that a complete stranger had given him, he decided he could help himself too. He decided to pull himself out of the hole.
The next day, the man walked up to Lakeside Construction. It was a menacing building, towering above him. The architecture was simple, but sleek. The parking lot was somehow more impressive, filled with expensive cars and powerful machines. He felt out of place, walking in with his old jeans and resumé in a cheap folder.
The receptionist glanced up at him as he walked through the automatic doors. “Yes?”
“I’m… uh…looking for a job. Please,” he said, remembering his manners. The woman stared at him for a moment, then motioned to a bench against the wall.
“Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll see if I can get you in, but we’re very busy. Most people make an appointment.” The receptionist glanced disapprovingly at the man’s dusty pants. She knew she certainly wouldn’t hire him, but it wasn’t her choice.
The man felt suddenly self-conscious, trying to wipe the dust off his pants before he sat down. There was nothing to do but sit and think.
11th and Perdonar
After 30 minutes of sitting on the torturous bench under the judging gaze of the receptionist, she called out “Our executive will see you now.”
She made no motion to stand up and show him the way, so the man glanced around and walked to the elevator. He made sure he still had his folder, then looked at the glowing buttons. There were six floors, two basements. After a moment’s hesitation, he pressed the button for the top floor.
The man exited the elevator and was amazed at the view. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so high up. The sun glinted off the lake, barely hindered by the glass. A breeze gently rustled the trees. If this went well, the man realized, he could be putting this glass in, he could be erecting these glorious monuments.
Swallowing his nerves, the man turned from the view to read the nameplate next to the door. His heart nearly stopped.
Maria Flores
President
The nerves he had been fighting rushed back, and he considered turning around and leaving this arrogant tower. No, he thought, he had come this far. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Struggling to control his breath, the man knocked once on the door.
A muffled “Come in!” echoed from inside. The man hesitantly pushed the door open and stepped inside. He cringed as it slammed behind him. The woman inside was young, maybe in her late twenties. She wore an elegant business suit, and had a no-nonsense face. She gestured to the chair, not lazily as the receptionist had, but like a hawk, scanning him, making mental notes on everything she saw.
The man fiddled with the folder as he sat in the chair, notably smaller than the woman’s.
She looked at the man, recognizing him as the one she had just given money to. She wondered what it meant. It couldn’t be a coincidence. “What’s your name?” she asked, reaching for the folder.
“Carlos Flores,” the man said, looking into her eyes, trying to hide his fear.
The woman’s demeanor changed immediately. “Sal de aquí! Get out!” the woman shouted, pointing at the door. She tossed the folder at him, and stood to her full height. “Go!” she shouted at a scrambling Carlos. As he let the door slam behind him, she sat heavily back in her chair. After all these years, why did her father show up in her life again? Why must he always torture her?
On the drive back, Flores was careful to avoid Perdonar avenue, instead taking the scenic route along the lake. Her mind was elsewhere, however, on Carlos’ face, and what he had done. When she got home, Flores felt more like drinking coffee and doing a crossword puzzle than working on anything else. She was supposed to go over some blueprints and make sure they matched with the client’s specifications, but she had too much on her mind.
When she woke up, everything seemed okay. It might as well have been a dream. Maria Flores was not tormented by the past. She couldn’t be.
The other Flores, however, was. He sat beneath the shade of a highway bridge, ignoring the few people who stopped to offer him spare change. All he could think about were his mistakes, how they had driven his wife and daughter away, and where they had left him. Life was brutal, he thought. No matter the direction he turned, his past choices haunted him.
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, the executive of Lakeside Construction had finally decided to examine the blueprint. She sat on her laptop, the screen illuminating her face late in the evening. She quickly compared it with the building codes, then went over the client’s details.
It was a community center, with a shelter, food shelf, gym, and pavilions. It was a huge project for the government and she would have to be supervising it.
After analyzing it for a time, she decided it was an attempt by the mayor to take homeless people off the streets. The center would provide good jobs, stronger community, and supplies for those in need. Why did everything have to remind her of Carlos?
Flores was late to work the next day. She had driven along the lake, even speeding, something she rarely did. She marched into the building, but stopped suddenly, when she realized one of the mayor’s representatives was here. She must have looked quite unprofessional walking in like that.
The man raised his eyebrow, quickly taking in the president of this construction company. “Nice of you to join us,” he said.
Flores, through years of practice, hid her annoyance and embarrassment at his statement. “Shall we go over the blueprints one more time?”
Flores leaned back in her leather seat. It had been a hard day. The government official was prideful and demanding. He didn’t seem to appreciate all her hard work. That was the price you paid for success, she decided. Without thinking, she pulled her car out onto Perdonar avenue.
At 11th street, Flores again stopped at the light. Rain was pelting down, reflecting her mood. She tried to keep her head down, but she saw Carlos walking toward the corner. She started to turn away, then saw what he was doing. A small tent was flapping in the wind, and inside, Flores could see a woman and her girl, huddled together, soaking wet.
Carlos began nailing the tent pegs back down, and when he realized they were missing two, he pulled some from his pocket, and stomped them in with his ripped and broken boots.
The mother was thanking him profusely, but as Flores watched the scene, mesmerized, she saw herself and her mother, alone, and with nothing in the world. She saw a man, a stranger, help them when they needed it most.
Maria’s eyebrows went up farther as Carlos pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, perhaps the same one she had given him, and gave it to the woman. Maria drove away as the woman, in happy tears, hugged Carlos. It was a small act, but it was everything he had.
Maria had the thought on her mind the rest of the day. Carlos had changed. She couldn’t ignore it.
Weeks had passed. Maria couldn’t ignore the problem much more. The guilt was growing, everytime she drove along the lake, every time she looked at the blueprints, every time she heard a door slam. This was a problem she couldn’t solve with money or hard work.
And why should she feel guilty? She hadn’t done anything. It was him, Carlos, who had hurt her. It was his fault that he was in this position.
But Maria knew that there was nothing to be gained by avoiding problems. She had to confront it, and soon.
Maria woke up early. She couldn’t be late again–and she had something to do. She pulled her car over off Perdonar, and got out, walking up one block. She found Carlos where he always was. He glanced up, then quickly looked down.
“Yes?” he said, still staring at his shoes.
“We’ve decided to accept your application to Lakeside Construction. You are welcome to start when ready.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m not joking. We’re going to need a larger workforce with the new community building.”
Carlos stared into the distance, thinking about everything he had done, and what he deserved.
“...Thank you.”
Maria put her hand out. Carlos glanced up, stood, and shook her hand. Then he turned to sit down.
After a moment, Maria said quietly “What are you doing?”
“Sitting here.” What did it look like he was doing?
“Ven aquí, Papá” she said, extending her hand, this time to help him up. “Let’s get you home.”