I watched Mr Cortez from the window of my office, whistling and doing his job joyfully. He has gained weight in a few weeks since he started working for me.
I smiled. I was happy to be able to be part of his story.
I can still remember that fateful day I met him soaked to his feet in the middle of the night. I couldn't tell if it was a coincidence or just the universe that made the silence in my apartment that night feel heavier than the weather.
It's been raining cats and dogs. Every sane person would prefer being home and warm in bed. But I had sneaked out into the lonely streets. My raincoat stuck to my body. I had no direction in mind, my only motive was to kill that storm within me.
Just a few meters away from home. I saw him bent over the curb. He curved like a man carrying the world on his shoulders. He had no raincoat on him nor an umbrella, just a silk shirt clinging now to his body like wet paper.
I almost walked past him thinking that he might be drunk on alcohol. I thought to stop and ask if he was okay. But it was safer to be far away from strangers on such a lonely rainy night. At least, I knew this from the wild crime documentaries I saw every Friday. But there was something about the way he sat, unmoving, letting the storm do what it wanted.
Suddenly, my feet betrayed me.
“Hello sir, you’ll catch a cold out here,” I said softly, stopping beside him yet being careful not to get too close.
He didn’t look at me. But I heard his voice, it was rougher than the rain,
“It's better if I catch a cold than my children see me cry.”
His words hit me hard in the chest. I summoned courage and moved closer. Then gently, I crouched down, still careful enough to leave a space between us. The streetlight hit his eyes as he lifted his face a little. They were red, his face was wet but not fully from the rain.
“So you prefer to hide from them?” I asked.
I knew his problems weren't supposed to be my concern, but seeing a full-blown man in such a position stirred something in me. Something I've long forgotten after I made my wealth and took my family out of poverty. Of my father and the days he stayed outside and talked to himself about how he would take care of us.
I didn't expect him to respond but he nodded. “A man isn't supposed to cry, isn't he? Especially a father. Imagine what would happen if his family saw him in such a vulnerable state. You're supposed to be the wall .” His voice cracked. “So I came outside. Let the rain cover me.”
I swallowed. There was so much shame and grief in his tone. I could also sense this quiet plea from him to be understood.
“You don’t have to be a wall all the time,” I said gently then I sat on the curb with him.
He looked at me like he was confused as to why I cared and bent his head again. "Do I know you? You look like I've seen you on TV." He asked.
"I'm sure you're mistaken," I replied with a smile.
He stared at me awkwardly and shrugged his shoulders.
"What exactly is the problem, if I may ask?" I asked.
He dragged in a shaky breath. “I lost my job two years ago. Been pretending it’s fine. My wife tried to believe in me, God bless her. But bills keep piling. And she keeps paying them, till today we couldn't even afford a meal.” His voice trailed. He blinked against the rain. "I've failed my family." He said.
I felt the sting in my own chest. I wanted to tell him I understood. But is that really what a man like him needed at this point? The rain has stopped now. Just a cold wind blowing.
"You haven't. You're just unlucky to be caught up in this harsh economy,” I whispered.
He looked at me again.
I nodded like I was agreeing alone to what I said.
"I'll make you an offer. Meet me tomorrow at the same time, same place and I'll give you a job."
He scoffed. "If it was that easy."
I smiled. "Go home Mr..." I dragged the last word for him to say his name.
"..Cortez."
"Mr Cortez. I don't want you to catch a cold. And if you believe in miracles, meet me here tomorrow, then we'll talk this out." I stood up and walked away from him. Back to my house without looking back.
A few feet away from him he called out to me.
"Hey!"
I turned.
"I remember you now!" he yelled.
"Really?" I asked, pretending not to know what he was saying.
"Miss Vasquez. You're Miss Vasquez of the 'Vas Empire'."
I laughed. "You caught me, Mr Cortez. Same time tomorrow. Come alone."
When I finally rose and turned toward my apartment, the silence that waited there felt different. Not empty. Not heavy. Just human.
