The Night of the Virgin by Elliott Turner

Author:Elliott Turner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: soccer, soccer book, soccer novel
Publisher: Elliott Turner

Chapter 28

Manny awoke in the guest bedroom of his dad’s two-story house to the smell of chile, eggs, corn tortillas, and tomato sauce. The unmistakable odor sneaked in under the crack between the floor and door. He heard a woman singing, the sizzling of pans, and the constant hum of a plugged-in fan. He felt the soft comforter and queen-sized mattress under his back. He looked at the white wooden desk in the corner, finely painted blue walls, and carefully hung black-and-white pictures of long-deceased relatives. Despite being much wealthier at this point in his life, he recalled his childhood and felt envy stir inside him.

Yesterday, after visiting his dad’s grave and leaving flowers, Xoco and Anselma had taken him on a tour of San Cristóbal in their yellow BMW. They showed him the ancient chapel where they were baptised, took first communion, and were confirmed. They drove by the Catholic prepa where both had studied from preschool to colegio. Then, they showed him the small campus of a private university where Anselma had recently finished her Pharmacy Doctorate.

Manny rode around, but his mind drifted elsewhere and he thought of his dad’s red truck and his mom’s faded gray Camry without working A/C. He remembered having to bum rides to school from Hector his freshmen year. After returning to Brownsville from San Francisco, he had also had to bum rides from co-workers. As a small child, his family’s cramped apartment had meant that he often slept on a twin mattress, no box spring or bed frame, with Pablo. His sister had slept on another mattress on the other side of the room.

Both his half-sisters lived with boyfriends in nearby Tuxtla Gutierrez, but came home most weekends. During the two days Manny was there, a constant stream of visitors came to the house; the guests sipped café con leche out front in nice wooden lawn chairs and chatted about the weather, la política, and neighborhood chisme. They introduced Manny as their brother from the US, and a few guests recognized him as a futbolista.

The smell was too much, so Manny sat up and got out of bed. He tossed on some clothes and his mouth watered. Every time he smelled that combination of huevo revuelto, corn tortillas, and chile, he recalled Saturday mornings in grade school when his mom made the stuff by the truckload. He thought of that famous line: “Nothing but a moment of the past? Much more perhaps…”

His cell phone rang. His agent had news about the legal case regarding his dad’s Last Will and Testament. Apparently, Manny enjoyed a right to one-third of the house and a ranch just outside San Cristóbal, but there was one problem: they were heavily mortgaged to the tune of at least six-figures. The family’s attorney had subtly intimated to Manny’s agent that the family would like for Manny, the millionaire footballer, to pay off those debts. Manny hung up the phone and suddenly lost his hunger. He laid back on the bed.

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