Building My Life

Chapter 06

Sunlight streamed through the open window, illuminating Josias’s room. When the light reached his eyes, Josias was forced to wake up, even against his will.

He stretched on the bed, under a thin sheet that had been folded there when he entered. His sweatpants were draped over the back of a wooden chair. Aside from that and a dresser, there was nothing else in the room.

Josias got up, still wearing his briefs, went to the open door of the balcony (he always had this habit of sleeping with the window open, even with mosquitoes coming in — which was why the window had been providentially open when he needed to escape), and watched the activity of the shantytown.

From the third floor, he had a good view of the area. As he looked down, he saw children and teenagers in school uniforms going to study, women dressed in business attire, probably going to work as shop assistants or secretaries, older women going to work as housekeepers for wealthy families, and men in industrial uniforms or casual clothes, heading out for informal work.

If Josias had been on the main street, even on the third floor, he would have been woken up earlier by the neighborhood noise. A van that had seen better days passed by. Josias could see it from afar, turning the corner. No, Happiness Slum did not have a bus; it was probably this van that transported residents.

Across the way, in another four-story building, a girl on the third floor watched Josias from her window. She was smiling, approving of Josias’s good looks, especially his arms and chest, as he was shirtless.

Josias had Arab features, which made him attractive to the opposite s*x. His skin was olive-toned, as if tanned by the Middle Eastern sun; his eyes were dark, and his face expressed the authority of a sheikh. Josias turned and accidentally met her gaze; the two of them exchanged a smile. The girl could hardly imagine that Josias was only in his underwear!

Josias left the balcony, much to the girl’s disappointment. He went to the chair and put on his sweatpants. They already had some dirt on them. Josias rubbed his chin, wondering what he was going to do about washing his clothes. Then, he started to wonder about his own hygiene.

The room had no bathroom. How do people take care of their needs here?

Thinking about it, Josias put on his slippers and left, not even bothering to lock the door because he had nothing worth stealing. When he went down to the first floor, he looked for Teodoro.

The building owner was at the counter, looking intently at the radio, listening to the morning news. His frown told Josias that it was bad news.

“Good morning, Mr. Teodoro,” Josias ventured to say. “How are you?”

The announcer reported on the radio: “... Investigations are continuing by the civil police. Unfortunately, neighbors refused to give any information. We will wait for more news on this crime in Rainbow Garden.”

Teodoro lowered the volume and turned to Josias with a rueful look. “I’m sorry, young man. They just confirmed it on the morning news. Your father was murdered; they found his body still lying on the couch. Whoever did it, cleared out your house, stealing everything they could to make up for the debt. But the neighbors refused to help the police for fear of reprisals.”

And then, for the first time, Josias started to cry about his father’s death. So much had happened that he hadn’t even had time for that. Mr. Rocha had not been an exemplary father to Josias and had died because of yet another one of his stupid mistakes. But that was not why Josias would have wished for his father’s death.

Teodoro came out from behind the counter and hugged the young man. “Calm down, take it easy. Everything will be fine.”

Yes, Josias believed that strongly. It was just pain and grief that he needed to vent — to let out, to relieve his chest. If it weren’t for that, Josias would’ve been at home having breakfast, showered, and with his teeth brushed.

But now he was there, dressed only in sweatpants (which were not appropriate for a day that promised to be hot) and slippers, with less than five bucks in his pocket. Practically nothing.