The Cartel Lawyer Dave Daren (best motivational books for students .txt) 📖

who had given me life. She seemed diminished, and my mind raced with terrible possibilities.

“It’s nothing, hijo,” she waved her hand and then pulled the pot of rice and beans off of the burner before she turned it off. “Are you hungry? I made too much.”

“Don’t change the subject,” I said while she reached up to pull down two bowls. “What’s going on?”

“Why don’t we eat?” she responded as she filled a bowl with the rice and beans. “We’ll talk after.”

She retrieved the shredded chicken from the oven and added a large heap to the bowl before she handed it to me.

“Food won’t distract me,” I grumbled, though I took the offered food.

She filled a second bowl with a much smaller serving, I noticed, and then she shooed me toward the wood table. It was old and scarred, and it had sat in the same spot for as long as I could remember.

“I hope you like it,” she said as we sat down. “They didn’t have the paprika I prefer.”

“Still not distracting me,” I insisted.

“Of course not,” she grinned, but the light of it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But it’ll help.”

“Is it that bad?” I asked before I stuffed a bite of the rice into my mouth.

It was seasoned with Adobo, and the familiar flavors danced across my tongue as I chewed. My mom had made this dish for me since I was old enough to chew, and it was always my favorite.

“It’ll be fine, hijo,” my mother replied. But she didn’t eat any of her chicken, and instead, she reached over to pat my arm affectionately.

“You always say that,” I replied as I narrowed my eyes and then picked up her fork to urge her to eat something.

“And it always is,” she responded as she took the fork from my hand and poked at her food. “What brings you over today? You didn’t just come to see your old mama.”

“I got a job offer,” I told her, and a little bit of the joy from earlier resurfaced despite my worry. “It’s at a prestigious law firm. I’ll be making a little bit more money so I can help you out around here more.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary, hijo,” the older woman waved her hand dismissively, but her eyes brimmed with more unshed tears that she quickly hid by standing up and hustling to the sink for a glass of water.

“Mama,” I said as I put down my fork. “What’s going on?”

I had rarely seen this strong woman cry, even when my father had died when I was young. Even during all those long years she’d worked as a single mother to raise me, she’d barely shed a tear.

“I just got some tough news today, mi amor,” she replied as she set her water glass down.

She hadn’t turned to face me yet, so I stood up, walked over to her chair, and lifted her chin so I could look into her eyes.

“Did you lose your job?” I asked.

“No, Roberto,” my mother replied as she patted my cheek.

She gave me a sad smile before she eased back into her chair, and then she took a deep breath as if she were preparing to say something she didn’t want to say. Panic surged through me as I saw how much she struggled to get the words out, and a flood of horrible possibilities flitted through my mind.

“So what’s so bad?” I pressed as I sat down. “Are you sick?”

“I have cancer, hijo,” she whispered.

The world as I knew it fell away as her words sunk in. My wonderful mother had cancer, and I had no idea what to do.

Chapter 2

“I’ll call you tonight,” I told my mother as I leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

I’d spent the night at her house while we talked about her diagnosis and the treatment she faced. It was still early in the process, and there were more tests to be done to find out just how bad it was. The results wouldn’t be in for at least a few weeks. The best we could hope for was that it wouldn’t be something that the doctors couldn’t treat.

She would have to take some time off during her treatment, and hers wasn’t the type of job that offered paid time off. So I would have to support both of us, plus cover the medical expenses that her cheap insurance plan wouldn’t cover. I couldn’t shake the dread that had settled in my stomach as I thought about all of the cancer horror stories that I had heard over the years, especially those that ended in bankruptcy. And the numbers I’d found online when I did a quick search didn’t make me feel any better.

I had reviewed my budget over coffee while she had slept in. It was the first time in years that I could remember her staying in bed past dawn, and I couldn’t decide whether I was happy that she’d been able to rest or worried that she’d been tired enough to sleep late.

I would have to broach the subject of a possible move once we knew what her doctor suggested. She wouldn’t be able to maintain the house while she was in treatment, and I couldn’t afford to cover the medical bills and both households even with the potential pay raise. The written offer from the law firm had come in during the night, but by the time I laid down in my old room to crash, I’d been too exhausted to process it properly and decided to go over it when I woke up.

Luckily, the Public Defender’s Office never expected me to be in my cubicle at a certain hour because they knew my clients tended to call for help at all hours. The paralegals would just