The Summer House by Cristina Henríquez EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Cristina Henríquez
- Language: English
- Genre: 45-Minute Romance Short Reads
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Somebody was coming to pick me up that afternoon. Don Antonio had
called earlier and said just that. He had given no name for who it
would be, no time more specific than afternoon, and no explanation for
why. “Be ready,” he told me.
I had lived alone for a very long time in the house where I had been
raised. Aside from the telephone, it had few modern conveniences. Don
Antonio was the only person who ever called.
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Both of my parents had died by the time I was seventeen—first my
father, in a boating accident at sea, and three months later my mother, of
nothing identifiable. Heartbreak, the doctor who came to the house
pronounced after he examined her, and I remember I sputtered with laughter
at the word. It was only when the doctor looked at me with a puzzled
expression that I realized he had not been making a joke. And maybe, I
realized later, it was true. My mother had spent most of her time taking care
of my father, getting him his cigarettes, ironing his undershirts, cooking his
meals. What was that if not a version of love?
I was a slight, obedient boy, and after my parents died I had dropped
out of school to work at a small restaurant in town. What choice did I have?
My parents’ passing had left me alone in the world. Once or twice they had
mentioned relatives, but I had never met any of them, and if they existed,
none of them came for me. For twenty years, that had been my life—
working at the restaurant most days, coming home by myself most nights—
until five years ago when Don Antonio told the owner of the restaurant he
was looking for help, someone reliable and local, he said, and the owner
gave him my name.
Today, after Don Antonio called, I packed a duffel bag with a
toothbrush, a razor, and a change of clothes, then walked out of the house to
wait in the weeds along the dirt road. There were hardly any cars that drove
this way—over the years, anytime I had heard one, I could only assume that
the driver was lost—so I didn’t bother to look in either direction;
I knew I
would hear any vehicle as it neared. But after an hour, no one had come.
The sun baked the earth. I looked down at the bag at my feet and saw a leafcutter ant crawling over one of the handles. Slowly, I crouched.
“What do you think?” I asked the ant. “Is anyone coming for me?
Should I go back inside?”
I was considering it when I heard the growl of an engine. A blue
pickup truck came barreling down the road. I flicked the ant off into the dirt
and stood.
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