“Anarchy.”
“Agency.” With that she raised her voice and shouted. “？Oye! Entren!” And two Pa?uelos armed with AK-47s walked into the room and stood at the entrance.
“Prieto, this is why you need to leave us alone. Only Puerto Ricans can unshackle themselves. Just as PROMESA helped our cause, so will Maria. Don’t fight for aid for us; stop bringing the cameras down with you. Stop being a hero.…”
“But without public pressure, the government won’t act, and people will die.”
“？Co?o! Don’t you know that they’re already dead? Let the people see what the government really thinks of them. Let them be reminded that they were considered worthless. And they will see that it was their own people who saved them. Their own people who created power, who grew food, even provided water. And you”—and now she looked at him—“you should worry about your own backyard. Because it looks like a hell of a mess from where I’m standing.”
He stared at her.
“Mercedes is already on her way back to San Juan. These men are going to take you directly to the airport.”
“Wait. So, you’re telling me to go home?”
“Yes, mijo. And do not come back. That’s a command and not a request. That is the best thing for you, personally, and for Puerto Rico. ?Entiendes?”
As she moved in to embrace him, he recoiled. It occurred to him that she’d not even tried to hug him when he first arrived. After all those years.
“Don’t touch me,” he said as he pushed her away and walked out the door.
CONTROL
Although Charmaine had assured him repeatedly that Olga would come around, Dick was still surprised—and delighted—when she texted saying she had a business proposition for him and wondered if he might want to discuss it over dinner. She’d suggested that they meet at a restaurant downtown, but he wanted to make himself clear; he had missed her, he appreciated this second chance. So, he insisted that she come to his apartment where he would, personally, make her dinner. She didn’t reply immediately, which made him feel, for a moment, insecure regarding her intentions. But just as he had talked himself around it—what business proposition could she possibly have for him?—she wrote back saying that sounded sweet, but certainly too much trouble. To which he replied that she was worth it.
Dick had been ruminating on Olga, the individual, not just as his preferred physical companion, more than ever. First, of course, because of her television rant, which Nick and the boys from Exeter were all too excited to share on their group chat. But also because of all he’d learned from Agent Bonilla. While he was sure Olga didn’t know most of it, just the broad strokes—being raised and then abandoned by a radical lunatic, losing her father to such a terrifying disease—it obviously had to have impacted her. Yet she had thrived. Had climbed into the same rooms with men such as himself who had been born with what some might think of as a bit of a leg up. It shone on her a new light of admiration. Indeed, he even gave her odious brother a moment of reconsideration. Such a remarkable rise. It made him feel oddly patriotic; the American dream, still possible.
He decided that, given this new information, if he had another chance with her, he would make it a point to look past foibles that led to incidents like the one at the party; it was akin to blaming a cat for having claws. The same could be said of her outburst on that morning show. At first, he’d been offended. Olga had made plenty of money off his family; her late fees alone were just short of highway robbery. Capitalism and the “elite” had serviced her well as far as Dick could tell. But he recast the episode after reviewing Bonilla’s file. Given the tree she’d fallen from, he was frankly happy she wasn’t more extreme. Besides, they had been in love; Dick of all people knew that while Olga might harbor feelings of resentment for the wealthy on an intellectual level, she did still see, and appreciate, people as individuals.
* * *
DICK MADE A beef Bolognese; it was his favorite thing to cook, having worked on this recipe since his college days. He made a playlist for the occasion, which now streamed through his Sonos. He’d given the housekeeper the night off. In his mind, he hoped they might do the dishes together. He wanted Olga to see that he was relatable.
She arrived exactly at 7 P.M. and brought a bottle of wine, which he found a sweet gesture, as she of all people knew that he had more than enough wine to get them through a hundred dinners. He was a bit surprised at her appearance. Normally when they got together, she was clad in high heels and some sort of dress, but today she arrived in jeans, sneakers, and a V-neck sweater that only hinted at her ample cleavage. She wore just the faintest touch of makeup on her face.