Last night, mother announced that she has hired someone to "help out around the house", as she put it herself. He turned out to be a 200 pound Mexican package of muscles in his early thirties called Hernan. Mom presented him to me as I was having breakfast in bed. He smiled at me with his perfectly white Hollywood teeth, his bare tattooed over arms glistened in the late morning sun.
I'm guessing this is not the first overly rich but lonely woman he's ever been hired to "work" for. After lunch he drove away in his brand new Porsche Cayenne, and the only one that had eaten anything by then was me. Mom came out of the bedroom a few minutes later, her hair puffed up, the purple Lanvin silk chemise put on inside-out.