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“Give me more credit,” I pinched the tip of my cigarette, lifting it to my nose. I just needed the scent in order to feel calm, inhaling it one last time before tucking it into the front pocket of my jacket. “I need a break soon.”
“What, too much walking?”
“Too much talking,” I answered, following Mrs. Patricia Blair, the director of finance services at Belmont Hills.
“We’ve already met our fourth quarter goals, thanks to you, Mr. Rivers.” She announced in the middle of her tour, guiding us along lush green fields and graveled stone paths. She pointed to two large oak trees; their bases affixed with two new benches. “We just added those with some of the funds.”
“Those are pretty!” Ivanna chimed in, but I just stared, contemplative to the sereneness that provided little reassurance to how I felt. Nervous.
It was wrong for me to be here—amanat a sanctuary for women to feel safe. I tipped my Dodgers cap down, as if that and my dark aviators would somehow make me, the tall, broad man, less menacing.
“How else have the funds been applied?” I interrupted.
“We’re adding a new meditation pond in the southeast corner of the complex, additional trees for ambiance—”
“How about for guests?” I clarified.
“The patients?”
“The women. The reason this place exists.” I looked around the tunneled path of maple trees and carefully manicured lawns. Everything was shadowed but accented with perfect patches of sunlight. Sure, it was all so peaceful, but I knew that wasn’t enough to help. “My assistant provided me with the statistics sheet of your admits. It feels a little low, based on the demand.”
“We try to accommodate as many people as we can.”
“As many rich people,” I corrected, identifying the luxury escape this place portrayed.
“Sure, costs are high. I’ll be the first to admit that. We’re a non-profit organization, but our therapy involves the complete immersion of aparticularenvironment.”
“That’s nice. But my donations are for those who cannot afford this place. I want it to be more accessible to them.”
“We want that, too,” Mrs. Blair agreed nervously, “and believe me, your funds are in use for those patients now.”
“Good, because Belmont Hills isn’t the only benefactor of my charity, but it certainly has my attention. I think we can agree that access to help isn’t a privilege, but a human right. Can’t we, Mrs. Blair?” I asked, making my stance clear that landscape was the least of my priorities. She smiled at me, its impression weakened by my otherwise stern voice. I didn’t mean to sound so curt, attempting to hide my typical frown.
“Of course, Mr. Rivers. Our goal for the coming year involves the expansion of our grounds. That includes increased housing and caretakers. We hope to meet that financial goal and eliminate any costs for our guests. We’re serious about this, and I hope you can trust me.” She nodded firmly, treating me with all the respective assurances of a board member. I didn’t need that, I just needed to know my contributions would make a direct impact.
“Happy to hear,” I answered, looking back at the grounds.
Ivanna hung back as Mrs. Blair continued her lecture on the therapeutic qualities that nature provided. “You could be a little more kind,” she complained.
“I am. I just need a cigarette.”
“I figured you’d appreciate this visit. I know how much charity matters to you.Thisespecially.” She murmured as if this was the context of our visit. It wasn’t, and being in New York was less about helping and more about entertaining an annoyance.
“That’s not why we’re here,” I groaned.
“No. But I knew it would entice you to come out. The producer has been very adamant about this project.”
“I have enough projects.”
“The agave fields?” she asked in a way as if I were silly for even alluding to it. “You’re an actor, Alejandro. Let’s get you acting.”
“I’m whatever I need to be.”
Ivanna knew very little about why I did the things I did, but she was intuitive enough to know that I was almost too focused on much needed distractions. Maybe she was concerned, maybe she knew that I was slowly escaping away into something that took a toll on my body, considering the fields weren’t as forgiving as the comforts of a multi-million-dollar movie set.
“You spend too much time in Jalisco. Your knuckles are ruined from the field work, I can’t imagine the rest of you.”
“I’m used to it. It’s what I enjoy,” I reminded her, reminiscing on the only thing that brought me pleasure outside of cherry-flavored cigarettes. In the fields I was too burdened with labor to think about how awful it felt to have accomplished nothing—at least nothing of importance to me. I didn’t want to buy park benches or fountains. I wanted to help, to right the wrongs I couldn’t as a child, and for whatever reason, that feeling never went away. Ivanna could never know that though, she could never know about me or my past; about my mother, my brother; about Miguel. I rubbed the back of my neck, my boots thumping loudly along the graveled path.
