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“Please, Dez, I'll pay! I just need one more week,” I beg as the man leans a ladder against the post next to my house.
I had no other option after being chased away by two different women in less than 24 hours. It turns out that Andressa was not happy to learn that I had lost my work uniform and refused to pay for the cleaning that made me cross the city with barely any clothes on.
The manager of the cleaning company I was working for practically kicked me out of the office yesterday afternoon, with one hand in front of me and the other behind, saying that if I wanted to be able to do any other cleaning for them, I should leave while she still didn't hate me and come back on a day when I hadn't irritated her deeply.
“You said that last week, Gabi.”
“I know! I know!” I extend my hands in front of my body, placing myself between him and the wooden steps. “I had the money, Dez, I did, but something unexpected happened and my sister is coming home today, we can't be without energy. You know that Raquel is in fragile health, please, Dez! Please! Just one more week!”
“I only follow orders, Gabi. You didn't pay, I have to cut it! You know how it is,” he denies it and crosses his arms in front of him.
The man with reddish skin and pronounced forehead looks at me without a hint of compassion for my situation. I run my hands through my hair, resisting the urge to pull it until it hurts.
“Anything, Dez. Please! I’ll do anything!” I negotiate and place my hands on my hips without moving, afraid that if I give him any space, Dez will simply climb the pole and cut my energy which is already illegally connected. “I can't run out of energy, I can't! Whatever you want! Do you need someone to clean your house? I clean! Ironing? Count on me! I'll cook for you, I'll take your dog for a walk, I'll handle any job, just, please, give me one more week.”
Dez is an old acquaintance of my excuses and desperate requests, contrary to what one would imagine, a shack on the side of the railway line is not tax-free housing. At least, not the ones that matter. There is no running water or sewage, and the energy is stolen from the pole, but even so, there are people who charge for each of these services. And, if an armed person tells you that you need to pay for something, you pay. Organized crime in Rio de Janeiro is, in fact, much more organized than politics.
We have lived here for seven years and for seven years the city council has promised to remove us. The removal never came, but the emissaries of the traffickers who took the area as their own were never late on the tax collection days.
I’d lived on Morro da Estação, one of the manyfavelasin Rio de Janeiro, from my first days of life until we were expelled from there after my father got into trouble with a drug dealer. My mother had only passed away a year before, the same amount oftime Raquel had been alive. We lost her when my younger sister was born.
I was, at that time, the age that Raquel is today, and I had already become responsible for another human being, three others, if we take into account that Fernanda, although only a year younger than me, was never really capable of taking care of herself. Now, at seventeen she still isn't.
And my father, even though he hadn't reached his current state of prostration, was already drinking without caring about the existence of his three underage daughters, who didn't ask to be born.
“Anything?” Dez questions, looking me up and down with an expression that’s very easy to understand.
“Except that! Not that!” I hasten to warn him, and he clicks his tongue, feigning disappointment.
“A shame, Gabi, I would pay your fee. In fact, I would pay whatever you wanted, I would give you the life of a queen.” I swallow my laugh, because I can't offend him, even though the man wearing faded jeans and a faded t-shirt in front of me deserves some offense.
I may not remember much of what I studied in school about monarchies, but I'm pretty sure Dez couldn't give me the life of a queen in a million years.
“You're married, Dez.”
“And why is this important?”
“Dez, we're losing focus here.”
“No, Gabi. You're the one wasting time. There's no deal, unfortunately, I'm going to have to cut off your electricity.”
“Dez...” I start, but he interrupts me.
“And you know you can't turn it back on.” Lowers his voice to a whispered, friendly warning. “It's better for your sister to be without electricity than without a roof,” he whispers, and I know exactly what he's talking about.
The last time someone decided to try to cheat the fee system, they got kicked out of here beaten, a few missing teeth, and nothing but the clothes on their backs.
“There's no way there's nothing I can do, for God's sake! Anything! Anything!” I repeat like a parrot, but this time I'm not talking to Dez.
It's with God, with the universe, with the planet, with any entity that is willing to listen to an eighteen-year-old girl exhausted from hearing no. Anyone, I’ll accept anyone at this point. Dez, however, is the only one who hears my almost shouted words. He looks away for a few seconds before letting out a deep exhale as his dark eyes return to mine, the expression on his face announcing that whatever he's about to suggest is going to turn my stomach.
“There's one thing,” he admits, and I swallow hard. “It's not for me, it's for the bosses. They are recruiting people, women, for a scheme.”
The word bosses should be enough to make me turn my back on Dez and his suggestion, but desperate situations call for desperate measures. And even that phase I've already passed.
I have a maximum of twelve hours until I need to pick Raquel up from the hospital and no perspective on how to ensure our house continues to have electricity. I don't even have a single dime to buy the food or medication my sister needs. Nothing, I have nothing! What could I still lose?
“Scheme?” I ask, against all my self-preservation instincts.
