Chapter 2 Hustle

Eleanor made her way across the zebra crossing, dashing past cars. Horns blared. A taxi swerved and missed her by inches. She could be hit. She didn’t care.

Her chest was too tight. The number 2.5 million was looping in her head like a siren.

She bumped into people on the sidewalk. “Perdón,” someone muttered. She didn’t answer. She just ran.

The building looked the same as it had that morning. Four stories of peeling paint and laundry lines. The neighbors were out on their balconies. They were probably still talking about the ambulance. About the girl who lived on the fourth floor with the sick mother.

Eleanor didn’t look at them. She took the stairs two at a time.

She barged into the apartment and slammed the door. The air inside was stale. It smelled like the toast she never ate and the medicine she couldn’t afford.

She went straight to her room.

She tore through the wardrobe. Sweaters, jeans, the one dress she wore to interviews. She yanked out the loose floorboard by the bed. Then the shoebox under the mattress. Then the coffee tin on top of the wardrobe.

Every hiding place she’d made over the last year.

As if she thought the little she had would do anything.

She dumped it all on the floor. 20 euro notes. 10s. Some coins. The cash from last week’s tips before her boss fired her. 430 euros. Maybe 500.

She stared at it. Her hands were shaking.

Tears blurred her vision. She tried to brush her hair back but her fingers got caught. She sniffed hard, trying to hold it in. Her eyes were already red and swollen from the hospital.

She sobbed once, sharp and ugly. The sound bounced off the bare walls. A tear dropped onto a 20 euro bill and bled the ink.

Two point five million.

And she had 500 euros and a pile of debt.

There was a knock on the door.

It was loud. Three hard raps.

It startled her so badly she knocked the coffee tin over.

She froze. She could’ve sworn she hadn’t shut the door properly when she came in.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand and walked to the door. Her heart was in her throat.

She opened it.

Two men. From last night.

The lean one with the sharp cheekbones. The bulk one with the gold chain and the breath that smelled like alcohol and cigarettes. The men her mother had borrowed from.

They were back. Twenty-four hours hadn’t even passed.

Eleanor’s stomach dropped. She reached behind her without looking and grabbed the first thing on the counter. A glass bottle. Half-full of water.

The bulk one flashed his teeth.

“Well, well. Look who’s home.”

The lean one, Thomas, laughed. “You gonna throw that at us, guapa?”

They thought it was funny. Her shaking. Her bottle. Her grief.

It wouldn’t take anything for her to hurl it at them. But she knew how that ended. Police. More debt. Her mother alone in the hospital.

“What is it?” she asked. Her voice came out rough. She sniffed in.

Thomas sighed and leaned against the doorframe like he owned it.

“We heard the news. Your poor mother was taken to the hospital.”

“No, Thomas. Cut to the chase,” the bulk one snapped. “When will we get our money, wench?!”

The word hit her like a slap.

She’d had enough for one day. For one year.

She turned and marched back into the apartment. She gathered the bills from the floor. All of them. The crumpled 20s, the wet one with her tear on it. She walked back to the door and threw the whole mess at their feet.

“Oi! You—“

“Take it and get lost!”

She slammed the door in their faces. The sound echoed down the hall.

Her hands were still shaking.

For the rest of the day she didn’t go back to the apartment. She went to the hospital.

She sat by her mother’s bed for hours. The room was quiet except for the beeping of the machines. Her mother looked smaller in the white sheets. Pale. Lips cracked. Dark circles carved under her eyes.

Eleanor held her hand. It was cold.

At one point, her mother’s fingers twitched.

Eleanor shot up.

“Mum?”

A sound. Barely a whisper.

“El… ean… or.”

“Mum! You’re awake.”

But her mother wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

“Don’t…”

“Don’t what, Mum?” Eleanor leaned in, close enough to smell the antiseptic on her skin.

“Don’t do anything.”

Eleanor frowned. “What do you mean?”

Her mother’s lips moved again. It took effort.

“Don’t bother… saving me.”

The words landed like a stone.

Eleanor opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She wanted to yell. To argue. To shake her and say ‘how can you say that’.

Instead she just sat there. Holding her mother’s cold hand. Trying not to cry again.

It got late. The hospital lights turned a dull yellow. Her stomach growled. She realized she hadn’t eaten since the coffee that morning.

She stepped out of the room. The hallway was empty. She filled a paper cup at the water dispenser and stood there, staring at it, thinking about nothing and everything.

“Lea!”

She flinched. Water sloshed over the rim.

“Jeez.”

“Calm down. It’s me.”

Eleanor turned.

It was Maya.

She would know that voice anywhere. High, a little teasing, always tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

Maya had been her friend since high school. Same neighborhood, same bad luck. Her parents were divorced. She lived alone in a studio in Lavapiés and did whatever it took to pay rent. She wasn’t the “good girl” type. She worked nights. Hostess. VIP rooms. She made more in one weekend than Eleanor made in a month.

“What are you doing here?” Eleanor asked.

“I heard,” Maya said simply. She nodded toward the room. “How is she?”

“Not good,” Eleanor said. She leaned against the wall. “All this time she’s had kidney failure. Not an ulcer. She lied to me.”

Maya went quiet. For once she didn’t have a joke.

“Shit, Lea.”

They ended up outside. The night air was cool. Madrid was still awake. Cars zoomed past on the main road. The lamp posts threw orange light across the sidewalk. They sat on a bench outside the hospital entrance.

Eleanor told her about the transplant. About the 2.5 million. About the men at the door.

Maya listened. She didn’t interrupt. When Eleanor finished, she picked at the label on her water bottle.

“I know how you can get the money,” Maya said finally.

Eleanor looked at her slowly.

“Maya…”

She already knew where this was going.