Debt's Dilemma: A House of Secrets

I return to the real estate agency, hand Rúbia's car keys back, and then walk towards Suarez's office. I open the door, and he is on the phone, chatting animatedly. I place my hands on his desk and speak up:

"Pass this client to the other girls. I can't attend to him."

"Dália, I told you, he specifically asked for you," Suarez says, putting the phone on the receiver. "So, you will be the one attending to him."

"I don't care, Suarez. I won't do it."

"Listen, let me explain it more clearly. This client gave me 20 million euros in advance so that you could attend to him and choose the ideal house for him. So that's what you're going to do."

"Well, then, return the money to him and tell him I have too many clients..."

"That's not an option. I've already used a good portion of the money to pay off my debts and keep your job secure. So, I can't give back 20 million. Therefore, I'm asking you to do your part. Besides, it's your job, whoever the client is..."

"Then, you can fire me, or rather, I quit!" I blurt out. I know at the moment I don't have that option, but I say it to make Suarez understand that what I'm asking is serious.

"I'm not going to fire you... And you won't want to quit," Suarez replies calmly.

"I quit," I repeat, nervously. "I'm resigning."

"Think about it carefully, Dália," Suarez requests, crossing his arms. "If you resign, I will transfer this 20-million-euro debt to you."

"How? You can't do that."

"Didn't you read your contract with the real estate agency? Clause nine clearly states: You can leave as long as you have successfully closed all deals and haven't caused any losses to the agency. If you cause any losses, you will be responsible for them. This is the case. So, either you do what I'm asking, or I will sue you to recover my 20 million. Is that clear now?" Suarez asks, getting closer to me. "I don't know what this client did to you, but I hope it wasn't anything criminal. Was it something criminal?"

"No..." I whisper. "He's just one of the biggest mistakes of my life."

"So, it's just an affair," Suarez concludes with a mischievous smile. "An unresolved case... Either way, it shouldn't affect the real estate agency or cost you 20 million. My advice to you is to go home, take a shower, and rethink your resignation. You're not in a position to quit and bear a 20-million-euro burden."

"You don't know that..." I murmur.

"Actually, I do know," Suarez affirms, picking up his stress ball from the desk and tossing it from one hand to the other. "The loft's bank called here looking for you. They revealed that you have three overdue installments... They want to initiate a foreclosure process to take the loft from you. The message is on your desk, by the way. So, Dália, go home and think carefully about what you want to do. I'll see you tomorrow for a final conversation."

***

I sit on the subway still disoriented by everything that happened in such a short time. I rest my head against the window, crying and replaying X and Suarez's words in my mind. The truth is, I'm completely trapped by X... If I accept, I know that the twenty million euros will cost me much more than it already does. If I quit, I'll leave with a twenty-million-euro debt that will cost me much more than it already does. Either choice will lead me to the conclusion that I'll likely lose my family. My husband's face comes to my mind... I can't believe what Suarez said because my husband has always been so careful with everything, and all our cutbacks were precisely to pay off our debts. So a question arises, haunting me: What else is Carlos hiding? What else are we not really paying for? Where is the money going?

***

I enter the house and find my children in the living room, all dressed up. I kiss each of them and then look at Juan, asking:

"Where's Papi?" He smiles but doesn't say anything, as he always does when I use the word 'papi.' So I rephrase the question. "Where's Carlito?"

"In the bedroom," Juan replies, giving me a big smile.

"What is he doing in the bedroom?" I ask my son.

"Getting ready, mama," says Juan, raising his arms.

"Thank you. I'll go talk to him, and you stay here taking care of your little sister, okay?"

"Okay, mama."

I get up from the floor and walk towards my bedroom, where I find my husband finishing buttoning up his white dress shirt, matching his black dress pants. He looks at me through the mirror and then turns with his handsome smile.

"My beautiful wife is here."

He approaches happily, but I don't change my expression, and I don't think he even noticed, as he tries to steal a kiss, but I avoid his lips. Carlos steps back, not understanding what was happening:

"Is everything okay?"

"No..." I begin, staring at my husband with a stern expression. "Why on earth did the bank contact my workplace about three overdue installments for the loft?"

"What? The bank called you? What time?" Carlos asks, concerned.

"It doesn't matter," I reply and divert the subject.

I prefer to avoid it because if we continued down that path, I would be obliged to tell him that my boss answered the call because I was with a client, and Carlos would ask who it was, and if it didn't work out, I'd have to explain the reasons for not closing the deal... I don't want to continue, and I'm not sure if I can lie even more to Carlos at that moment.

"It matters to me," my husband says, waking me from my thoughts.

"What matters to me is knowing how you didn't pay the loft when we're cutting back on everything just to make it happen."

"Yes, but it's not enough," Carlos replies, raising his arms in surrender.

"And when were you going to tell me?" I ask, irritated with his response.

"I was going to sell the car and pay off everything that's overdue," Carlos answers.

"Everything that's overdue? What does that mean? Do we have more unpaid things?" I ask, shocked.

"Dália, it's better if we end it here," Carlos requests. "We have a dinner to attend, remember? Your parent's wedding anniversary dinner, forgot? A dinner your father insisted on celebrating this year... Something he's never done before." He continues speaking from inside the bathroom. "What will he think?"

"He will think that his daughter is so broke that she can't even afford to put gas in her car, let alone pay for her own home," I reply, standing in the bathroom doorway. "What else are we not paying?"

"Dália, I will clarify everything you want to know after we come back from the dinner, okay? For now, please, get ready, or we'll hear a lot from your father, and I know you don't want him to find out our real situation."

"I hope you'll tell me our real situation when we come back, or you can forget this room exists," I conclude.