Chapter 1
Once upon a time, there was my old lady—my old lady with gray hair and a tiny smile, with melancholic eyes and a peaceful way of walking; my old lady who took the simplest roads, had humble dreams, my old lady, brought up right and proper. That was my old lady.
The first time I saw her, I was struck dumb. She wore an old knitted cardigan, most likely handmade. She stood proud in a skirt that went past her knees and a pair of comfortable espadrilles. She was elegantly arguing over the sale price of the cattle she had brought with her:
“This tight-fisted rascal trying to tell me the value of my cows? I raised them myself,” she said, pointing at herself. “You stuck-up city man, don’t come telling me what two plus two is—I know what it is.” The way she said “I know” made you believe she truly did.
At the time, she was about fourteen. I had just turned fifteen. I’d never taken much interest in any girl—not until I saw her. Her presence completely consumed me. Fortunately for me, it was a small town, and finding out about her was easy. A couple of questions here and there, and I already knew absolutely everything: her likes, hobbies, family, routines, where she studied, what she wanted to be when she grew up, and what kind of man she was into.
“None.”
“What?” I asked, holding my breath.
“None,” the skinny classmate said again with a shrug. “Nobody knows nothin’ ’bout that. If you ask her, she always says she ain’t interested. She just wants to study. Says she wants to get outta here, that this place is a hole, and she’d never stay with a man from here who won’t let her fly.”
My jaw dropped right there. If that was true, my chances were already sinkin’. Then I looked at the scrawny kid.
“How d’you know all that?”
“Oh, she’s friends with my sister. They come over in the afternoons to do homework. They talk a lot—and real loud.”
That skinny kid was now my best shot.
“Alright then. From now on, I’m your tutor. See you tomorrow—I’ll pick you up at school. And don’t forget the pay.”
“Pay?” was all he managed to say before I walked off.
Now I had a way in. I had to plan my steps carefully. I had no clue what kind of men she liked, but I did know what kind of things she was into. Maybe if I tried, I could find somethin’ we could share. I did some digging—she wanted to be a big-time businesswoman, an entrepreneur. Of what? She didn’t even know. So I got myself a bunch of books on entrepreneurship from the town library. Read through ’em hard that night. Most of ’em were full of fancy talk that didn’t mean squat for folks like me—folks who weren’t born lucky, folks who didn’t get to sleep in a soft bed till noon.
I had to get up at three in the mornin’, tend the cows, clean the stables, herd the cattle, gather eggs, haul water from the river, and make breakfast. Me? I wasn’t like those high-society scholars with money and fine names. I couldn’t apply the fancy, useless tricks those weird books went on about. Sure, there were a few things that made sense—manage your time better, save and invest, work smarter not harder—but they were easier said than done.
