Mahala (Ecuador)
Dylan and Brenda turned into Carrara 14 Oueste and stopped in front of an old-built structure, with blue curtains and white stone reflecting the tropical sun. Dylan opened the gate that snobbed under his push. Some children were playing in the yard with educator Isabel.
As soon as they saw him, they all ran to meet him shouting his name with a Latin accent that made Brenda smile. Isabel ran to hug him and then called Juan and Xavier who were in the kitchen.
It was a kind of mobile party.
Dylan made due presentations and Brenda watched him move safely inside that facility. It was a kind of orphanage, school, house, totally supported by Dylan, his foundation, and Mahala Municipality.
Brenda shook hands with all the children.
He relied on Xavier, Juan and Dylan who rose to the upper floors where the classes were. There were almost 90 boys in that institute.
The older ones were taking lessons.
Dylan decided it was better to wait and not interrupt anything while Brenda looked around. The floors in old brown majolica smelled clean. The walls were slightly blackened by time.
Isabel prepared a fresh lemonade and they all sheltered in the garden under a palm tree with a thick and fresh hat.
Dylan was updated on new entries, expenses to be faced, urgencies. He followed everything carefully, signed a couple of cards, greeted the older boys.
"Why here?" Brenda asked him in a moment of solitude between them.
"These people, this place, saved my life"
"What do you mean?"
"Immediately after leaving London," he paused and looked at her, "Immediately after you left me or got kicked out, as you like. I came here to do it all day, and not think about anything. I had decided that my life could easily slip away like this. One evening Xavier rounded me up in the middle of the street, half here and a half there, in that fine line between throwing myself away and the spirit of survival; he took me into his house, locked me in my room to allow me to resist withdrawal crises. When I left that room two weeks later, I realized that it was not a house, but a kind of hovel where Xavier and Isabel were trying to make do to get the children off the street. When I left that room I realized how infinitesimal, lucky and arrogant I am. Without spine. I thanked Xavier and Isabel and returned to Los Angeles. I thought coming home could help me overcome this grip of pain that has gripped me for years. But pain is like foam, like a regurgitation that rises and envelops you. And in Los Angeles it could only get worse. I kept doing it. Thinking of Antonia, my father, I thought I would resist, that it could fit me."
"You also thought well of denying me"
"Things are never as they seem. I wanted it to work with Kelly. What sense it would have brought you before her eyes."
Brenda had a look of obvious disapproval "What next?"
"And then I couldn't find peace. However, I felt the need to come back here, and to look for Xavier and Isabel who gave me what I never found anywhere else."
"What?"
"Joy. The joy of the little things you come looking for. Unconditional joy. This has become a special place for me. So I decided to help them. I bought this property. Hired educators. Made the agreement with the municipality. Welcomed children. Look around Brenda, see BMW? Do you see luxurious houses? Yet I have never seen people happier than these" he stopped for a moment to tidy up the ideas "don't get me wrong, I have in mind the luck we have and I have no judgment on who has other expectations in life, success, career... But being born from this or that part of the world is just a fortune, not a merit. I started kicking and becoming impatient in Los Angeles and came back here. And I need to go back here."
Xavier approached at that moment and the speech between Dylan and Brenda stopped abruptly. Brenda now had a few more elements. A few pieces of the puzzle.
"Come," Dylan beckoned him smiling.
"There's one thing I need to talk to you about urgently," Xavier whispered.
Dylan watched Brenda "you can talk quietly"
"We have received visits in recent weeks"
"Visits?"
"Don Pereira"
"And who would that be?"
"Someone who shouldn't be bothered"
Dylan frowned and sought answers from Xavier's intimidated gaze.
"He doesn't appreciate that we take the kids off the street. Let's take away his labor."
"Explain better."
"Dylan, these are dangerous people, much more than you think, and this is not Los Angeles."
"I still don't understand."
"He wants his boys back to work heroin and cocaine, and he wants them back as soon as possible"
"And when would that happen?"
"A couple of weeks ago. He came to offer us a contract, if we can say so. We give him back the guys in the Santa Cruz slum and he doesn't come looking for us anymore"
"We won't give anything back at all," Dylan said.
"We should, instead," Xavier said down, "or burn everything. And he can. He will be back in the next few days."
Dylan remained silent, then looked at Brenda towards an indefinite point "Let him come back".
Brenda didn't say a word, Dylan's worried look crushed her against a black wall of things she didn't know and imminent dangers.
The children's voice got closer. Brenda looked into the eyes those little boys, dark in complexion and with the blackest eyes she had ever seen. He saw curiosity for newcomers. The overwhelming affection for Dylan.
For a small moment he understood why that place had managed to save him more than anyone else had ever done.