⚠️ WARNING ⚠️
📍 The following chapter may contain some descriptions
and commentary slightly out of context.
🏙️ The story takes place in Boston, Massachusetts,
during the 1960s, with thorough research behind it.
📚 Remember that everything narrated here is fiction,
though based on historical facts.
🕰️📖 Historical context is provided for narrative purposes.
👀 Reader discretion is advised.
📝 AUTHOR'S NOTE 📝
😮💨 Chapter 59 was tough.
💭 I have to admit I thought about rushing through it,
but I realized it was too heavy and you need something
lighter to ease back into the story slowly.
⏳ So I adjusted the chronology a bit.
🧩✔️ No worries, the timeline still works the same way;
I just thought it would be better to introduce this
character earlier, giving you a little breather.
👀 And if you see it written this way… yes, that's
exactly what you think.
🤐🚫 So please, I don't want any odd comments.
💥 Finally, it was time to include this kind of
character 🩷💜💙. They're one of my favorites; I still
have drawings of them from 2015. ✏️📁
✨📖 I hope you enjoy the chapter. 💫
____________________________________________________
Boston, Massachusetts, July 3, 1964
The restaurant was closing. The owner was gathering her
things to return to her apartment, as she did every day.
Before leaving, she handed the keys to María and gave
her final instructions.
"María, please make sure the dishes are put away.
Tomorrow, I want these windows cleaned and properly
arranged, and the..."
"Clean them. I know you couldn't today; it's been busy.
Is that okay? Did you hear me, girl?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"María, come here for a moment before your next shift.
This isn't the first time I've heard complaints about how
you're serving customers. People come here expecting
clear and straightforward service. And I'll tell you like it is:
many don't understand you when you speak. You need to
improve your English. Even my six-year-old grandson
makes himself understood better than you do."
"When a customer seems confused or uncomfortable, pass
the table to Sara. She knows how to handle the kind
of patrons we get here. This is an American business,
and clients expect to feel comfortable. I don't want to hear
any more comments. If this keeps happening, I'll have to
think about whether this place is right for you. Are we clear?"
María nodded silently.
"I hired you knowing your situation," the woman continued.
"I know you need the job, and I understand that. But I also
have to take care of my business. So I ask that you be more
careful next time. Sometimes it's better to be condescending
when necessary."
She put away her purse and headed to the door.
"Alright, María, I'm leaving now. Close the shop, please.
And come tomorrow in good spirits. I want to see a
happier face."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Let's do what we can to make this work."
The woman left. María followed every instruction: she
organized the last remaining items and closed up carefully.
It was nine o'clock at night. The café was daytime-oriented,
and by that hour, the street was starting to empty. Still,
María felt nervous. What came next was harder than any
workday she had endured.
Suddenly, it started to rain. It was spring, and showers
weren't common. María stayed under the entrance roof
to avoid getting soaked. She hadn't brought an umbrella.
While she waited, her mind filled with memories. There was a
time when everything was simpler, when there was always
a home to return to.
Her calm was interrupted when she saw, in the distance,
a figure running through the rain.
"Mari! Mari!"
It was Dorothy.
She approached, hand raised, umbrella held high, full of
her usual enthusiasm. María watched her come, and as
always, the same thought returned.
"Why does her presence always make me feel bad?"
"Why does she make me feel guilty?"
"She looks so beautiful…"
"It always happens."
"Our friendship has always been complicated."
"My God!" said Dorothy as she arrived. "Good thing
you didn't go to the station. It's pouring. See? Waiting
was worth it. If you had left earlier, you'd be soaked.
Here."
She handed her an umbrella. She knew María often
forgot hers. Without waiting for a reply, she fell into step
beside her, and they started walking toward the station.
"Don't worry," she continued, adjusting her hair. "It's
nothing formal. They're just friends from campus. Some
are already working, others doing internships. It's just a
gathering to see each other before the semester starts."
María listened, though she barely kept up with her
words and the sound of the rain.
"I want to introduce you to a few," Dorothy added.
"One of the guys lives in the house we'll go to. The idea
is to get to know each other better before graduation.
We're almost done… isn't that incredible?"
She paused briefly and looked at her seriously.
"But I need you not to be so tense, okay? Meeting people
could help you. I don't say it for them. I say it for you.
I want you to have more opportunities. I don't want you
stuck waiting tables your whole life, Mari."
María barely listened. The thought of entering a house
full of law students made her uneasy.
"Ah… I'm sorry," she murmured. "Yes, I heard you. Well…
not completely. I'm a little nervous. It's my first time.
You're always studying, and we hardly have time to be
together. And when you're not around…"
Her voice trailed off.
Dorothy watched her closely. She glanced around. The
street was nearly empty. The rain fell softly. In the
distance, the train was beginning to approach.
Without saying a word, she adjusted the umbrella with one
hand. With the other, she gently cupped María's face.
She seized the moment. She leaned in and pressed her lips
to hers. The wind eased the doubts. It was brief, but for
María, it felt like a lifetime.
For a moment, all worries disappeared. She realized that
sometimes, thinking too much only made things harder.
Dorothy looked into her eyes.
"Listen," Dorothy said softly. "You don't have to be
nervous, okay?"
She paused before continuing.
"A professor of mine used to say that life isn't made for
us to control. It's made for us to learn to move through it,
with judgment and without fear."
She met her gaze with steady calm.
"We can't always know what will happen. But we can decide
how to face it."
Her voice softened.
"So… how about letting someone who truly cares about you
accompany you to a unique opportunity?"
María didn't think long.
"Okay."
Dorothy raised her hand naturally and hailed a taxi to
take them to her friend Javier's house.
During the ride, María thought again about something she
had realized a long time ago: the distance between their
lives.
Dorothy was studying Law at Boston University. She had
earned a full scholarship thanks to her grades, well above
average.
In Texas, she had grown up in a modest neighborhood, far
from private schools and privileges. She studied at night,
worked whenever she could, and still always stood out among
her peers.
María's and Dorothy's homes were on nearby streets.
They had known each other since elementary school. They
had grown up together, along the same streets and through
the same warm afternoons.
Perhaps that was why Dorothy never looked at her with
distance. She knew how hard it was to move forward when
everything around seemed to push you back to the same place.
And yet, now their worlds were different. In the so-called
land of opportunity, María had learned something few
spoke aloud: opportunities existed… but they weren't the
same for everyone.
In the end, this was still a white country.
"Look, we're here," Dorothy said, pulling her out of her
thoughts.
María looked out the window.
"So fast? That can't be…"
Before getting out of the car, Dorothy said:
"María, just have as much fun as you can… and eat all
the brownies you want, silly. But the cookies are mine."
María got out with Dorothy, uneasy. She had been in
Boston for almost a year and a half and had never
visited someone else's home, much less as a courtesy.
The house was quiet and welcoming. Entering it felt like
stepping into a typical Massachusetts home: light wood,
well-kept furniture, porcelain dishes, and a box full of
vinyl records.
From the living room, one of the guys called out:
"Hey, check this out! I bought it with what I earned last
week. And take care of it, okay? Then give it back to me.
This is mine."
He pulled out a large album and held it up proudly.
The Beatles' Second Album.
"Seriously, you bought it?" asked another. "How much did
it cost you?"
"Does it have anything special? A signature or something?"
The young man hesitated for a moment. His enthusiasm
dropped slightly.
"Well… actually, it's not for me."
"What do you mean, not for you?"
He shrugged.
"We don't have a record player at home right now. The
one we had broke… my little brother knocked it over by
accident. He was three. He also broke a porcelain figure
of my grandmother. My mom nearly fainted."
Some laughed.
"So I brought it to listen to it here," he added. "But seriously,
take care of it."
A moment later, the needle touched the vinyl. The sound
filled the room.
I Want To Hold Your Hand.
When Dorothy and María entered, the atmosphere
had already changed. María felt she wasn't entering
an unfamiliar place, but a regular home, ordinary to them.
Still, it took her some time to get used to it.
"Dorothy! I can't believe it. You look amazing."
"Hi, Eric," she replied with a smile. "Look, I want to
introduce you to a childhood friend. This is María."
Eric turned his gaze to her for the first time.
"María?" he repeated. "Are you… foreign?"
"Ah… yes. And I'm sorry I didn't come more dressed up."
Eric shook his head casually.
"Don't worry. We're just among classmates. No one here is
trying to impress anyone."
Then he turned back to Dorothy, half-smiling.
"Although, of course… you don't need to dress up. You've
always been the prettiest girl on campus."
"It's not a big deal," said Dorothy.
"You know that as well as I do," he replied confidently.
"I think so," María added softly.
Eric smiled.
Roll Over Beethoven began blasting from the record player.
At first, no one paid much attention. Some kept talking,
others stayed seated on the couches or leaned against the walls.
But little by little, the rhythm took over. Someone moved a
coffee table aside. Another nudged a chair with a foot.
In a room meant for relaxing, not dancing, the space was tight
but enough.
Amid shy laughter and impromptu comments, some began to
move to the beat. It wasn't a formal dance; just simple steps,
swaying, awkward spins, and close contact.
Others preferred to watch, smiling from the couches, glasses
in hand, the music filling the room.
It wasn't exactly a party.
After days of classes, endless reading, and constant pressure,
this felt like a breather: a simple way to loosen up, release
tension, and forget, even for a few minutes, how demanding
their routine could be.
Eric motioned them in with a wide gesture.
"Well, make yourselves at home. Take whatever you want,
really. Let's liven this up a bit. The idea is to talk, relax…
and forget about campus for a while."
A few minutes later, he raised a wine glass to get attention.
"Are we all here? Good."
He tapped the rim of the glass gently with a spoon.
"Thanks for coming. Really. I'm glad to see you here. Only
Jonathan is missing; he's in England and couldn't
escape this time. But still… it's good that we can get together."
He looked around, recognizing the faces.
"Some are already starting to work," he said, "like James,
and that's a big step. I guess we all feel it: we're entering
another stage."
He paused briefly.
"And yes… the world out there is a bit unsettled. Vietnam,
the news, all that. But I think, if we're honest about what
we do… if we work hard and try to do things right… we can
succeed."
He shrugged with a half-smile.
"I don't know if we're going to change the world. But at least
we can build something worthwhile. Something that makes
our families proud… and, hopefully, do something good for
someone else."
He raised his glass.
"For what's to come. And for tonight."
"Cheers!" everyone responded.
Applause filled the room. María clapped too, though still
somewhat shyly. Dorothy gave her a calm look, as if
reassuring her that everything was fine.
Eric continued:
"Ah, by the way. We have a guest. Dorothy wrote me a
few weeks ago; she wanted to bring a childhood friend. So…
well, everyone, this is María."
Some smiled; others clapped curiously, with that polite but
slightly distant kindness of those newly introduced.
Eric motioned to a seat.
"And tell us, María… is your family from abroad? Your
name sounds… Latino."
María folded her hands neatly.
"Ah… yes. I'm Mexican."
There was a brief silence. Several glances crossed the room,
more curious than uncomfortable.
"From Mexico?" asked a girl. "From Cancún? They say it's
beautiful."
"No," María replied with a small smile. "I'm from
Monterrey."
"Monterrey?" Eric repeated. "I'm not sure I can place
it. Honestly, I only know Mexico from what you see on
vacation."
Some laughed softly.
"It's in the north," explained María, "near the border with
Texas. My family moved there when I was a child. We
were looking for a better life."
"That must have been a big change," another girl said, her
tone understanding. "How brave of you."
"And how did you end up in Boston?" asked Eric.
María hesitated. She searched for words, but silence
began to stretch.
Before it got awkward, Dorothy intervened:
"She's much better off here than in Texas."
"Oh… right," said Eric, nodding immediately. "Well, I'm
glad you're here. Boston can be tough at first, but it's a
good place to get ahead."
"Thank you," María replied. "It's a bit of a long story. I'd
rather not go into details."
"Of course, of course. You don't have to explain anything."
Eric smiled and gave a light clap, as if to ease the mood.
"Well, changing the subject a bit… now that several of us
are starting to move into the professional world, I was
thinking of proposing something."
He gestured broadly, looking at everyone present.
"Some are already doing internships, others are sending
applications, and several of us are trying to get into the Law
Review or work on research with a professor. I thought we
might organize ourselves and support each other."
He shrugged.
"Sharing information, recommendations, contacts… even working
together on a research project or an article. All of that
counts, and it can open doors later."
He raised his glass slightly.
"So I'd like to know who would be interested. It never hurts
to help each other out."
As Eric continued speaking, the conversation in the room
began to split into several groups.
Some were talking about the Vietnam War. Others discussed
job opportunities on the horizon. In a nearby group, two
students debated enthusiastically about the real-world
application of the Civil Rights Act.
"One thing is that the law exists," one said, "but another is
that African Americans can actually rent a house wherever
they want."
"Exactly," another replied. "Legally, there's no segregation,
but in practice, banks and real estate agencies still turn them
down. The law doesn't really protect them."
In other corners, they talked about family contacts, law
offices, internships, and letters of recommendation.
María watched silently. Gradually, the comments blended
with the murmur of the room, and time seemed to dissolve.
Every voice, every gesture, seemed to lose importance as her
mind drifted, as if floating outside that world.
Suddenly, the place felt like unfamiliar territory. They were
young, yes. But they were also Boston University students,
people who spoke confidently about a world she barely
understood.
She held her glass without knowing what to say.
"Oh my God… how awkward"
"What should I say? I don't even understand half of what
they're talking about"
"These people know politics, law, everything… I just seem
like a fool here"
Calm down. Don't think like that. Just breathe…
"María… María."
She looked up.
"Yes?"
"Just a question," Eric said. "Do you work?"
"Ah… yes. I do work. Why do you ask?"
Eric looked at her with a faint smile.
"Weren't you listening?"
María lowered her gaze slightly.
"Sorry… I'm a bit distracted. Maybe it's the alcohol."
"Don't worry," Eric replied naturally. "Sorry, I didn't
mean to make you uncomfortable."
He took a breath, as if gathering his thoughts before
continuing.
"Actually," Eric said, "Dorothy mentioned something to
me."
María looked at him, not understanding.
"She told me that, even if you haven't finished high school,
there are other ways to get a better job… with a bit of
guidance. And I thought maybe I could help you with that."
Several eyes turned toward her.
María stiffened.
"What? No… Dorothy… what did I tell you not to say?"
"Sorry," Eric said quickly. "Don't take it the wrong way.
Maybe I'm not explaining it well."
"If you're thinking that anyone here has prejudice against
Mexicans… you're wrong."
"What?" she asked, confused.
"Look, what I mean is that it would be good for you to
connect with people who've already had some
opportunities… who know how to navigate things."
"I don't want you to feel bad, really. But here, we've all had
some advantage. We know how these things work."
"Dorothy comes from Texas, James from Iowa… and
others have European families. Most of us weren't even born in
Boston. Not that it matters, but… well, sometimes it
helps to know someone who already knows how to move."
"That's why I thought I might be able to help you a bit.
My mother has a law bookstore. Maybe you could work there,
something simple, receptionist… You'd be close to the
university, close to Dorothy, and you could start building
something better."
"Only if you want, of course. I'm just trying to help."
"It's just… I don't know anything about books. Not law,
nothing like that," María said nervously.
"Don't worry," Eric said. "Dorothy had already told me
about you in her letters. She cares a lot about you. I respect
that. Besides… helping one person is easier than trying to
help hundreds or thousands, don't you think?"
Some of those present laughed softly.
María smiled out of politeness, though she felt uneasy
inside. The offer felt like it fell from the sky, but it also
made her feel exposed.
Eric looked at Dorothy.
"Dorothy is an extraordinary woman. And, if I may say so,
more than one person on campus admires her. You know that."
There was a closeness between them that wasn't entirely official,
but not exactly a secret either. Eric felt something for
Dorothy, and part of that explained why he was so willing
to help María.
Eric took out a piece of paper and extended it toward
María.
"Here. This is my number. My mother is amazing. I'm sure
she could train you. The job isn't complicated. Just learn the
book codes, organize orders… things like that."
María took the paper carefully.
"It would be a quieter job," he added, "and you'd have time
for other things."
Hours later, after conversations, music, and several glasses,
María approached again.
"Excuse me… I… I have to go. I have to get up early
tomorrow. I need to open the store."
"Of course," Eric said. "I understand."
Dorothy stood up immediately.
"I'll walk her back to her apartment. I'll be right back."
"That's fine," several responded. "Don't worry."
As soon as Dorothy stepped out the door with María, still
in a bit of a hurry, Eric stayed behind, watching them
leave.
No sooner had they disappeared than the murmurs began in the
room.
"Did you see her? She's very pretty."
"Yeah… even though she's from Mexico."
"Well, most of the people I've seen from there,
especially in California, tend to be… chubby, round-faced."
"And the fact that she dared to come all the way here…
poor thing. She probably doesn't even have a stable home."
"What surprises me is something else," someone added.
"María came all the way from Texas to Massachusetts.
How did she do it? Really by herself?"
"It must have been Dorothy who helped her, surely.
I mean, I can't imagine someone like her making it here alone."
"And besides, where would her parents be?" another asked.
"Surely they didn't even know she came… or maybe she
doesn't have family who could take care of her."
"Yeah," someone else added. "People like her… you imagine
she got this far because no one else could."
Eric intervened, shrugging and smiling a little awkwardly.
"Yeah, I guess… The truth is, we don't know much about
her situation. Dorothy asked me not to ask too many
questions."
He paused briefly, looking around.
"They've been friends for years. Better not to pry too much."
The conversation changed topics, but curiosity, ignorance,
and everyone's clumsiness lingered in the air, leaving
María feeling even smaller and more exposed before them.