‘You rich gringos can pick and choose your misery. I never wanted to live this way.’

William-Adolphe Bouguereau “Yes. I’ll tell you now, Dad. If I could, I’d drink a whole bottle of that shit right this minute and be happy to do it.”

Dick smiled, knowingly. “Your mother said it was all her fault. You got it in your blood from her side of the family; whole line of drunks and opium smokers.”

“Like Uncle Al.”

“Like Uncle Al.”

“I used to think about him a lot when I was really low down. You know, your money and Sal is what saved me.”

“Was it?”

“She used to take care of me. One day I looked at her and told her I didn’t want to live this way anymore. You know what she said to me?”

“What?”

“She laughed and said, ‘You rich gringos can pick and choose your misery.’ She said, ‘I never wanted to live this way.’” He grinned at his father. “She’d just turned seventeen, wise beyond her years. She’s always been so much wiser than me, than anyone else I’ve ever known.”

“Out of the mouth of babes, eh, son?”

“Yep. And then I got my ass cleaned up and Sal and I took the money you sent me and we came here. No one knew what we were in San Francisco, at least not initially, and no one knew about Sal. She worked and worked and saved and took care of me to keep me on the straight and narrow, and, well, even though I’d drink a bottle of laudanum right now, I don’t do it.” He laughed cynically.

They sat a while and said nothing. Finally, Michael looked over at his father. He was an old man. He was old beyond his years and Michael knew that part of that age was his fault. He finally spoke, “I’m not so sure you’re the ass that you paint yourself to be.” The Mule Tamer: Chica's Ride.