My Dark Obsession

Approaching fifty, deep in the closet behind the coats, I was looking to reinvent myself. I had been a bank loan officer and quit, walked out. I had savings, but no plan. Miguel came by to see if I wanted another beer. He put his hand on my shoulder. He brought me another beer. We talked, the place was empty, he told me about his dream, to own a house. He had fifteen thousand, a fortune saved waiting tables.

Miguel was smooth as far as Mexicans go, he wanted it. I wanted it. My dark obsession.

I talked with him, fifteen grand couldn't buy a house. A lot maybe, half a lot. I then became a developer, his fifteen, my fifteen, buy the lot. Construction loan secured by the lot, build for a starter couple, three floors. First floor garage, laundry, small office workspace, living on the second floor, two bedrooms on the third.

We built it for a hundred and ten construction cost, sold it for two forty. Fifteen became forty five, tripled Miguel's money, before taxes. Miguel, my dark horse friend from El Chaparro. Do it again, and again. In two years Miguel had seventy, after tax. He found a place in his neighborhood. Two bedroom, one bath, frame house. He bought it for seventy, including the old washer dryer.

it's been twenty years now, that property's worth two forty. A push here, a g*ft there, the place is nice, updated, big tv. I'm pushing seventy, Miguel puts his hand on my shoulder. My dark horse friend, my dark obsession.