The clear liquid in the syringe easily found its way into the vein in my upper arm. The nurse who I had paid 2000 pesos following my instructions calmly and without asking any questions as she placed the needle with surgeon like precision.
Various personal questions running through my mind always ended up receiving the same simple answer: You have to do this for your family.
With repetition the words had turned into a personal mantra, my excuse. No, my reason.
Poverty, drugs and sex trade, gang killings, and no future. My family deserved something better.
A piece of cotton-wool and medical tape was all that was needed to cover up the mark of my treason, not only to my companions, but also myself. I knew this very well.
Putting back on my sweater and New York Yankees baseball cap I left the white square clinic and stepped out into the cold morning. I had heard stories how people in Europe ride their bicycles in 10 degree weather, complete madness. The cold sweat on my back feeling even colder as I thought about it.
Hopefully I would be able to get some sleep by the time I got back to my motel. With my newly acquired powers I probably didn’t even need the rest, but I still wanted to be in the best possible condition for today’s race the final stage in la Vuelta de la Juventud. A 21km long individual time trial which would decide who was the best youngster in the Dominican Republic. And in the process also deciding who was to receive a professional contract with the country its biggest cycling team.
The loud electronic house tunes of Chris Lake his ‘La Tromba’ turned into Hardwell his ‘Spaceman’ which seemed to cause everyone in the with colorful LED lit nightclub to have their own little daredevil come out. The playful sensual dances turning into what even here in Abu Dhabi on the more liberal side of the Gulf would be considered salacious, as alcohol had broken down any barriers of self-consciousness.
Partying flight attendants, international movie stars, and models. They all came to life in the luxurious nightlife of our cosmopolitan metropolis. A metropolis which always seemed to shine just a bit brighter on nights like these when my good friend Edgardo Fiorentino opened up the money faucet and let the champagne richly flow. The young Milanesi, son of an Italian business magnate in the steel production industry, and not shy when it came to flaunting his wealth. Nor were any of the other guys who had joined us on our little escapade.
Just as many other nights today Edgardo his stack of brightly lit Euros had landed him some Western actress. Naturally I wasn’t to be outdone, spending the family earned Dirhams lavishly to provide a continuous flow of golden alcoholic bliss. My more conservative (in comparison with the very liberal Europeans at least) social antics a big hit with the so called ‘Khaliji Girls’ which where some of the most beautiful women imaginable who came from the conservative countries like Bahrain, Oman and Qatar. All willing to spend daddy their money while having a good time.
As the hour of the obligatory after party dawned upon us we moved our little entourage to my rented penthouse, which was overlooking the brightly lit city. Lights which became nothing more, but blurred stars in the sky as the night went on and the alcohol kept flowing. The last thing I remember is; Zahra the girl I had managed to wrap around my finger that night- taking off her plunging dress by Versace and her Armani designed underwear. My last solid memory until I was woken up by the annoying beeping of my smartphone the next morning. The now by sunlight brightly lit penthouse nothing, but an eyesore.
As I swiped open the home screen of my phone I was welcomed back to earth by the message that I had 18 missed calls from father. Used to this procedure by now, in a reflex I grabbed my laptop and browsed to the website of Abu Dhabi its biggest tabloid paper, finding exactly what I expected.
I looked over to the still asleep Zahra her face surprisingly pretty (you never know under the influence of alcohol, just to make completely sure I checked under the bed sheets and was pleasantly surprised with the curves I discovered. Closing my laptop and redialing my father his number, I told myself; “Totally. Worth it.”
