My brother the black sheep

The day Carlos saved Adrian’s number, on the back of his notebook, he had received a WhatsApp message from him out of nowhere.

“Carlitos!, this is Adrian, how you've been man?”

Last time they talked was twelve years ago, when they both were living in Bolivia. Eager to hear from his lost cousin, Carlos took a break from work and called him. They caught up for a few hours. They talked about everything, Carlos told Adrian about his wife and all the places they had traveled together. He also told him about the pain of having student loan debt. Adrian told Carlos about his latest relationship, his new stepson, and about why he estranged himself from his family. To Carlos those confessions made all his news seem like trivial details. He wished he had been more genuine and open with the things he had shared. That unapologetic frankness reminded him of the Adrian from his childhood, the Adrian that knew he was no good, yet never tried to hide it. Adrian either always had a hard time lying or never cared if the truth made someone not like him. He was no hypocrite. Carlos admired that about his cousin, because throughout his life he had seen people, including himself, say all sorts of lies in order to be accepted. Adrian didn’t seem to care about that.

In the inevitable desire to reciprocate, Carlos shared the worrying lack of interest he had been experiencing towards his perfect marriage of twelve years; his wife was only supportive but he revealed to Adrian that his interests for her was slipping and–worst of all–she was sensing it too. Adrian’s response was impossibly assertive: “Is it a coworker? who are you trying to fuck?” Carlos felt like he had been caught and there was no way to hide it. He did not admit it then, but indeed it was a coworker who had been sparking the lack of interest in his wife. “I just don’t see myself growing with her” Carlos lied. Adrian encouraged him to assess how much he and his wife had accomplished together. Carlos reminded him that they did not have children; Adrian suggested that Carlos reconsider that desire to throw it all for a fling. He insisted Carlos watch a movie about an affair gone wrong. Carlos was stunned and had no words to respond, so he changed the subject by asking something everybody in the family wanted to know, “where are you living these days?” The answer was simple: “Paraguay.” Carlos was surprised; last he had heard he was in Spain.

“I still go to Bolivia, every once in a while, when I cross the border with merchandise.” Carlos knew that “merchandise” meant contraband, so hoping he had another way to make a living he asked “what else do you do in Paraguay?” “I have a small hardware store” Adrian replied, which sounded it like a lie. For Carlos it was enough, he did not want to insist. The illegal nature of his cousin’s business was not a surprise; Adrian had always been attracted to get-rich-quick schemes and, for the most part, luck was not in his side. He often got mixed up with dubious characters, but he was also–back then–the only teenager that Carlos knew that carried more money than his parents.

Adrian, consciously or not, had been burning bridges in their family for quite a while, so the news of his estrangement was not unexpected but the details were still surprising. Adrian told Carlos the decision to move to Paraguay had to do with the growing troubles he had resulting from a bad business and the increasing scrutiny he was facing from his brother Mario. Adrian told Carlos that in one of his gigs two of his cargos were confiscated. Customs patrol officers got them in a random search, but Adrian suspected his brother had something to do with it because it felt like an ambush and not like a routine random search. So when he found himself on the hook for the money he decided to disappear without telling anyone where he was heading. Carlos asked how much money he was talking about and Adrian replied “sixty-five thousand, in dollars.”

Carlos remembered that number because it was the same amount he owned in student loans at the time of his graduation. In many ways Carlos understood his cousin’s decision to run away, he himself thought of leaving everything behind, after realizing it would take him years to pay his debt. Carlos then asked if he would ever go back to Bolivia and Adrian replied calmly "not in a while." Adrian asked the same question and Carlos said "yes, definitely, once I get rid of my debt." About two hours had passed and Carlos noticed he had missed a meeting so he excused himself and asked Adrian to pick up their conversation another day. He then sincerely asked him to not get lost again. Adrian told him “you could reach me at this number, just don’t share it with anyone.” Carlos agreed and wrote it down in the back of his notebook.

In the same sudden fashion Adrian appeared on Carlos’s radar he also disappeared, but not before borrowing some money, which he promised to pay soon. Carlos was aware of his cousin's modus operandi, but he didn’t mind losing one hundred dollars. In fact, he enjoyed talking to him, and wished he told him that he need not worry about giving it back; but that thought made him worry that the requests for favors would only increase, so he did not say anything and he wished it didn’t have to be that way.

Carlos, who had been living in the United States for twenty years now, felt trapped in a place where he didn’t belong, so the call with his cousin reminded him of home. For him, having gone to a college and getting a job that anybody from Bolivia would dream of did not feel like a rewarding experience. That idea of living in a place everybody seemed to admire was troubling. In reality what he experienced was how oppressive the United States was for people like him and the constraints that his huge student debt had put on his future. He couldn’t care for, or see, the so-called American Dream.

Some years later Carlos was walking with an entanglement of feelings in his mind when he decided to visit his parent’s house in Maryland. On that day, like many others, he was intrigued by the thought of what could have been if they had stayed in Bolivia, so he seized the moment after dinner and reminded them “things have never been easy here.” He asked them “why do we have to struggle in a foreign place?” “Why are we here?” His dad, who was proud of Carlos for always exuding so much confidence, said nothing. He didn't know his son felt that way, he stayed silent and offered his usual stoic facial expression. A moment later his mom replied “I am only here because you all are here” then with a gesture that looked childish she said “we should all move back.” Carlos agreed with his head but like his father, he did not know what to say. His life, like that of his sister, was already cemented in this land. His dad then replied, "maybe when we retire."

Changing subjects, Carlos’s dad announced “they are finally going to sell the house in Cochabamba. Your uncles are looking for Adrian, Mario has managed to get my brother's share of the sale all for himself, he got him to sign a power of attorney on his name"

Carlos was used to the family feuds back in Bolivia, but it never occurred to him to intervene. Carlos’ mom then said "that is illegal, if Adrian wants he can get a lawyer and fight for his share, because it is his inheritance too." Carlos, aware of what was coming next–they all knew Adrian and him were close–asked "how much money is their share of the sale?" his father replied "twenty-thousand dollars."

Carlos mentioned how some years back he had talked to him over the phone and that he might be able to contact him. He only needed to find his black Moleskine notebook.