AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He is my brother?
“He’s known for a few years, no more than two,” dad explains hurriedly. “His mother is American, and she never told me he was born. He grew up over there, but he found out the truth last year, I think. When I learned who he was, he was already hired as your bodyguard. He apparently took that position on purpose, to be close to you. I can’t… I couldn’t let him be in such danger, I never would have approved him if I’d known, but he insisted on keeping his job. So I agreed to send him with you to Vermont for a few months, and then I was planning to fly him back here, to have him live with us. To continue his education, whatever he wants. His mother is no longer in the picture, I understand. I never thought… I never thought for a moment that the danger would be so great for both him and you. No one did…” He cries quietly. I have never heard or seen my dad cry like this, for so long. I didn’t think he could. “He wanted to be your bodyguard, since his parentage had to be kept a secret. There is one more person, who…”
“Who is it?” I ask quickly.
“I don’t know,” my dad says, and I don’t know if he’s lying or not, but right now I don’t really care all that much. Maybe he has his suspicions, but he’s not sure, so he really shouldn’t say, especially not now. I don’t want to waste any more time with him talking about this. “I love you,” he says again. “I’ll call you soon, ok?”
I tell him I love him too and hang up. Voices are yelling for him in the background, and I know I shouldn’t keep him; he needs to fight, to do everything he can to save me.
Marco and I just sit still in the silence for a few seconds.
I look down at the phone in my hand. Marco and I decided to not turn on the news in order to keep the battery going for a few more hours; besides, I’m in no mood to see all the media flooded with news of my own death. But now that the goodbyes have finally happened, I want to turn the phone off. I ask Marco and he nods. I do it.
Immediately as soon as the phone is dead, our last connection with the outside world, I feel oddly calm.
It’s just as well that the phone call ended when it did. I don’t know if I could take any more—and I know that I couldn’t stand saying goodbye to my dad, not properly. But I told him I love him and I forgive him. That will have to be enough. The loss of my dad’s voice leaves me empty and hollow. I wrap my arms around my torso.
“Are you ok?” Marco asks.
“No,” I reply and he nods.
“I know you’re not,” he says.
“Did you… Did you know about Hector?”
“Know what?”
“Never mind.”
I am too numb to cry. Too cold. Immobilized.
“Come here,” Marco says and then he just holds me. And I just let him.
/Marco/
[audio transcript]
In the army, I met this guy, Hector. We immediately became friends, but then as the grueling hours of training and then the actual war wore us out—we got deported together—we became more than friends. We became brothers. More connected than if we were each other’s blood. We were family.
That vigorous, brutal training… We got to be very close in order to survive. We nearly died together countless times, we faced danger, we watched fellow soldiers die… We became each other’s person. He was from a poor family too, his parents pretty much nonexistent. He was just as lost as I was, but together, we were no longer lost.
Hector was having a rough time from the beginning, but when we got to the war zone, things became really hard for him. He couldn’t cope. He had nightmares and panic attacks, up to four a day. It just broke me to see him suffer so much.
He tried to die a couple of times—I found him myself during one of his attempts, and carried him bodily to the infirmary. They patched him up and stopped the bleeding, but no one would help him, not essentially. They didn’t take him seriously. The next time he did it, they made him vomit out the things he had swallowed, and sent him back to the barracks. Back to his post. Maybe they thought he was doing it in order to be sent home. Many guys tried tricks like that. But Hector was in serious trouble—he was not well. I tried to be there for him, but I’m not a therapist, I couldn’t help him. He tried it one more time, and I barely got to him in time.
I promised to myself it would be the last time. If no one would move a finger to help him, then I would. I knew I would lose him otherwise. He was already dying in front of my eyes, and I could no longer watch.
Hector was my brother, my person. We had been each other’s best friend within months of knowing each other. I couldn’t lose him, mom. I would do anything to save him. I kept trying to take his place when we were sent on missions, tried to ease his burden, but it wasn’t enough. He was crying every night, he wasn’t eating.
He was literally dying, the army was killing him. I had to do something.
So I pulled some strings to get him sent home early. I asked around, talked to the people who had the power to make that happen. I said I’d do anything in return. I figured I was signing myself off for five more years of this hell, but it was worth it. I would stay there for ten more years if it meant that Hector would be home, safe. They said fine, we’ll help your friend, but when we ask for you, you’d better deliver.
I said fine, sure. We shook hands.
They did it.
Hector got sent home out of the blue. He was so happy, so relieved. He immediately put himself in therapy, but I already knew he would do that. I stayed behind, breathing in relief, calling him every week to make sure he was doing better. He was.
