Blood Brothers Xavier Navarro Aquino (bio) We wanted to steal it. The famed six-hundred-ton Cristóbal Colón statue that made the rounds across the Atlantic, trying to find its permanent home, rejected by Uncle Sam, all but forsaken, eventually snuck its way onto our island as quietly as an angry ex looking to get even. We saw on Noticentro the news about Cris. His ugly Greek head, showing no features that resembled a massive human face. At his base were these terribly sculpted ships and waves. All of it something a toddler must've drawn up. We knew the logistics were against us. But stealing the head of Cris seemed possible. The guys had gotten notorious for sneaking out of construction sites with copper and metal and selling it cheap to contractors. We had contacts in Vega Baja and Hatillo that Danny made. They were his go-to people. But that was before Danny got caught in attempted armed robbery. After that, he was hotter than asphalt in June. No one wanted a piece of him. Now he was out on parole and living at Tata's. Only visited Tito Lomo on that rare occasion. As news broke of Cris, and Danny got to daydreaming, the government let everyone in Lomo know our neighborhood school was being shut down. Lack of funding, no teachers, the usual. Except word also got out that our illustrious alcalde wanted Lomo shut down too. We'd have nowhere to live. Yariel was a lobster hand. Danny never liked when he tagged along because he had difficulty carrying shit and had us a couple of times get close and personal with the cops. Yari was much older than us but wanted to keep his young soul together. Danny would strip Yari of his dignity when he got pissed, reminded him of the cocaine sniffing his mom must've done while in labor. And that it was no wonder she got her tubes tied by the government. "That's not how it went," Yari would say. He was right. His mom and her generation were all part of that famed forced sterilization in Puerto [End Page 126] Rico. Danny knew too, but it never stopped him from poking fun at Yari. I let him tussle Yari around for the spectacle. "She's a snorter, Yari. You're lucky to have come out of that chocha in one piece," I'd say to him, playing stupid. "That's not what happened to her! She didn't ask—" "Cool it, Yari!" Danny said. "The sixties were a good time. The important thing is you're alive, right. Even if you're all monstruo looking. El chakal's very spawn. The likes which hit the feo tree. Every. Leaf. Down." He danced in a circle and smacked my hand whenever we cornered him. Yari's eyes would water. He'd sit there, recién nacido, his old face pruned up in search of his mom's pezón. Yet he always stuck by us, sucking on our words like nectar. Ma had taken to ignoring me and Danny. Her disappointment weighed on the glares she gave us whenever we hung out together at Lomo. We were done with high school and our career prospectus went up in smoke. After a decade bumming around, neither Danny or me managed out of school, and even though we laminated our resumes with glossy details, the jobs wouldn't return calls. I was Ma's biggest disappointment. Still living at home while Danny, like a pariah, only came around to reconvene with the guys and start trouble. My grades had been top of the class. Danny, however, barely graduated. I felt guilty. So, I loitered around. Didn't look to attend college. Didn't want to leave home. But Ma. She repeated to me with emphasis, tu eres la gran desepción. Her method of coping with all her disappointment became sleeping her days away. Never moved to brush her teeth in the mornings, or bathe when she got real stinky. Sometimes she'd disappear for days on end. I was grateful that at least Danny was up and moving...