by Matt Whyman
‘I don’t want your money,’ I snapped. ‘And please stop buying me gifts because it doesn’t make things better. Alberto, I need to earn my way, like you. I want the same kind of options.’
‘What options?’
‘Alberto,’ I scoffed. ‘I can’t choose what channel to watch on the TV without old Jairo climbing all over my back! You have the right to decide who lives and dies for Christ’s sake!’
‘It isn’t a choice,’ he said, quietening down now.
‘But you can leave!’ I argued. ‘If you wanted you could use that gun to help start all over again. I don’t have that choice. If things go from bad to worse, all I can do is deal with it the best I can.’
‘And where do you think I should go, Sonny? Seeing that you got it all worked out?’
I drew breath to remind him about what he had once said about climbing the mountains just to see what was on the other side. It had been his dream, after all, but he was glaring at me now, like he was here to stay.
‘Take me on a job,’ I said again. ‘Then maybe we can move on together, like it should be.’
Alberto looked pained. Deep creases appeared across his brow as he thought things through.
‘I have to be at the square in half an hour,’ he said finally. ‘Things are a little crazy right now. El Fantasma says it always kicks off before a big match, I guess because it stirs the blood.’
Without another word, Alberto reached for the door once more and jerked it open. Sure enough, there was Galán listening in from the other side just as I had suspected. Alberto tutted at the storekeeper, who retreated to the counter as if my friend owned the place now.
‘What do you think El Fantasma will make of me?’ I asked them both, because it was clear the storeowner had heard every word.
‘What can I say?’ Galán touched his chest with his fingertips. ‘I already made one introduction.’
Alberto turned back to me, struggling to look upbeat as ever.
‘The boss is a big Nacional fan,’ he said, and gestured for me to follow him. ‘So I guess we’re all on the same side.’
‘Eh, Sonny!’ this was Galán. We turned to find him standing with his palms spread now. ‘What about the peanuts?’
‘Later,’ said Alberto, and glanced at me. ‘My brother here never let anyone down yet.’
12
The man with the dead eye was called Manu. For the first time since he pulled up into our lives, I found him looking directly at me. I was standing in front of the fountain, watching from a distance. Alberto had instructed me to keep back when the green Dodge turned into the square, and I did exactly as I was told. My friend had leaned in on the driver’s side, talked for ten seconds or so, and then pointed at me. Despite that strange look he had, Manu left me in no doubt that he was scoping me out.
I leaned back against the wall of the fountain, tried to keep cool like I didn’t give a damn. A cigarette burned between my fingers, but the truth was I felt too sick to smoke it. The afternoon was still and quiet, but so hot I found it almost hurt to be outside. Shuttered stores and lobby doors surrounded the square, with little green and white flags strung between windows. The place was deserted, closed down for lunch, but most probably in between parties. I tried not to think that it meant I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
‘The name’s Sonny,’ I muttered to myself, practising what I would say to him. ‘I won’t let you down.’
The line sounded good to me, just as it did when Alberto had said it in Galán’s store. When my friend dipped back to the driver’s window again, I hoped maybe he was going to tell him direct. I had no idea what was actually being said, but Alberto bought his hands into the conversation this time and I could hear their voices rising.
‘Tell him what I did for you,’ I said under my breath. ‘Tell him I can be trusted.’
It began to sound bad, the way the pair of them tried to talk over each other. Then Alberto sprung from the conversation and crossed towards me. He kept his head down all the way over, his lips pressed tight together.
‘Not today,’ was all he said, coming close like he didn’t want to be overheard.
‘But he took you!’ I declared. I just wasn’t prepared for this. Alberto had been chosen, so why not me?
Manu began to gun the big engine as we spoke. Alberto glanced over his shoulder, and waved like he’d only be a moment more. He didn’t seem to realise how much I wanted this. ‘Maybe next time,’ he said. ‘Another day, yeah?’
‘I’m ready now,’ I argued, frantic all of a sudden. I had watched that taxi drive away too many times with Alberto in the back seat. Now I really needed to be there beside him, even if it meant falling out about it first. Maybe I was being selfish and unreasonable, but I couldn’t help myself. Manu punched the car horn next, yet I refused to let my friend go. I stood square, my heart racing, and searched his expression for cracks.
‘Sonny,’ he said eventually, with a tired-sounding sigh. ‘I don’t make the decisions. I just do what I’m told. Least you can do what you want with your day, even if it doesn’t come to much. You don’t have to squeeze your eyes shut at any time. You’re free.’
‘Free from what?’
Alberto didn’t have a chance to explain himself, for Manu bellowed his name across the square.
‘I’m out of here,’ he insisted. ‘But hey, it’s nearly tomorrow. Who cares about today? When those turnstiles open, I want to be first into the stadium!’
‘Alberto, forget about the football for just a second—’
‘Swear to me you got my ticket, still.’
‘You know that already!’ I was desperate not to lose out, but angry too. It made me feel even worse about keeping on at him, but this was all about loyalty now. ‘I can’t face another afternoon on my own,’ I confessed. ‘All I do these days is wait, and I could be out there making things happen. Talk to him again, Alberto. I’m begging you!’
The sound of a car door snapping open made us both jump. Manu climbed out of the car, and spat furiously at his feet. Alberto seemed totally torn. He looked back at me, and I really thought I had got through this time. Then he clapped me on the shoulder, and all the fight threatened to leave me too.
‘Keep those tickets safe, brother of mine,’ was what he said. ‘I trust you more than anyone.’
‘I don’t want you to go,’ I pleaded, and that stopped him good. My vision began to thicken and swim. I blinked back tears, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Manu yelled at Alberto to get his sorry ass into the cab, but this time he ignored him. I swallowed hard, hoping my voice wouldn’t crack up on me. ‘Alberto, if you’re in trouble why don’t you stick around? We can make everything like it used to be.’
My friend considered what I had said for what seemed like an age. Even Manu fell quiet, and then returned to his car when Alberto shook his head at me. ‘I got wings and a Smith and Wesson,’ he said, and made a point of rolling his shoulders before turning for the Dodge. ‘Even God can’t touch me now.’
I felt ashamed of myself for much of the afternoon. Every time I put myself in Alberto’s shoes, I saw a snot-nosed kid in front of me who couldn’t take care of himself. It was only when the sun began to set that my anger started rising. People were coming out to begin a great fiesta, but I just didn’t feel I could join in, and that’s when I started cursing his name again. I even went back to the store to finish bagging the peanuts, only to find Galán had locked up early and pulled down all the shutters. The fireworks began to bloom soon after dark, lifting into the night sky from every direction. It felt like the whole of Medellín was in high spirits except me.
I went home around seven o’clock, found Jairo out cold in front of the box with a Nacional scarf draped round his shoulders. He was slumped back in his seat with his bandaged foot on the table and his mouth wide open. It looked like Alberto had come back and put a bullet down his throat. That he was wheezing made it clear he would still be here to catch the match, while the bottle in front of him
warned me to be out of sight when he finally surfaced. Even so, I wondered if I’d feel this numb had I really found him dead in front of his favourite telenovela. He didn’t stir when I switched it off, and for a while I just sat opposite him, amazed that all the firecrackers and the singing from the streets below couldn’t wake him.
It was the eve of the big match, and I had never felt this low in my life. I figured Alberto wouldn’t be away for ever, but I refused to call for him. He had let me down badly, I decided, and if our friendship meant anything to him now then he would have to work hard to make up for it. I stretched my feet under the table, and just stared at the bad foot in front of me. I was bored and fed up, which was what persuaded me to take a slug from the bottle. Jairo liked to switch between Colombian beer and cheap brand aguardiente. He drank spirits when times were really tough for him, usually this firewater. I never had understood how a drink could help you to forget about your troubles, but the first slug changed all that for me. Ave Maria! It practically ignited inside my guts! Even so, it made a change from the joints Alberto had been so keen to roll, so I tipped the bottle to my lips again.
Part of me worried that my uncle would notice that the bottle was lighter when he next poured himself a glass, but slowly that fear faded. I just sat there, sipping every now and then, wishing I could switch him off. He wasn’t snoring. That would’ve been bearable. It was more of a rattle that started too deep down to be in his throat, and I quickly decided that the noise was too much for me.
‘Let me play you some Nirvana,’ I suggested playfully, aware that I could say anything while he was in this state. ‘Actually, just shut up and listen!’
My uncle had finished taping up the beat box, and I was pleased to discover that it still worked OK. The bust-up speaker rattled a bit, but Kurt Cobain made up for that. Jairo didn’t twitch even when I turned it up some, so I kicked back with my feet on top of the table just like him. My uncle was totally out of it and remained that way for the next half an hour. He only looked like he might wake up when a knock at the door interrupted our private party. I lunged forward to kill the volume, and that was what disturbed him. It also meant whoever was outside knew that I was in.
It had to be Alberto, I thought to myself, but I was damned if I was going to open up just like that. No way. Now that I knew he would come round I decided he should pay a price for one night only. My uncle groaned and smacked his lips but soon settled back into his slumber. Seconds later, on hearing footsteps return to the stairs, I reached for the bottle again.
‘There wouldn’t be enough to go round,’ I told Jairo, and saluted him with a big swig. The hit lifted me on to my feet, just as a volley of fireworks screamed for the stars outside. It was enough to make my uncle start muttering and mumbling again, and I didn’t like the sound of that one bit. Without thinking I turned up the stereo, and amazingly he settled back again. It seemed old Jairo preferred to party alone than celebrate with real people.
There were two rival teams in this city, but from my window it looked like all the fans had come together for a good time. I peered down, hoping to spot some familiar faces I could hang out with, only to see a young woman drift into the street dressed all in white. She seemed divine to my eyes, almost glowing from the inside out as she cut across the crowd. Even before she stopped and turned her pale face up to me, I felt like I had just ignored a visit from one of God’s own messengers.
13
I had already made a fool of myself in front of Alberto’s sister that day. After the way I had behaved when she broke down about her brother, I didn’t think she’d want anything more to do with me. Now it seemed she had been good enough to call at my door, and this was how I behaved! I flinched from the window, unsure if she had seen me, but quickly decided I needed to make up for my stupidity. Alberto had caused us both a lot of grief, I thought. Maybe we could help each other.
‘Beatriz!’ I crashed out into the crowded street, and tried to cross just as she had. It wasn’t so easy for me, however, and I found myself getting shoved and snarled at and told to take it easy. I turned a couple of times, hoping to catch a glimpse of that flowing white dress she was wearing, but it just made me feel giddy and breathless. What was the point of drinking, I thought, if it made you feel sick as well as sorry? I dug in my heels as best I could, and called her name again. I would’ve carried on until I heard her voice, but a string of firecrackers went off like a dog fight just behind me. The crowd around it scattered, and I found myself caught up in the push. When I got some space again, I realised I could hear my beat box over all the laughter and the singing. I looked around and spotted our building. Then I saw Jairo at the window. He was leaning out with his drink in one hand, yelling for me to haul my ass back inside. I figured he must’ve woken as I scrambled to leave the apartment, having left my stereo blazing and the lid off the bottle. I couldn’t go back now, at least not without my mother around, and realised that meant I was facing a very long night indeed. Still, with so many people having the time of their lives out here, swapping backslaps, cigarettes and songs, I decided to just go with the flow.
Which was how I wound up outside the stadium when the sun came up next morning, with five thousand pesos in my pocket, a strained wrist and a swollen lip.
The money would buy me a McDonald’s meal at most. At any other time, it would’ve been a stretch, but this had cost me a beating, as well as my appetite. I had nobody else to blame for that, and decided it was time I grew up a bit. After turning my back on the apartment, I had hooked up with some kids from the barrio. They were just babies really: eight and nine-year-olds who earned a living selling fake lottery tickets at the traffic lights three blocks south. I even heard they pulled off a carjack some days before, and didn’t doubt it. They certainly looked like they could shape up into a gang, with their bandanas and the switchblades that came out when I asked them how they’d persuaded three men from the petroleum company to part with their Chevrolet. The way they acted out the scene made me hoot with laughter, and I wished I had been there to see a dozen oily scraps cram into the car and then bicker about who would do the driving. It was clear to me they lacked a leader, and amid the celebrations I had gone a little wild with them.
‘Show us what you’re made of,’ they had said, and that was how it started. ‘We never hung with the brother of a sicario.’
What money I went on to make had come out of a purse: the result of a dare gone wrong. I was feeling drunk and headstrong at the time, and keen that they remember me. I didn’t have a gun like Alberto, but I wanted the same kind of respect and attention. Watch me, I had said, and taken a book of tickets into the traffic. In this city, you drove with the doors locked and never wound down your windows. Unless, of course, you were stuck at the lights and a boy like me was pretending to sell you the winning slip. It had taken a little longer than I hoped, however, and I guess I panicked. The kids had begun to make jokes at my expense. Shifting tickets is child’s play! That’s what they had called across when I made my second sale, so I just went for it: I waited for the next car to stop for me, put my hand up under my shirt, as if reaching for a holster, and made out I was packing a piece. The woman in the driving seat had freaked out completely, which startled me almost as much. I should’ve fled as soon as she flung her purse at me. Instead, I just stood there with my prize. I was utterly amazed at what I had done, and only came to my senses when some college jocks from the car behind leapt out to her rescue.
The kids had fled into the night just as soon as they saw that I was in trouble. Alberto would never have abandoned me like that. I only had to think of the lesson he taught my uncle to remind me of his courage. He may have walked away when I needed him that afternoon, but nobody had been threatening to squash me into the tarmac at the time. Had my friend been around when those jocks caught up with me, I doubt I would’ve taken yet another beating. When I finally slipped from their clutches, with my t-shirt torn and my head in a daze, I realised how much I missed him.
<
br /> Without Alberto, it seemed I would never be anything more than a victim. When I caught up with him, I decided, I would make sure he never left my side again.
He might as well have been with me when I found myself outside the stadium, because nobody tried to shake me down. It had seemed like the only place in this city where I felt at home, even if it was the middle of the night and as dangerous as the jungle. There were plenty of shadowy figures drifting around, also drunks and diehard fans waiting for the ticket office to open the next morning, but nobody paid any attention to the boy with the bloody lip and the distant stare. I guess it helped that I looked robbed already, and I was in no mood to make my presence known. I just took myself to the spot where Alberto and I had knocked so many balls about whenever a match was on, and that’s where I settled down. I didn’t move when dawn broke, all curled up with my hands under my cheek, and only got to my feet again when the space around me began to shrink. I grew thirsty too, with no escape from the strengthening sun, but I worried that I’d miss my friend if I moved from the crowd. At times I had to shove and push to stay standing, but the crush I was in just melted when the gates finally opened.
Towards kick-off, the space I had claimed was almost my own again when some more kids showed up with a ball. They knocked it about for a bit, and then started their own match when a roar from the stadium marked the real kick-off. Using t-shirts for goalposts, they put in their own ninety minutes with all the passion and guts of the players on the pitch itself. Throughout I just stood there with two tickets in my hand and a heart slowly dying in my chest. I even missed the result, but by then I had finally woken up to what I had lost.
