And I, back then, just stood still in a corner, watching the vehicle carrying the inmates disappear when I turned the corner.
Seven years later, my father died of a stroke.
Three years later, my mother also began to weaken from diabetes and heart complications. But, curiously, although he had said the cruelest words against Stephen, he kept in a drawer an old photograph of him from when he was young.
At the turn of fifteen, Stephen was released from prison.
The whole family knew beforehand. But no one wanted to go pick it up.
That night, during dinner at my mother’s house, Thomas left the plate on the table and said coldly:
“Whoever wants to mess with him, let him get in. But I'm not going to let someone like that set foot in my house.
Lucia twisted her mouth with disdain:
“People like him get out of jail and they’re still the same.
Mariela, while sipping her pot coffee, added indifferently:
“It’s best to fix them alone. The house that receives it will only attract misfortune.
My mother remained silent for a long time. Then he asked in a tired voice:
“So where are you supposed to go?”
No one answered.
I looked around the table. People who shared the same blood with Stephen talked about abandoning it as if it were a broken object.
Then I said:
If no one goes after him, I'll go.
Everyone saw me again.
Tomás frowned:
“Diego, you have a transport company, a wife and two children. Don't bring trouble to your house.
I squeezed the edge of the chair tightly.
“He’s my brother.
Lucia let out a dry laugh:
“Brother?” After fifteen years, it is nothing more than a burden.
I didn't answer. But the next morning I drove my old pickup to the prison on the outskirts.
Esteban walked out the front door in faded clothes and an old backpack spent in his hand. He was thinner than he imagined, with his cheekbones sunk and eyes marked by the years. But when he saw me, he stopped dry.
“You really... came for me?”
I walked over and hugged him.
“Let’s go home, brother.
I felt a slight tremor in his shoulders.
During the return journey, Esteban stared out the window for a long time. When we entered the colony, he asked me quietly:
Does Mom know I'm going to your house?
I was silent a few seconds before I answered:
“You know that. But he didn't say anything.
My house was in a quieter area west of Guadalajara. I had managed to build a small company dedicated to the transport of agricultural products between Jalisco and Michoacán. We were not millionaires, but we did live comfortably and we could give our two children a good school.
Only, when Esteban crossed the door of my house, I immediately felt the atmosphere tighten.
My wife, Sofia, was standing in the room. The smile was wiped from his face as soon as he saw the man in the old backpack.
“You really brought him here?” he asked with a rigid voice.
I replied:
“You have nowhere to go.
Sofia looked at Stephen from top to bottom and then turned her eyes to me.
“Diego, our children live here.
