If we were doing sixty, the train was probably doing fifty-five. The highway was parallel to the tracks but we were gaining speed because we needed to cross to the other side before the long train arrived at the railroad crossing. It seemed like we were going to beat it. We were getting closer. At that point, we had a better chance if I accelerated a little bit more. If I’d try to use the brakes or chicken out, it would be fatal.
My brother Ralph was always daring me to do stuff like that,
and I was stupid enough to pay attention to him. On the other hand, Anthony was
always eager for a chance to reach another adrenaline high. He kept cheering.
Ralph was twenty-two years old. Anthony was seventeen, and I was nineteen.
***
I was asleep on the couch, when I heard someone knocking at
the door. I didn’t want to get up, but whoever was at the door had been very persistent.
When I opened the door nobody was there. I was pissed but happy at the same
time because I could go back to sleep. The moment I sat down, they knocked
again, this time I hurried to the door but again, nobody was there. When I sat
down on the couch I was very alert and ready to jump and catch the funny guy
who interrupted my sweet dreams. Even if it were one of my brothers, I would
kick his ass.
I
was very attentively looking at the door. That's when I noticed they
were knocking on another door, the closet door in front of the
couch across the room. What the hell?
I wasn’t mad anymore; that was a cool joke after all. I bet
it was my younger brother Anthony. Ralph wasn’t so inventive as to pull such a
smart prank. But I still wanted to kick somebody’s ass.
When I opened the closet door, I was still smiling, but nobody
was there either. What the hell? I clearly heard someone knocking from the
inside. How could they do that? Then I grabbed a visible note that was left hanging
from the shelf. It said, “You need to go to the cemetery. We’ll meet you
there.” It was signed by Ralph and Anthony.
My brothers and I had always been close. We spent most of our
time together. If Ralph wanted to visit our grandma in Tijuana, we would also go.
If Anthony wanted to go hiking, we would all go too. Entire days when we were
apart were very rare.
They both knew how much I loved cemeteries. When we were kids,
I begged them to join me to the cemetery every year on the day of the dead even
though we didn’t have anyone to visit. The first time we smoked grass, we were
there. I remember it was a foggy night and just before midnight Ralph said,
“Shh, did you guys hear that?” We turned around and a second later we fled
like mad ghosts, laughing hysterically.
It was almost dark when I arrived at the cemetery. We always
liked a mausoleum with a black marble surface, four thick grey columns and a
statue of a child angel. I went straight to that tomb, but they weren’t there. I
kept looking for them until I found two mounds of fresh dirt obviously
belonging to two recent arrivals. My two brothers were there. I mean, they were
there, physically, but they looked transparent and foggy. Each, sitting down on a mound. Then I understood what had happened.
We didn’t make it to the other side of the railroad crossing.
Both of them had a sorrowful smile.
“I miss you brother,” Anthony said to me right away. “We were
supposed to be together all our lives. We can’t be apart, remember? We cannot be
with you anymore, but you can come with us. You have to, brother. We need you.
Ralph was weeping sadly. “We didn’t make it bro. Well, you
did, but not us. We don’t know what’s going on, but I think, soon someone
will come for us, ‘cause nobody else is here. And we don’t want to leave
without you.”
At last, I understood the situation. I was alive but alone.
My whole life ahead of me, but without my brothers it didn’t make sense. I will
always be incomplete. The whole world belonged to me, but I didn’t want it. Not
without my brothers.
“What’s the solution? What do I need to do to be with you? Does
that mean that I have to commit . . . ?” I replied, but I had to stop before I
pronounced that ominous word.
“It’s either that or maybe we can help you somehow,”
Anthony said. “I think the best thing we can do is to dig another hole next to
ours, then you can lie down at the bottom while we fill it back.” He began to
dig with his hands. In an instant all three of us were digging, satisfied with
Anthony’s idea.
To dig a big hole by hand, even if we were three, it
wasn’t easy. We were happy to be together, and we began to reminisce about
our childhood and adolescence.
Ralph told us about the time he lost his virginity and about
the silly situation he created when he dropped the condom in the dark and
kept looking for it under the bed until he noticed he had it on one of his
fingers. We laughed until we had tears on our eyes, even though we had heard
that story a dozen times before.
Anthony told us the story about the time he stole one of my dad’s
wristwatches to sell and buy a heart pendant for our mom on mother’s day. He was
only thirteen.
When it was my turn to tell a story, we were on our
knees, but we couldn’t see the surface anymore.
Just
before I began with my tale, the silhouette of a man
appeared with a flashlight on one hand and a shovel on the other. He
said, “What the hell are you doing? You grave robbers, sons of bitches!”
Not even a
second had passed when I felt the shovel hitting the side of my head. I
fell on
my back, semiconscious, but I still could see the gravedigger trying to
hit my
brothers with the shovel. Swinging it left and right in vain, and
saying, “What the
hell?” Until he realized that my brothers were the ghosts or spirits of
the two
young men, he had recently buried. And he sped away faster than the
train that
killed my brothers.
I could barely hear the joyous laughter of my brothers. And
that made me happy.
The following day there were three mounds of fresh dirt next
to each other.
But we weren’t there anymore.
Edmundo Barraza
Visalia, CA. Nov-14-2012
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