THE VISIT

My brother was a trafficker, he liked the night, bling bling, mocha, silver and bullets. Feared, hated and admired. Leader of the population, did not run a fly without him knowing. "The Godfather of 58" whom everyone was looking for in some favor. My beautiful house, the full refrigerator, the brand clothes, nothing was missing.
Richard Verdugo was called, self-centered as he alone, said he had everything, he just needed to be immortal. I wanted to imitate him, but he never left. If I saw myself in bad steps, where I was caught, I was going to get the crest, what better to study, that it wasn't like him, that I didn't have street talent.
But there is no eternal narco, they say. His same arrogance was responsible for playing a betrayal, his closest sold it to the cop, but this one was not left, on August 23 he got involved in a shooting in which I was next to him and I saw him fall dead of a head shot.

It was a Tuesday morning that someone rang the door plate. They wanted to get in bad, probably my brother's enemies that would steal everything from us. My old woman took a gun and aimed. But when that intruder opened the surprise it was capitalized.

• Hi Mom. Hey, change the sheet, with a simple little iron I entered, it's that easy. Hey, do you have some coins? I owed the taxi driver money and he is waiting for me outside to pay him.

My mother turned on the light, Richard, there, in our house, as if nothing. Then he complained that he was hungry and that they please cook something for him. My old woman started crying.

• Come, accompany me to eat - he said.
• It can't be, you're dead, I saw when they killed you.
• Little brother, stop talking about it. Did they miss me or didn't they miss me?
• Yes - my mother replied excitedly.
• Then take advantage then.

We take the bus early to Cartagena the next day. My old woman made hard boiled eggs, sandwiches and bought stuffed churros. We got well inside the beach to catch the biggest wave. We play cards and return to Santiago to give away. He hit me on the head, like the abusive one he always was while my mother watched us happily.

But the visit was short ... we had to say goodbye, we hugged him tight. We went to leave by taxi to the entrance of the cemetery and before seeing him disappear he told us that he would come to look for us when it was our time.

Over time, together with my mother we put together a pastry shop and left that place.

Years went by, and life with her became more than a habit, for some reason I felt the need to never detach myself from her bosom. But one day, I saw her fall alone at the entrance of the room, suffered from constant dizziness, and ended up in bed because of the pain in her body. The truth is that it showed that he had little time left.

Suddenly, a car was heard that was parked outside, and when I saw my brother raising my hand to greet me, I decided to close the door with a latch.

• What happens to you ?! - I wonder.
• Get out of here!

My mother from the bed heard her voice.

• Son Is it your brother who is hitting?
• No ... it's nobody.

And this was noted.

• Weón, open the door if you don't want to get the crest out of you as usual!

He was no longer welcome, not now, maybe later. But Richard insisted. It was logical ... he wanted to take her.
I thought that at some point he would get bored and leave with that taxi, however, he would not stop.

• Son, don't be rude and let your brother in.
• No ... if he already left.
• Opens! - he shouted from outside.

My mother took me by the hand.

• I love you.
• Mom, no. If Richard can come another day.
• Son ... I'm suffering.

What else was I going to do about that phrase? I started crying on her belly while listening to the insistent knocks on the door and the loud honking of the taxi. I got up, opened and Richard entered. He sat next to his bed and kissed his forehead.

• Pucha viejita, who has touched you hard - he said.
• Yes I know.
• Come on? The taxi is outside, I will get more expensive because of this one.

Between the two of us we picked her up and put her in the car. I sat with them behind to go leave them. My old woman put her head on my chest. My tears scattered, and the music of the radio taxi. I watched the landscapes go by, taking everything else. When we arrived, they went down, and from the window I raised their hands to say goodbye.

• And you, who stay behind? - the taxi driver asked me while looking at me from the rearview mirror.

• Ah ?! No, let's go no more, I'd rather say goodbye from here.

• Say goodbye? ... If you go with them.

• That? No, if I'm fine, it's not my time yet.

• No?

And everything came back to me ... it couldn't be ... as I never remembered. It was that August 23. He was shot in the head and when I was hugging him, then I didn't see the next bullet coming.

• And why I was not with him all this time?
• Believe me that this woman suffered more for you than for him. He could be stripped of him, never of you.

Author: The draft