me refuse to throw them away,” Mom replied.
Inside was a Christmas card.
The message was brief.
Manuel,
I don’t know whether we still have time to become brothers again.
If you ever decide we do, this address will reach me.
Luis.
I looked at Dad.
“Seven years.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever write back?”
“No.”
“Why?”
He gave me a tired smile.
“I believe we have already established that your father can be an idiot.”
Mom patted his shoulder.
“Progress.”
We laughed.
Even Dad.
That was how Luis entered
