Boy overheard his father, Conrado, talk to his sisters about his uncle, Emanual, who went to the bola when he was a young teenager.
“I’d never met him. Just heard about him from mamá. That he was funny and quick-witted. He always had the last word. Was always up to something. And that one day he went off with a pack of new friends he made in OJ and never came back,” Boy’s father told his sisters.
The subject came up because word had spread that Emanuel had returned to OJ and was holding court at the old Cantina El Espejo (The Mirror).
“You should go to El Espejo and see if it’s really him,” his big sister told him in the company of his other older sister and a brother, Emanuel, who was younger than Conrado and was named after their uncle.
“Chale. You go. I don’t want to go spend time with somebody who went to the bola and abandoned his family,” Conrado said.
“Pos we can’t go into a cantina, Conrado. Only you can. Take Emanuel so he meets his namesake,” his sister insisted.
“Nel. I have children of my own now and have no business talking to a trickster in a cantina,” Conrado said.
“I wanna meet him. I wanna know the man I was named after,” Emanuel said.
Conrado looked over at his younger brother, took a long deep breath and sighed.
“Órale pues. Vámos. But anything gets weird, le pones,” Conrado adverted his brother.
They immediately found their uncle. He was leaning against the bar of the cantina with a group of men—young and old— standing around him and laughing. The elder Emanuel cracked old-style jokes and wisecracks.
“We barely survived that cold, cold night. When the sun came up in the morning and warmed things up, the mules we’d been leading dropped dead on the ground. They’d frozen stiff over night and fell over when they began to melt,” he said to guffaws of disbelief.
“This has to be him,” Conrado said out loud to Emanual.
The man at the center of the laughter noticed them. Though charming, he was pale and weathered— old-looking.
“Who are you, chavos?” he asked them.
“I’m Conrado and this is Emanuel. You know who we are?” Conrado said.
“You’re me when I was young,” the man said.
“No, we’re not. We didn’t go to the bola. We stayed and helped our kin,” Conrado retorted.
“Then help your kin now and give me 10 bolas now that you’re in the bola with me,” the mand said.
“Vamonos, Emanuel, this vato is puro (just) bola,” Conrado said to his brother.
This story was made possible by generous donations from supporters like you. Please consider showing your support with a contribution today. Donate here: marfapublicradio.org/donate
