Chapter 4 - The Brother’s Return
The long-distance bus from Guadalajara pulled into the Terminal de Autobuses del Sur at six in the evening.
Julian was waiting near the arrival gates, his eyes rimmed with red, clutching a paper cup of cold coffee. When he saw Mateo step off the bus, a wave of relief washed over him so intense he almost felt lightheaded.
Mateo was four years older than Julian, taller, broader, with a thick beard and the hardened look of a man who worked construction in the heat of Jalisco. Four years ago, Mateo had left Mexico City after Doña Carmen tried to ruin his engagement to his now-wife, Ana, by spreading rumors around their neighborhood that Ana was unfaithful. Mateo had cut all ties, refusing to speak to Doña Carmen ever since. At the time, Julian had thought Mateo was being stubborn and cruel to their mother.
Now, Julian felt sick with guilt for ever doubting his brother.
"Mateo," Julian said, stepping forward.
Mateo didn't say a word. He pulled Julian into a tight, crushing bear hug, patting his back hard. "I'm here, lil' brother. I'm here."
They walked to a small diner outside the station, ordering two plates of tacos that neither of them touched. Julian poured his heart out—telling Mateo everything about Mariana’s injuries, the fall down the basement stairs, the sulfur ointment, the lock change, and the hospital report.
Mateo listened in total silence, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. He kept his hands flat on the table, his knuckles turning white.
"She hasn't changed," Mateo said quietly when Julian finished speaking. "Not a single bit. She did the same thing to Ana, Julian. She used to come to our house while I was at work, telling Ana she wasn't good enough, giving her herb mixtures that made her sick, telling her she was lazy. When I confronted Carmen back then, she played the victim, cried, and convinced you and Uncle Hector that I was an abusive son."
"I'm so sorry, Mateo," Julian whispered, staring down at the table. "I took her side back then. I thought you were breaking her heart."
"You were young, Julian. And she raised us to believe that disobeying her was a sin against God," Mateo said, reaching across the table to grab Julian’s shoulder. "But that ends today. How is Mariana?"
"The doctors say the antibiotics are working, but she needs bed rest for at least a month. She can't walk properly yet. And we have nowhere to go when they discharge her in two days."
Mateo pulled out his leather wallet, pulled out a key, and laid it on the table.
"What's this?" Julian asked.
"I own a small two-bedroom house in Nezahualcóyotl," Mateo explained. "I bought it as an investment property two years ago. It’s furnished, ground floor, no stairs. It’s empty right now because the previous tenant just moved out. It’s yours for as long as you need it, Julian. No rent. No conditions."
Julian stared at the key, tears welling up in his eyes once more. "Mateo... I can't accept that..."
"Shut up," Mateo said, a small, warm smile cracking through his stern face. "You're my brother. And that baby inside Mariana is my nephew or niece. Family actually means something, Julian—just not the sick version of family Carmen taught us."
Julian took the key, holding it tight in his fist like a lifeline. "Thank you... thank you, brother."
"Now," Mateo said, his warm smile instantly vanishing, replaced by a cold, sharp glare. "We have one more thing to do before we go back to the hospital."
"What?"
"We are going to the police station," Mateo said, standing up from the diner table. "You have the hospital medical report, right? The doctor's notes about the restraint burns and the infected wounds?"
May you like
Julian nodded, pulling the envelope from his jacket pocket.
"Good," Mateo said, strapping his duffel bag over his shoulder. "Doña Carmen thinks she’s above the law because she’s a mother. Let's see how much power she has when a judge reads a medical report of elder and pregnant abuse."
