“It’s just what I said to Reggie—it’s ceremonial, we have no real authority. What’s the point of wasting everyone’s time just for them to pay us lip service? The president appointed these people and we can’t fire them. Puerto Rico got screwed with this whole thing, but what choice did we really have, right? They had this massive debt. We couldn’t let them default, for any number of infrastructure reasons; if they defaulted, they would have to shut the power company and we literally wouldn’t be able to keep the lights on for the people there. PROMESA, and this oversight board, was the only structure the Dems and R’s could agree on.
“Of course, the people on the island, and people like you and me, and I mean, I guess Reggie, since he’s all down with la raza now—we know that this mess is the result of fucked-up colonial policies that leave them victims to the mainland’s whims. But, to the rest of America? Puerto Ricans look like they just can’t handle the little bit of government we’ve been given. So, to me, I didn’t feel like it helped our cause to let this figurehead get in front of my committee just to make us look like we can’t manage our bills without help. And, as you know, optics are what win the day, right?”
Her brother’s demeanor had been relaxed through his whole reply. His white knuckles from moments earlier gone from the steering wheel. He was thoughtful and his argument lucid. But she noticed he never once broke his eyes from the road as he delivered his soliloquy.
“So, listen. Mabel said after the wedding she and Julio are moving out?” Olga asked, changing topics. She had another item on her agenda with her brother, and this seemed a good time.
“Ya. You know Mabel. She’s been paying, what? Like four hundred dollars a month for the past five years. Taking trips with all the scrilla she’s saving, buying every Coach bag she can get her hands on, and now that she’s gonna be married, she’s too good for the place. Says she and Julio can’t be in some shitty rental in Sunset Park.”
“That bitch has never even paid market rent!” Olga laughed. “Let me guess. They’re moving to Long Island?”
“You know it! Bay Shore. ‘Es classy, Prieto. Lots of little bars y lounges, not like here.’”
“Ah, well, she’s nothing if not predictable, right?”
The siblings belly laughed.
“Anyway,” Olga continued, “I guess that means the apartment is available again.”
“Why?” Prieto asked. “You wanna move back? Because I was figuring Tony was gonna ask for it.”
“Me?” Olga asked, slightly wistful at the idea. “No. I’m fine where I am, but I saw a friend of mine today, he’s in a bit of a hard way. I’d like to do him the solid and let him take the place to get on his feet for a year or so.”
“Oh yeah?” Prieto asked. “What friend did you see today? Because I know Reggie’s not looking for a two-bedroom walk-up in Sunset.”
“Do you remember my friend Jan? You met him at my birthday thing last year?”
“Um, I don’t know. I meet so many people. Polish?”
“Yeah. That’s him. Well, not to be morbid, but he died. Anyway, he had this long-term boyfriend, this guy named Christian—”
“What the fuck? That guy died?”
“Jan? Yes. See, you do remember him,” Olga noted. “It was really shocking. So, and I should have thought of this, but basically Christian has been trying to cover—”
“Wait, Olga. This guy died. Out of nowhere?”
Olga glanced at her brother from the corner of her eye. He was agitated.
“Jesus,” she said. “Calm down. You only met him for five minutes.”
“He’s a young guy, Olga. My age.” He was speaking quickly. “All of a sudden he’s just dead? Yeah, it’s a little shocking. It doesn’t happen for no reason.”
“Well, that’s true.” For a second she paused. This had clearly touched a nerve. “So, ugh. It’s so sad. Not to make this story worse, but he’d tested HIV positive and I guess—”
“He died of fucking AIDS?” Prieto banged the steering wheel.
“Prieto! Why are you so hyper? Let me finish the fucking story!”
“He was just … he was just so young, Olga.”
Olga eyed her brother, trying to size up this response that had taken her by surprise.
“Super funny guy,” Prieto offered as he looked out to the road. It was dusk now, the night sky going pink into mauve, the streetlamps on the LIE illuminated against it. “Just such a sharp sense of humor. I cannot believe he died of fucking AIDS.”