“Sure,” she said. They each grabbed a drink from the bar and made their way through the mirrored lobby of the catering hall, out to the parking lot, which overlooked Sheepshead Bay. They sat on the front steps of the venue, out of earshot of the valets. The carpark was brightly lit and she could, for the first time, see how bad her brother looked. His eyes dark with exhaustion, the emotion drained from his face. She understood immediately that his cheer had been put on for the day. A show for everyone else.
“Prieto. What’s wrong?”
Her brother buried his face in his hands.
“Olga. Fuck. I don’t even know where to start. I know you’re still heated with me about last weekend—but fuck. Fuck. I have this whole other problem and I don’t know who to talk to because I can’t fucking talk to anyone about this.”
Any sense of misgiving she’d had towards Prieto was now pushed away by the sense of contrition she’d been feeling since their fight. Truthfully speaking, after her conversation with Tía Lola she reassessed and regretted the harshness with which she’d judged her brother’s personal choices. She thought about Jan’s sister at the funeral. At the end of the day, however much her brother wanted to reveal about his sexuality was his choice, and she’d support that.
“Look,” she said, “about the other day. The truth is, it doesn’t matter who you—”
“Olga, I’m worried I’ve got AIDS.” He buried his face back in his hands again, and she could see him shuddering.
“Prieto. What happened?” Though it immediately became clear to her. His reaction to Jan’s death had been strange. Disproportionate. She just couldn’t imagine when they would have gotten together.
Her brother looked at her.
“It was just one time. After your birthday party.”
“No rubber?” she asked.
Prieto shook his head no.
“Ay, bendito, I’m certainly not one to judge, because I’ve taken my chances, but for a guy trying to stay in the closet…”
“Please, don’t.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry.” She put her hand on her brother’s knee and patted it. “Have you taken a test yet?”
He shook his head again.
“I’m scared. Of a leak. I don’t know who I trust.”
“Okay,” Olga replied quietly, her wheels turning.
“I, uh, had an idea though. Like, do a public health day in Sunset. A ‘know your status’ kind of thing, and—”
“Prieto, get the fuck out of here! You can’t do something like this in public! That is one of the craziest ideas I’ve ever heard.”
“Well, ?co?o! What should I do then?”
She was silent for a moment.
“I’ll ask my gyno to do it. She’s an old client, she’ll do me the solid.”
He sighed and put his arm around her, drawing her close and kissing her head.
“But we have to take care of it this week, you hear me?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Fuck.”
In that moment all Olga wanted to do was to quell what she knew must be her brother’s fears. To be there for him, completely. To do so, she realized, she must first clear the fog of doubt that Reggie had cast over him.
“Prieto,” Olga said gently. “I’ve got to ask you something. When was the last time you saw Auntie Karen?”
He looked her in the eyes for a moment without saying anything.
“How do you know about that?”
Olga wasn’t quite sure how to answer, how much to reveal. Before she could though, Prieto continued: “Mami’s been pissed at me since the PROMESA vote. She’d been lobbying hard for me to vote the other way. I figured she’d be upset, but”—his voice began to break with emotion—“I haven’t heard from her in over a year. So, you know, then I, uh, canceled that hearing—the one Reggie’d been all up in arms about. After, I, uh, got this box in the mail. Anyway, it was obviously from Mami. If not directly, indirectly, you know?”
“Wait? No. What was in the box?”
Prieto scoffed and shook his head. “Worms. She sent me a fucking box of worms. Sometimes I wonder if maybe she’s just fucking crazy.…”
He let out a slightly bitter laugh, but his sister could not join him because a chill had come over her. The sense of fear that had been lingering in the back of her mind about Los Pa?uelos returned, now a concretely formed thing. Lombriz. She knew, as well as her brother did, what the worms meant. Somehow, this information framed everything else—Reggie’s presence at the fundraiser, the timing of her mother’s approach, the demand for her secrecy—far more ominously.