It is a shame. I recall when he last came to visit us he seemed a sweet well-behaved boy, if a little shy, though after an initial timidity he came to enjoy playing with the Filipino children and especially took a liking to the animals on the farm such as a particular carabao he named Emilio and became upset when he was told he could not bring it home. Your Tita Effre gave him a wooden water buffalo to console him but he smashed it against a wall. I was surprised, but it has since occurred to me that sometimes the quiet ones have the more mysterious anxieties inside that are difficult for the rest of us to understand. If he will sign a promise to obey me, I will have him in the house. Otherwise, I would like to separate him from his younger brother and focus on Gabe.

I will call you when I get further word from Father Reyoso on the status of his inquiries. In the meantime your youngest son will have a place in our prayers.

Your brother
Betino

VI

He comes to me when I am out back playing with Greta, scratching her behind the ear and getting ready to take her for a walk.

Come on, he says.

I am kneeling by her, the warmth of her fur coming through my jeans, and he stands high above me. His face is silhouetted by the blue sky. Behind him a skywriter has left a trail of white clouds, the ghostlike etchings of blurred words I can no longer understand.

Where?

What do you mean where? Don’t you worry about that.

I do not move.

Is it to train a dog?

He looks annoyed. The muscles along his forearms tense.

No, it’s not to train a dog. Now get your ass in gear, Junior.

I shake my head, one bony elbow supporting my weight on my knee.

I’m not going.

I can feel him wanting to take a step forward. Greta senses this too and her body tenses beside me. Tomas holds back, not wanting to hit me in front of one of the dogs. They are loyal dogs and dependable, and though they are really his dogs, you could never know what would happen if two brothers started fighting. He knows that I know this and he looks away a moment, then turns back again.

I don’t care what you want to do. You still owe me for Buster.

Greta’s chest heaves and I can feel her rapid breathing.