He went to the pension on the Rua Tamandaré and learned that his brother had abandoned his room with no explanation, without even paying for it. He went into Omar’s room and saw an empty suitcase on the floor, the clothes hanging on makeshift hangers, and a map of the United States on the writing desk. No note, not a word, not a sign. Yaqub thought there might have been an accident, a disaster. He looked for his brother in the hospitals, police stations, and morgues of São Paulo. His wife advised him: “Whatever you do, don’t mention his disappearance to your parents. He’ll come back. If he doesn’t, it’s not your fault.”

They thought he might come back at any moment; they might as well wait one or two weeks. Boxes of sweets went on arriving from Manaus. In December they got the first postcard.

5

5

Incredible things happened in Omar’s life, or he let them happen, as if welcoming any opportunity for adventure with open arms. Some people are like that. They don’t even need to go looking for life’s unpredictable side; they just let themselves be swept along by chance, or anything unusual that happens.

Yaqub only revealed the truth about his brother when he visited the family for the first time since he’d left for São Paulo.

When I found out he was coming, I had a strange sensation, and got quite agitated. The image they gave of him was of a perfect being, or someone in search of perfection. I thought about this: if he’s my father, then I’m the son of an almost perfect man. I was never worried by his expertise, or felt threatened by it. I thought of him as a determined man, respected at home, even praised by his father, who had no idea what his son was aiming for. Once, Halim told me Yaqub could hide everything: he was a man who would never lay himself bare; there were no chinks in his armor. You can expect anything of a son like that, his father said. Omar, on the other hand, laid himself completely open, and this was Zana’s greatest weapon. I tried to find out which of the two had attracted my mother. I could see Domingas got nervous when Omar called me in arrogant tones and sent me with a message to the other end of the city. He even took advantage of Zana’s protection to raise his voice, but when Halim was around he didn’t dare, which was a relief for my mother. Now, with Yaqub’s visit, she never let me out of her sight. When Yaqub saw me in the garden, holding hands with Domingas, he looked embarrassed, and didn’t know who to embrace first. I was as happy as I was surprised. He embraced my mother, and I felt her hand sweaty and trembling, gripping my fingers. I had a vague memory of his voice, because he used to come into my mother’s room and say things, words I didn’t understand. What I do remember, very well, is the question Domingas asked him when she learned he was going to São Paulo. “Are you going to take that girl with you?” my mother asked several times. He didn’t answer, and left the room without saying anything. Years later, my mother revealed who the girl was and told me Omar had cut his brother’s face because of her.