The compressed air continued to moan in the pipes. Despite himself his hand went out to the pocket watch, his fingers nervously touching the embossed angels on the tarnished silver lid until he opened the watch and stared through the old-fashioned Roman numeraled face into events he desperately did not want to recall.

The pattern had been established when Rafael was five and Guillermo was seven.

Leo, the family handy man—a large, shambling human animal who loved him—tried to tell him one day after he caught Rafael prepared to leave a second-story window equipped with paper wings Guillermo had tied to his shoulders.

“He will be your ruin, that little bastard, may your mother forgive me,” Leo said, spitting through the open window. “Never listen to him, remember what I tell you.”

But Guillermo was always so interesting to listen to.

Weeks later, “I have something,” he said.

“Let me see.”

“It is a place.”

“Take me.”

“It is a place for big boys. You still siss your pants.”

“No,” Rafael said hotly, afraid he was going to cry, feeling the little tug in his groin right this minute, remembering that only three days before he had not made it to the bathroom in time.

“It’s a wonderful place. But I don’t think you’re a big enough boy for me to take you. If you siss your pants there the old lady witch will get you. She turns herself into any animal she wants. And then it’s goodbye.”

“You’re fooling me.”

“I’m not. But it’s a great place.”

Rafael was silent. “Have you seen her?” he asked finally.

Guillermo glared at him. “I never siss my pants.”

They played, after a while wandering into their parents’ room. Guillermo stood on the bed to reach the top drawer of the bureau and took out the red-velvet box in which the watch was placed by their father each night and from which it was removed each morning.

He opened it and banged it shut, open and shut, a satisfying noise.

“You will be punished,” Rafael said.

Guillermo made a rude noise. “I can touch it because it will be mine.” The watch was passed on to the elder son, as had been explained to the boys. Nevertheless, he replaced it in the drawer and strolled back to his room, Rafael trailing.

“Take me, Guillermo. Please.”

“What will you give me?”

Rafael shrugged. His brother chose the three toys he knew were closest to the smaller boy’s heart: a red soldier, a picture book about a sad clown, a teddy bear named Fabio, hunchbacked because he clutched it so tightly when he slept with it every night.

“Not the bear.”

Guillermo gave him a look as hard as a marble and then agreed.