Two Brothers, Two Sisters

Written 06-07-14 The two brothers had the same childhood but you wouldn't know it, is what Sandra who was married to the young one, Pablo, always thought, when the old one, Pedro,got home drunk from the bar. The brothers' Abuela said as much when Sandra stopped to see her at the diner, when they stood outside so Abuela could smoke her cigarette on her break.
Sandra went to see her because she wanted to think with her about Pedro's drinking, mainly because the drinking was getting her Pablo down.
Sandra knew how much having a sibling who was struggling could get you down. She'd taught herself to stop thinking about her own sister Cynthia now that she'd given up trying to get her off the street.
"You don't know how your children will turn out, "Abuela said. "You do the best you can and then you pray oppression doesn't get them." Abuela burst into tears right then. Sandra didn't want to make her cry.
"I thought I did everything right." I thought because I was a revolutionary, because I gave my sons politics, they were going to be OK. Oppression wasn't going to get them. Politics was supposed to be like a vaccine."
Sandra put her arms around Abuela. Instead of Abuela making her feel better it was going to be her turn to make the older woman get her head out of her butt. Why was it always the women who had to do that?
She saw it very clearly. No lone Abuela, no lone Sandra, could get Pedro out of the bar or Cynthia off the street. She remembered what Pablo said. "It's going to take a movement."
Abuela tossed the cigartee on the ground, crushed the butt with her foot, and shurgged. "We'll have to sweep it up later." She went back into the diner through the kitchen. Sandra watched her disappear through the double door.
That was the night Pedro and Pablo had the huge fist fight. When she got home they were right in it, rolling on the floor, punching each other, evenly matched. Pablo screamed at his brother Pedro, "You should be at the rally."

Arriba los pobres del mundo
de pie los exclavos sin pan
Arise ye wretched of the earth...Just before he remembered the words Pablo beat up Pedro. He beat hiim up in the woods behind the wilderness, which was really the patch of woods in the park they used to call the wilderness when they were boys. Pablo beat up Pedro because he'd had it with Pedro's drinking. The fight had started in the living room and when Sandra came home she kicked them ouf of he house before the room was completely trashed.
They got themselves to the park and then the fist fight started up again when Pablo started in on Pedro about the drinking. In the living room the fist fight had gone nowhere because Pedro was still drunk. By they time they walked the mile to the park, Pedro was sober.
"You're my kid brother. You don't tell me waht to do. You gotta respect me.
Pedro rolled Pablo in the grit and the branches. Pablo flipped Pedro. He pinned him to the ground. They were face to face, breathing each other's breath. Just at that moment someone walked by whisling on the other side of the patch of trees. Pedro recognized the song. Abuela used to sing it when she was cleaning and she got inspired. And they sang it at the rallies she took them to as boys. "Arriba los pobres del mundo, de pie los esclavos sin pan..."