MC Quixote

Tío Robo (I miss my friends and family) Part 40

When the Bolaño family was living in Mexico, it seemed like an endless run of weekend barbeques together. My cousin Isabela and I would play, and the parents would cook outside, eat, drink, smoke, and listen to music.

Thinking back, I feel bad for my cousin Pablo. He's a couple of years younger than Isabela and me, so he took quite a bit of abuse - mostly in the form of making him wear dresses and pretend he was our daughter. He was always a good sport about it, and most of the time he seemed to be having fun. Those barbeques were great times, which were cut short because the Bolaños moved to Spain.

They would still make it to Mexico City two to three times a year, and whenever they did, it was sure to be a huge party. It became a family ritual to go out to the airport and pick them up, and I started to notice the number of people with cameras and microphones was increasing with each visit. I began to realize Tío Robo was becoming famous.

The Bolaños had been staying with us until Tío Robo started getting free hotel rooms and then we'd stay in the different hotels. All of us kids got our own room, but we'd spend most of our time in the hotel swimming pool.

Isabela and I have always been close, and we've kept contact with each other via Facebook. We post pictures back and forth and try to share some of the beauty and the pain we face day-to-day.

And then, there's the giant elephant in the room we never talk about, Tío Robo. I feel like I can't talk about him if she doesn't bring it up, and the fact that she doesn't ever bring her dad up, makes it seem even more awkward.

I started to see this change in Isabela when Tío Robo was getting more recognition for his stories. It was kind of like she didn't like it. It makes sense, he probably wasn't as available to her. Then, shortly after his rise to fame, he dies. I can't image the kind of pain one feels to lose their father. And it seems even more tragic because he worked so hard as a writer, and just when he started getting some of the recognition he deserved, he passes away waiting for a liver transplant. It's not fair! A tragedy.

I love reading Tío Robo's stories and poems. I read some of them over and over. But I know not to bring that stuff up with Isabela because it seems like it's too hard for her to go there.

And it's strange, every time I go to a bookshop, it seems like there's a newly published Tío Robo book. I mean, I can count at least six books released after his death. How is that even possible? Maybe he had notebooks and notebooks full of writings that were never published? Sometimes I think he's still secretly alive, and he faked his death when the fame started to interfere with his life and freedom.

It's possible; Tío Robo was a clever guy. He was a magician, really; he had these magic tricks he'd always pull off for us. He did these tricks with various props he'd find in our house. He always had a new trick, one step ahead of the rest of us.

He could take a wine glass, wrap it in a handkerchief, smash it on a table with a cutting board, pull the hanky out from under the cutting board, and there'd be no trace of the glass, not a single shard, nothing. I still can't figure out how he did that one.

My favorite story is The Savage Detectives. Why? I like that the first half of it that takes place in Mexico City. Tío Robo gives the street addresses throughout the city with specific names of all the locations where the story takes place. All of the locations seem like places where Tío Robo used to hang out when he was a dangerous, young poet of Mexico City. I love the descriptions of all these down-and-out bohemian places filled with life, a string of 24-hour cafes and bars always teaming with freaky, creative, eccentrics, who don't seem to sleep at night.

And it seems like one of the main characters in the book is Tío Robo, back when he was coming of age in DF. I can totally see him at Café Popular, one AM, nodding to the waitress to signal when to stop the pouring the café from the large steel kettle and top off the glass with hot leche from the other steel kettle she's holding.