Jeffrey Ibarra, '17

The Spirit of Carlos

     It all started with a phone call from my best friend's mother on July 15, 2011. I had just finished playing a soccer game against my rival team . We won 3-2; it was a really intense game. She called to tell me that my best friend, Carlos, had committed suicide. I ran straight to her home and saw the body hanging in a closet. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I gave up and accepted the fact that he was gone, as I held him tight in my arms. From that moment, my life would never be the same again.

     I remember the first day we met. I had just moved to 117 street and I was around 7 to 8 years old. Carlos was outside kicking a ball but had a look as if he was not having a great time. He had a bronze colored ball which was quite similar to the hue of his blonde hair. He was wearing shorts and an official Mexico jersey, just like the one I had asked my mother to buy me despite our tight family budget.

     It was a beautiful day when I met Carlos; birds were chirping and the sun was shining bright. My mother had asked me to buy some milk at the corner store. As I was walking, two kids around the age of 11 stopped me. The kid on the left wore basketball attire with the latest Jordans while the kid on the right was wearing Nike shoes with sweats and a tank top. They asked me where I was going and stared at the money I was carrying in my hand. I was new to the neighborhood and assumed they were nice kids. I told them I was going to the store. As soon as the last word came out of my mouth, the kid on the right tried to snatch the money from my hand. When I realized what their true intentions were, I tried to run back home but failed as the kid with Jordan's tripped me before I had a chance.

     On the ground, I could hear the blood dripping from my elbows as it pounded against the concrete. They demanded money, to which I responded, No!, knowing that my mother would hit me for coming home with nothing and for letting someone else take my money. Their faces resembled the ones I used to see in movies when a villain didn't get what he wanted. Out of nowhere, I felt a strong kick in the stomach and I realized I was being jumped for the five dollars I had in my hand. All I could do was to hold on tight to that money and put my arms tight around my face.

     All hope seemed lost, until I realized that the kicking had stopped. Looking around to see what was going on, I saw another boy trying to defend me by kicking his ball at one of the kids' faces and trying to fight the other. It wasn't long before the other kid regained the feeling in his face and gained his eyesight back. Furious, he grabbed the new kid from behind, slammed him to the ground and the two of them started to kick him. Witnessing this gave me the confidence and bravery to help him out, just like he had done for me. I tried to help out by jumping on one of the the assailant's back and covering his eyes. I underestimated his strength. He flipped me onto the ground and between the two of them they kicked us and ended up walking away with the money.

     Exhausted from the fight, we were slow to get up and silently walk back home. When we had reached my building, we finally introduced ourselves. He filled me in on those kids and their bullying and how he felt bad for not being able to assist me. I told him not to worry about it and that it was the thought that counted. I told him I was mostly concerned with the way my mother would react when she saw me coming home with no money or milk. Wanting to help, he asked me to follow him.

     Surprisingly, he lead me directly to his building, which was right next to mine. His apartment was definitely bigger than mine, with three rooms, a kitchen, a living room, and two bathrooms. Mine was small, with only a living room and a bathroom. Curious about the size of his apartment, I asked him if he was rich and he told me not at all. We walked to his kitchen and handed me a brand new gallon of milk. I tried to refuse his offer, but he insisted. I was fortunate because that day he had gone grocery shopping with his mother. I asked him what he was going to tell his parents and he said that that he would come up with something. Carlos walked me back to my building and said goodbye. With a smile on my face I said thank you and waved goodbye. I would never forget this.

     From that moment on, it was rare for us not to be together. We would talk about our families, our day at school, and our problems. Our mothers were very close as well, which was good because when they did things together, like shopping, they would drag us along with them, which gave us more time to hang out. As we grew older, I was going through many problems such as bullying, girlfriend problems, and the need for a father figure. But I was okay knowing that I could count on Carlos for anything and everything.

     Soon, the problems I had before started to come back, putting more pressure on me. It was so hard for me to stay focused that my grades started dropping. I couldn't take it anymore, I needed him. Despite not being able to solve all my problems, he was still able to raise my self-esteem just by talking and giving me advice about the dilemmas I was having.

     Just when I was going to give up, I had a dream of a memory that Carlos and I once shared. It was a regular day. We were 15 years old and we were in front of his building. Kids were playing across the street at the park and he opened up a conversation with a question. He asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up. I told him I wanted to be someone successful, someone who earned a lot of money to be able to support my family. He liked my answer and showed it with a smile I had never seen before. He told me I could achieve anything I wanted, I had the potential and that I should never give up on it. I told him I wouldn't. He told me to promise him and before I could ask him why, he said just do it for me. The promise was made and he gave me a hug, told me that life depends on the person not the people surrounding that person. I never knew what he meant.

     Immediately I woke up and found myself crying, but these weren't the same tears that came out when I was depressed, they were tears of joy. At that point I realized Carlos was right and I finally understood what he meant that day. In order to keep that promise I had to make changes in my life and grow up. I had to act my age and be more mature. I had to become independent and successful to make both my family and those who cared about me, such as Carlos, proud of me. From that day on I started making decisions on my own and stood up for what was right. I was able to handle dilemmas more on my own, such as bullying, finding different ways to help my mother out, and mostly doing things on my own. Before I knew it I was here at Holy Cross on a journey to keep that promise that was made three years ago.