I'm an idiot.
I'm just gonna go ahead and put it out there..
I, Anna Soria, am an idiot.

There are many things I am.
There are many things I could be.
There are so many things I long to be.

 Idiot..is not one of the things I desire to be.

Here I am, sitting, searching, looking for a brother that Ive never met and am not even sure what his name is. Today isn't the first day I've looked for him, Leo, that's what my cousin said his name was. My older cousin, Annie, she knows Leo's mom. Annie knows where they live. Annie knows, I know Annie's phone number, I don't call. I'm not an idiot..I'm scared.

Why?

What if he hates me? What if he looks just like my dad? What if this is all some big huge misunderstanding and I am freaking out over nothing? What if it's not true? What if it is true?
What do I do with an 18 year old brother? How do I explain to him that I never knew about him? That on his death bed my father never acknowledged him? I have bad luck..he's gonna ask me..like he'd have a conversation with Joe? Anybody else having a flash of all sorts of awkward? Because I am.

I need therapy. 

Actually, I don't need therapy.
I need to start telling myself the truth.
Actually see things for what they are..
See that I'm not an idiot but that I'm scared of an 18yr old kid that may or may not be my brother, whom I've never met. See that there is SO much about my dad that I don't know and it's scary to me. What if there are more? 

I grew up a basically an only child.. They say that kids more than 5 yrs apart tend to behave as only children..I don't know. I sort of identified with the only child thing..I felt alone a lot. I always knew Joe was there..but he only liked to torment me. I was always Joe (Sir-ee-ya)'s little sister..Anna (Soar-ee-uh). I wanted to have a little brother or sister to torment too. I wanted to be their coach for soccer and be cool and to teach how to do fun things when my parents weren't around. I gave up hope at some point that my wish would ever come true. There would never be a littler Soria sibling.. *sigh

-FlashBack-

2004

Sitting at work..
I had called my dad's house for some reason I cannot remember. Elena, his wife answers the phone, "Bueno?" I froze..uhhh..what do I say? " Umm, puedo llamar con Trini, por favor?" 
What?
What the hell did I just say? Idiot?
I'm lucky "Donde esta la biblioteca?" wasn't my response. Anyway..somehow Elena figured out what the Gringa was looking for. My dad wasn't home, he was at work, I was shocked. She starts telling me how much she wants to meet me and the pictures and Joe, and Ethan and blah blah blah..can't wait for you to meet your brother..

What the? 

"I'm sorry, did you just say MEET my brother? You mean Joe? Because (insert my famous sarcasm) I've met him before.."

"no, your brother, Marco."

Polo? What is this lady talking about? If I had another brother I would know about it my family doesn't keep secrets and live passive aggressive life styles...oh shit. 

Phone list..
1) for sure brother..Joe. No answer.
2) mom..would she know? Skip.
3) grandpa? Hmmm..let's try.

"Hey grandpa..funny story..do I have another brother who is like 2?" 

Silence. Grandpa says to Call Joe..I call my mom. Mom says call Joe. Call Joe.

Joe, ummm...do we have a brother, named Marco? Who is two..

The expectation: that's funny! Who is screwing with you?? Let's all laugh and be merry!

The reality: silence, the sigh, the questioned response of "who told you?"

-flash forward-

This couldn't possibly happening to me twice? 
I think my father brought his love for Mexican soap operas to a whole new real world level..ay dios.

Just another reason not to sleep..