Miguel Salcedo

Miguel Salcedo is the narrator’s childhood antagonist turned lifelong friend, distinguished by two acts of loyalty: confessing that he started their first fight and later helping the narrator through a painful funeral. His role links the narrator’s inexplicable, bodily anger to a friendship built not on winning but on acknowledging what happened and standing by one another afterward.

Identity and First Encounter

The narrator remembers himself as a cautious, solitary child, raised among adults and accustomed to avoiding fights. When he was eleven, Miguel, the class bully who had not spoken to him since their first day of school, singled him out in the playground. Miguel’s name marks the beginning of a recurring pattern in the narrator’s friendships: his closest companions tend to be smaller and stronger than he is, and more capable in a fight.

The Playground Fight

Miguel threw three small stones at the narrator, striking his back, calf, and nape. The narrator saw a blinding white light between his eyebrows, a precursor to anger that seemed to slow the world around him. He carefully removed and set down his glasses, then crossed the playground at speed and knocked Miguel to the ground with a headbutt. The narrator remained unhurt; Miguel had blood on his lower lip.

From Antagonist to Friend

In the headmaster’s office, Miguel had the courage to admit that he had started the fight. The confession did not spare either boy an equal punishment, but it gave them the chance to become friends. Miguel thereby inaugurates a long tradition in the narrator’s life: his best friends are better fighters, yet none possesses half the ferocity that overtakes him when the white light appears.

A Friendship Recalled at a Funeral

Years later, at the narrator’s grandfather’s funeral, Miguel again supports him at a moment of grief. The ceremony has no priest; its moving speeches include a farewell letter that the narrator cannot finish reading. Miguel takes the letter from his hands and reads the central paragraphs in his place, allowing him time to cry and recover, then returns it so he can read the ending himself. The gesture echoes his earlier admission: Miguel does not erase the narrator’s pain, but helps him endure it without taking the moment away from him.