Ray’s reunion with Frankie and Kenny made him aware of the strong bond that still existed between them. A bond thatwas stronger than it had been before the assault that had left him partially blind in his left eye. He teased Kenny that he was better-looking in his glasses because of the slightly tinted blue lenses that concealed the damage to his cornea.
He joked with his friends, saying they had become sellouts because now they were a part of the establishment they’d once railed against. Missing were the long hair, beards, and loose-fitting attire favored by flower children. They had agreed to disband their first-of-the-month Saturday breakfasts but promised to keep in touch.
The last time he saw Frankie and Kenny was at Francis D’Allesandro’s funeral mass when he assisted Father Ralph Morelli, who’d come to the hospital to see Ray and give him the sacraments of Anointing of the sick, Reconciliation, and the Eucharist. Six months later, the priest had become Ray’s confidante, confessor, and mentor.
Seeing Migdalia with his son reminded Ray that he had to call his friends and ask for their advice, something he hadn’t done in a very long time. He was reaching for his topcoat when he heard a knock on the door.
“Yes?”
“Father Torres, there’s someone here who wants to talk to you.”
“I’ll be right out.” Ray put on his coat, scarf, and hat, making certain the brim was turned down all the way. Checking his pocket for his car keys, he opened the door and saw Migdalia standing next to an elderly nun.
“Thank you, Sister Agnes.” Waiting until the nun walked away, Ray nodded to the woman who still had the power to make his heart beat a little too quickly. “Hello, Micky.”
A hint of a smile touched Migdalia’s lush mouth, one he remembered doing wicked things to him he’d never experienced before.
“So, you do remember me,” she whispered.
Ray slowly blinked behind the lenses of his glasses. “How could I forget the woman who bore my son?”
“A son you denied even before he was born.”
Ray registered the resentment in his son’s mother’s words. “Is there some place we can go so we can talk about this?”
“You can come to my place. Micah went home with my mother.”
“You gave him a name from the Bible?”
“No, Ramon. I named him after my grandfather.”
“Where do you live?” Ray asked her.
“I have an apartment in Washington Heights. I come to the Bronx on Sundays to see my parents and let Micah hang out with his cousins.”
Ray nodded. “My car is in the back.”
He waited for Micky to put on a knitted cap, then walked with her out of the rectory to the church’s parking lot, where priests were assigned reserved spots. He unlocked the passenger door, waiting for her to get in before rounding the vehicle and slipping behind the wheel.
There were so many things Ray wanted to ask her. First, he wanted to know if she’d married, and if she had, where was her husband? And what had she told her son about his biological father?
He started up the car, then glanced at her profile as she stared out the windshield. “You need to tell me your address.”
Migdalia gave Ramon her address as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. When she stood in line with her son waiting to receive communion, never in her wildest years could she have imagined that the priest wearing a pair of tinted glasses would be the one who’d made her a mother. She had arrived late and had to sit in the back of the church where she couldn’t see the officiant’s face clearly, but that changed when she went up to the front of the church to take the Eucharist.
Whenever she came across town to see her parents, she’d always accompanied them to Sunday mass before returning to her apartment to catch up on things she’d neglected to doduring the week. Micah enjoyed spending time withabueloandabuelaand his many cousins until it came time for her to come back to the Bronx to pick him up. He also looked forward to school holidays and recess when he could stay over longer.
She did not want to believe the only man with whom she’d fallen in love was now a priest who’d taken vows of poverty and chastity. However, she was only able to let go of the rage she’d carried long after he rejected her once she gave birth to a little boy who looked exactly like his father.
“You can park over there,” she said, pointing to an empty space at the end of the block facing Riverside Drive.
Ray maneuvered into the space with minimal effort. “Do you live alone?”
“I’m not married.”
His hand halted removing the key in the ignition. “That’s not what I asked you,” he said softly.
“No, Ramon, I’m not married.” She knew he was recalling the time when she told him she wasn’t with her boyfriend. It wasn’t entirely a lie, because Hector had been locked up in Westchester County after being arrested for shoplifting at a mall, and the judge had sentenced him to six months in a county jail.
