“Pulled teeth, fingernails, and broken kneecaps are more in line with mob retaliation if they’re owed money.”
Migdalia slowly shook her head. “It’s so sad how people mess up their lives. To my knowledge, he wasn’t into anything illegal when we were dating. He was possessive and jealous, but at that time, I thought it was because he wanted me all to himself. And for a nineteen-year-old girl, that wasexciting. What he managed to hide from me was that he headed a small gang of thieves who were shoplifting and fencing stolen goods. They got away with stealing in the Bronx, but their luck ran out when they left the Bronx and went up to a mall in Yonkers and were caught stealing sunglasses. When I heard he was in jail, I told his sister to let him know we were through.”
“What did you tell your parents when you found out you were pregnant?”
“I told them the truth. That I’d met this boy, and when I told him I was having his baby, he denied it was his. So, I left him.”
“Do you know why I didn’t believe you?”
“Yes, Ramon. Because you always used a condom. I was taking an oral contraceptive when I was dating Hector, but I stopped after he went to jail. If I had continued to take it, things would’ve been different between us.”
“Even if you weren’t pregnant, your ex wasn’t willing to let you go.”
“You’re probably right.” Migdalia continued to stare at an older, more mature Ramon Torres, and she wanted to see his eyes behind the tinted lenses. There was something about his features that was reminiscent of the faces of Roman busts in one of her history books.
Ramon was right about them being able to talk about everything because she always had been a voracious reader. It was as if she had a thirst for knowledge she found impossible to quench.
“I forgot to ask, when do you have to be back to your parish?”
“I’m finished for the day. I came down to fill in for Father Shelton, who’s recovering from dental surgery.”
“Where’s your parish?”
“It’s in Soundview.”
“Do you like it there?”
Ray smiled. “Yes. I’ve been there for two years, and I’m familiar with most of the parishioners.”
“Is it true that they move priest from parish to parish every couple of years?”
“No. Priests usually rotate parishes every five to seven years. There are some who stay longer or are transferred when there is a new bishop.”
Migdalia glanced at her watch. “May I offer you something to eat?”
Ray lowered his leg, planting both feet on the floor. “Will you join me?”
“Of course. I made empanadas yesterday, so we’ll start with those as appetizers.”
“I was thinking about taking you out to eat.”
“It’s okay, Ramon. I prepared everything earlier this morning, so it’s no trouble to heat it up.”
“Are you sure, Micky? Because I don’t want you to go through any trouble.”
“Yes. I’m sure. And you’re definitely not who or what I consider trouble.”
CHAPTER32
Ray touched a napkin to the corners of his mouth and shared a smile with Migdalia. He was glad they hadn’t gone out to eat, because what he would have ordered couldn’t compare to what she had prepared. It was as if he had gone back to his childhood when hisabuelacooked for the family.
Migdalia had prepared beef empanadas with the crust so flaky that it literally melted on his tongue. And herarroz con gandulesand baked chicken reminded him of the two summers he and his siblings had spent in Puerto Rico when, after working long hours on his farm, he’d wash up and come into the house to sit down for the evening meal. He was a growing teenage boy, and it was as if he couldn’t get full, no matter how much he ate. Every night there was rice, beans, fried or sweet plantains, and meat that varied from chicken, to pork, and steak and onions, avocado, and soup. At the end of the first summer, he was ten pounds heavier, two inches taller, and his complexion two shades darker. The year he turned eighteen, he was an even six foot and weighed one hundred sixty-five pounds of lean muscle.
He stopped growing by the time he entered college, and hisweight dropped to one-fifty before graduating, because he’d spent long hours studying while neglecting to eat. After he was assaulted and spent nearly a month in the hospital, he was down to a hundred and thirty pounds. He refused to look in a mirror, because he didn’t recognize the image staring back at him. Rehabilitation was slow and painful, and as his body healed, so did his resolve to enter the seminary to become a priest.
Now he was Father Torres, with a ten-year-old son he’d never met before but now wanted to get to know. “You’re an incredible cook. I’m glad we didn’t go out.”
Migdalia lowered her eyes, the gesture so demurely sensual that Ray found he couldn’t look away. “Thank you. I like to cook.”
