Chapter 30
Father Ramon Torres thought he was hallucinating when he met the large dark eyes of the little boy staring up at him as he hesitated placing the communion wafer on the little outstretched tongue.
The boy was his mirror image at that age.
It was only when he glanced over toward the head of the woman standing behind the child that he knew exactly who she was.
“The body of Christ,” he said softly as he repeated the gesture with her.
Migdalia smiled. “Amen.” She was still smiling when she lowered her eyes and escorted her son back to their pew.
Ray didn’t want to believe his volunteering to perform mass for a priest at another parish would bring him face-to-face with his past. Even after he’d recovered from the savage beating, he continued to deny that Migdalia was pregnant with his baby, because of what his attacker told him within seconds of being abducted off the street in broad daylight.
“You’re going to pay for fucking with my lady.
” The threat told Ray that Migdalia was probably sleeping with him and her boyfriend at the same time, and he was the better marriage prospect because he planned to become a doctor.
Once mass concluded, he retreated to the rectory, where he went into a room and closed the door to change out of his vestments and into the quintessential black suit with the white collar identifying him as a member of the clergy.
If he hadn’t stepped in for an ailing colleague, Ray knew he probably would have spent the rest of his natural life unaware that he had produced a child.
Studying for the priesthood had made him a changed man.
Over time, prayer and abstinence had curbed the sexual urges that had at one time controlled his very existence.
The first year he struggled not to touch himself; then, after a while, it was as if the very act had become distasteful.
He was an eager divinity student and enjoyed the hours of solitude where he devoured the works of religious scholars and philosophers.
Ray had found a new home at the seminary, and even when he was allowed privileges to visit with his family, he preferred spending hours in the chapel praying and meditating.
Once he felt that he’d achieved the spiritual healing that had eluded him, he would call his mother to let her know when to expect him to come home.
It wasn’t until after he had emerged from the drug-induced coma that he was told his grandmother had passed away and his parents had accompanied her body to Puerto Rico for her burial.
His sisters and brothers were young adults, and his older sister had married a hospital social worker, and after a couple of years, he decided to reconnect with his blood brothers.
Ray’s reunion with Frankie and Kenny made him aware of the strong bond that still existed between them.
A bond that was 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 do during the week.
Micah enjoyed spending time with abuelo and abuela and 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.
“Don’t move,” Ray said as he shut off the engine. He got out and came around to open her door to assist her out.
She smiled. He was still the gentleman she remembered, and that’s why she’d found herself so taken with him.
That and because he was a pre-med student at Columbia University who was studying to become a doctor.
She worked at a hospital kitchen, hoping to become a dietitian, and she was in awe of the doctors in their white coats treating patients and giving orders to nurses and members of hospital staff as if they were royalty and expected to be obeyed without question.
Migdalia couldn’t believe that she’d fallen in love with Ramon, and one day she would be a doctor’s wife and the mother of his children.
But her fantasy world imploded when she discovered her period was late, despite Ramon using a condom.
At first, she believed her cycle was off, but after not seeing her period for two months, she went to the hospital lab for a pregnancy test. When it came back positive, she panicked.
She hadn’t slept with Hector since he’d been incarcerated, and there was no way she could pass the baby off as his, and she was forced to tell Ramon that she was having his baby.
She walked back up the block to her building, waiting for Ramon to open the door to the lobby.
Reaching into the pocket of her coat, she took out a set of keys and unlocked the door leading into the vestibule.
It had taken her a while to rent a two-bedroom apartment in a building on a clean tree-lined street in upper Manhattan.
“This is a nice building,” Ray said.
“It will stay nice until the drug dealers decide to use it as a place where they can stash their drugs,” Migdalia said over her shoulder as she led the way to her first-floor apartment.
Ray removed his hat and ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “Drugs have become a plague in this country.”
She unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“A plague that’s so out of control, it’s impossible to eradicate despite First Lady Nancy Reagan’s ‘Just say no’ campaign.
She would’ve made more of an impact if she said to dealers and traffickers that they are going to jail for life without parole if they get caught selling or bringing drugs into this country. ”
Ray hung up his hat and coat alongside Migdalia’s on a tree stand in a corner near the door. “Not even stiff prison sentences are enough to deter those bent on amassing enormous fortunes from products that destroy lives.”
Migdalia turned to look at him. “Are you an advocate for the death penalty?”
“You should know better than to ask me that.”
“Is it because you’re a Catholic priest and don’t believe in the death penalty?”
“It has nothing to do with religion, Micky. I don’t believe any man has the right to take another man’s life, regardless of the crime. And yes, life mandatory sentences may work, but it’s not a cure-all in this country.”
“Where would they work?” she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder as they walked down a hallway into the living room.
“In countries where the culture is based on a religion.”
“But those religions are usually extremely inhibiting.”
Ray waited for Migdalia to sit on a sofa before he took a matching armchair, looping one leg over the opposite knee.
The living room furnishings weren’t fancy, but functional.
He noticed that everything was in its proper place, like arranged pieces in furniture showrooms. “Not to someone who grows up in the culture. What we may find inhibiting, they would see as encouraging social behavior that will eventually corrupt a society.”
“Give me an example, Ramon.”
“We’re hypocritical when it comes to the human body.
We visit museums and stare at statues of the naked body that are considered priceless masterpieces, but our puritanical biases blur the lines between art and pornography.
Hollywood has placed ratings on movies shown in conventional movie theaters, while untold millions are made selling porn flicks in seedy neighborhoods all over the country. ”
Migdalia kicked off her shoes and pulled her legs up on the sofa. “You don’t talk like a priest.”
“How is a priest supposed to talk?” he asked.
“Not about pornographic movies.”
“Why? Because depicting lovemaking on the screen is dirty and sinful?” Ray realized what he was saying had shocked Migdalia because she wasn’t thinking of him as a man, but a priest.
Her eyelids fluttered wildly. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“I can, because it is a discussion I have with a lot of people who come to me for counseling. And it is the same discussion I had with another priest before I finally made the decision to join the seminary.”
Ray knew he’d shocked his son’s mother once he revealed he had an addiction. Not to drugs, but sex. That it had nearly taken over his life, and if he’d been able to control his carnal urges, he never would’ve slept with her.
Staring at her under lowered lids, he continued, “You were the only girl I met that I wished I hadn’t slept with because I wanted to save you for marriage.”
“Are you saying we wouldn’t have made love until our wedding night?”
He nodded, smiling. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. There are some women men sleep with and others they don’t until they’re married. You fell into the latter category.”
“Why me, Ramon?”
“Why not you, Migdalia? Remember when we first met, all we did was talk. There wasn’t a subject we couldn’t discuss.”
“You’re right. And there were a few on which we could never agree.”
“True. But you were the first girl who didn’t bore me to tears. And that made you special.”
“Were there any special ones after me?” she asked.
Ray pressed his head to the back of the chair and closed his eyes, feeling as if he were about to enter the confessional to reveal what he had and hadn’t done. “No, Micky. You were the last woman that I lay with.”