Page 66

“Oh, thank God!” he crows as he steps inside. “I thought maybe you’d gone into witness protection so you’d never have to see me again.”

Annie squeals and vanishes in a burst of shadows. It’s all Ben can do to drop the sunflowers on the counter before she reappears in his arms. He holds her and buries his face in her hair, but his eyes stay on me.

“You came back.” I’m grinning like an idiot as all the doubt piling up inside me topples over and melts away. He actually came back to us. How on earth could I have doubted him?

“I told you I would,osito,” he says, releasing Annie and handing her the paper bag. He runs his fingers over the hand-shaped scorch marks she left on the edge of the counter, then looks me up and down. His grin turns slightly fiendish and I realize that the blanket I had wrapped around me is hanging open. My erection is on full display, and they’re both watching me the way lions watch a wounded zebra. But then Ben unzips his jacket, and I instantly deflate when I see his black button-up shirt and the clerical collar around his neck.

“What the fuck is that?” I ask quietly. He doesn’t seem to understand, but then realizes where I’m looking.

“Theo, it’s not what you think,” he says, his voice suddenly strained and eyes wide. Annie, who is standing at the counter with her face buried inthe sunflowers, sets them down, a worried crease between her eyebrows.

“Or maybe it’s exactly what I think!” I say loudly. “What the fuck were you doing at an assisted living facility, Ben? And then staying at a fancy hotel? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Please, can you just let me explain?” Ben says desperately, going to the paper bag Annie left on the counter and pulling out a large bottle of dark amber tequila, a few other grocery items, and a manila envelope. From the bottom of the bag, he produces a knit beanie hat and several Polaroid pictures, which he holds out to me.

“What is this?” I fold my arms, hating how vulnerable I feel. Not only did I let this man into my home, but I allowed myself to feel things for him that I didn’t think I’d ever feel again after Ros left. He falters when I don’t touch the photos, then sets them on the counter.

“I went…I went to see myabuelita,” he says softly.

“Why would I believe that? Why would you need to wear the collar to go see your own grandmother?” I spit at him, feeling overwhelmingly guilty, but still holding my ground. He promised us an explanation–heowesus an explanation–and now I’m going to get one, whether he likes it or not. Annie walks over and puts a hand on Ben’s arm, but stays silent.

“Because she doesn’t know…” Ben sighs. “She doesn’t know that I…was laicized. She has dementia, and it’s bad, so I never told her. Even if I had, she probably wouldn’t remember.”

He begins unwrapping the seal around the bottle of tequila. I stand perfectly still until he goes into the kitchen to pull three shot glasses off my shelf, then I walk over and look at the photos.

There’s five of them. Three are just of Ben and an impossibly old, frail-looking woman in a hospital-type bed. He’s sitting beside her, hugging her, wearing the beanie and his clerical collar, and absolutely beaming. In another one, she’s holding his hands and bowing her head in what looks like a prayer, and in the third, Ben is lying next to her in the bed, reading a book of what looks like poetry.The other photos have two extra people in them: a man who looks vaguely familiar to me, although I don’t know why, and a beautiful woman who absolutely has to be Ben’s sister. In these photos, everyone is gathered around the old woman’s bed, and she’s smiling broadly.

I put the photos down and watch Ben pour three shots of tequila. He puts one in front of me and one in front of Annie, then lifts the other one up and throws it back. I glance at Annie, but she’s watching him with a frown on her face.

“So, why didn’t you just…tell us that before you left?” I ask, sitting at the counter with a sigh.

Ben pours another shot, but doesn’t take it. “Because it’s a much longer story than that,” he says, “and I’m not telling it if I’m the only one drinking, so bottoms up.”

He lifts his shot glass and raises his eyebrows at us. Begrudgingly, I pick mine up. Annie lifts hers too, inspecting the golden liquid. I take mine first and grimace, then Ben takes his, then Annie.

“Delicious,” she says with a grin. “Better than what was in your flask.”

“Well, this is the good shit my sister brings me straight from Mexico.” He lets out a dark laugh, then looks up at me from underneath those eyelashes that are so long and dark they should be illegal, especially on a face like his.

“Do you believe me,osito?” he asks quietly.

I look back down at the photos and sigh, “Tell us the whole story. I won’t judge, I promise.”

He pours and takes another shot, and Annie holds her glass out for more too. I cover mine up with a hand when he offers a refill. I need a clear head for this.

“I told you, I’m the youngest of four,” he starts, “but I’m the only one who was born here. My brother and two sisters were all born in Mexico, and my parents went through hell to bring them here. After that, I’m sure you know the story. Immigrant parents busted their asses to give us everything. Eventually, they were doing well enough with their business that they needed some help at home, so they brought myabuelitahere too. She and my sister, Yelena, practically raised me. I got into some trouble right at the end of high school, just doing dumb teenager shit, and our family’s priest, Father Emile, really helped me through it.

“At that point, my brother and sisters were all on their way to becoming really successful. I didn’t know where I wanted my life to go, but I couldn’t let them all down by becoming a piece of shit. I told Father Emile I wanted to do something that would help people, people who needed it, and he’s the one who suggested the priesthood. Back then, I was…a lot more religious, and my family was so thrilled with the idea, especially myabuelita. I just couldn’t stomach the idea of continuing to disappoint them, so I went to seminary. The whole…celibacy thing, I guess I thought I could get over it as long as I felt like I was doing good work. Didn’t ever really feel like I was meant to have relationships anyway…”

“Don’t they screen for that sort of thing?” I ask softly. “People who are joining for the wrong reasons?”

“They do, but enrollment is so low right now, they’re more willing to overlook it, especially if your family makes a big enough donation to the school,” Ben says bitterly. I nod, then let him pour me another shot while he keeps talking.

“When myabuelitahad to go into memory care a few years ago, they got her a place here, close to me, because I was the only one who had time to go see her regularly. Yelena’s schedule is a bit crazy, being a real estate queen married to a big time movie star, you know.” He taps one of the Polaroids, and I realize why the man standing beside Yelena looks so familiar.

“That’s Santino Ramirez, isn’t it? Your sister is married to Santino Ramirez?”

“Yeah,” Ben laughs, pouring another shot. “You can look it up if you don’t believe me. She sold him a house and then moved into it with him a month later. My other sister is a lawyer who’s argued in front of the Supremefucking Court. My brother is a doctor, off saving the world, giving orphans polio vaccines or something. And…here I am.”