The Fallen and the Elect
Page 71
Chapter 43
Michael and Sister Justine were able to find Father Hernandez despite the robust morning activity at the Dawles facility. After asking at the information center at the main entrance where they might find him, they luckily found him talking to a doctor in the main hallway of the administration building prior to their traipsing toward the rehabilitation wing. Michael’s first thought was breakfast since he was hungry from his morning run.
Michael reached out his hand to shake the Father’s hand extended to greet him. “Padre, I’m starved. Is there someplace in this facility where it’s good to eat?”
“Glad to see you too,” Father Hernandez, replied smiling.
“I’m a bit hungry myself. I’d like to get something to eat before we get started,” Sister Justine added.
Father Hernandez directed them to a diner about a mile away from the hospital. The drive over to the eatery was pretty much like the entire trip to New Mexico, quiet and tense. Entering the sandstone-colored strip mall, they found the Mex-Tex-style diner comprising several storefronts. The interior was country-style tables made with a light blonde wood surrounded with chairs having tightly weaved straw seats and high backs. Large squared beige and brown floor tiles lay at a 45-degree angle to the wall. A rustic adobe brick façade ran halfway up the wall with desert murals on the upper half and wagon wheels and various articles of horse paraphernalia hung throughout the restaurant. It made sense since the name of the restaurant was Caballos. Seated at a table near a window with a view of the strip mall parking lot, they were handed a trifold menu inset with a breakfast special handout. Perusing the selections, Sister Justine selected a traditional eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns. Michael felt more adventurous and ordered the house specialty of a spicy egg and chorizo burrito covered with both red and green sauces.
“Are you sure?” the weighty waitress with Native American features asked.
Thinking he possessed the palate endurance to attempt the New Mexico red and green chili sauce made from ancho, pequin, and other regional peppers, touted by the waitress as having a velvety texture with heat that would blister the sun; he insisted on trying it. The waitress smiled. She returned in a few minutes with several more glasses of water.
“Do you think we’ll find out anything more while we’re here?” Sister Justine asked, passively attempting to avoid an uncomfortable silence coming up again.
“We’ve found out so much yet I’m not sure if we really know out anything at all. I mean I tried to go over my notes about what happened and nothing is congealing right now.” Michael didn’t intend for his comment to be sarcastic or full of guile, and he hoped Sister Justine didn’t take it that way. He was also upset with himself for deleting his earlier notes about their hospital chapel experience.
“Look Michael, I know we’ve never really had a chance to talk about it yet, but I’m sorry for lying to you all those years about the notes. You know how important it was for me to become a nun.”
Michael realized he still bottled simmering bitterness at being deceived, but wanted to attempt being con-ciliatory. “Truthfully, I guess I could never accept everything that happened. I mean, us no longer being together, then so many of our family members missing with all the others. Then you show up after ten years, and everything that’s going on now, it’s been hard.”
“I know. It’s been tough for all of us.”
“I mean, come on,” Michael retorted, becoming a bit riled but succeeding in keeping his composure. “Couldn’t you have just told me? Especially after all we’ve been through. I mean since we were freshmen in high school. You were my first and only girlfriend. I would’ve never thought you could betray me like that, especially to the Church.”
“Michael, were you really gonna become a priest? I mean really, or did you just tag along because of a little bit of puppy love?”
“It wasn’t puppy love. I did love you, at least what I thought was love at the time.”
“I did care for you Michael, but my calling to God was greater, much greater.”
“Here are your meals,” said a skinny Latino teen, breaking into the conversation placing the meals on the table in front of Michael and Sister Justine. “Would you like more water senòr?”
“No thanks. What I have here is fine.”
While Sister Justine took time to pray, Michael started in on the meal. After a couple of bites enjoying the flavors of the sauces, the heat on his tongue ramped up. Tears blurred his eyes as his taste buds endured intense searing by the oils from the spices. Michael quickly downed one of the glasses of water.
“I think milk might be better for you Michael, you look like you’re sweating,” Sister Justine noted with friendly compassion.
He was sweating. “Naw, it’ll dull the flavor,” Michael gurgled while downing another glass of water. He continued the meal, not wanting to appear gastronomically fragile, but called for more water making several of the locals chuckle. Taste buds going numb, Michael gave up on the burrito. After he gulped down a final glass of water and paying their bill, they departed.
Driving back, Sister Justine said, “Michael, about what we were talking about earlier.”
“Don’t worry about that, I just want to get back. My mouth is starting to burn again,” Michael responded, accelerating. He hoped the remaining lights would be green and that he wouldn’t get pulled over for speeding. He actually didn’t want to discuss their earlier exchange.