Memories of a Life That Never Happened

Chapter 95 - The Benevolent

Despite Escobar's aversion for relying on other people's charity, he would not have his children sleeping under the stars. Luckily, every town has a place that welcomes a chance to help the desperate.  

Eloy's car contoured the square as Escobar drove past the Sun Hat Bar. The owner, a lively young woman with an easy laughter, stopped folding the chairs away for a moment to wave at them. 

A few villagers still populated the streets and the butcher and his wife were sitting on the fountain's stone parapet, trading kisses under the moonlight.  

At first, the romantic scene made Mica feel warm and light. But then she touched her lips and recalled that afternoon. It was a lovely but sad memory. Romantic nights were something she and Theo would never have. 

On the backseat, Julian snored lightly, sucking his thumb. Escobar parked the car and slid the backrest of his seat forward.  

"Where are we going?" Mica slammed the door shut. Despite the noise, Julian continued to snore. 

"We need to find a place to sleep." Escobar cuddled the sleeping child in his arms. 

Curled up by a tree trunk, a couple of stray dogs were already ahead of the Ortiz family in that regard. All of a sudden, the square benches did not seem half-bad.  

"That much I'd figured," Mica said to her stepfather. 

Like zombies, they crossed the square, fighting the urge to sleep.  

Mica debated internally whether Destin had been merciful upon them or if it was a cold-hearted sadist. Had it spared her family or had it ridden it from everything they owned? It was scary how little they had left.  

Hanging on her shoulder was the backpack that Escobar had put together for her so that she had something clean to wear when she left the hospital. The few changes of clothes in there and the dress she was wearing constituted now her entire wardrobe. Not that she had ever possessed a jaw-dropping amount of clothes, but a certain orange tank top would be terribly missed. Mica had unknowingly promised Theo to give it to him in exchange for his blue t-shirt. 

Because Escobar was carrying Julian in his arms, Mica knocked on the heavy wooden door and waited.  

"Again. Harder," instructed Escobar.  

Mica rapped once more. This time, footstalls echoed inside. A moment later, a lamp went on over their heads and a small rectangular hatch screeched open to show a pair of wrinkly blue eyes. Scarce wisps of white hair made an appearance too.  

"Who's there?" a frail voice asked. "Escobar? Is that you?" 

"Yes, Father. I am sorry to wake you up. We need your help." 

Three or four clangs resounded through the silent night as keys turned and bolts unlocked. When the door swung back, Father Thomas studied them with worry. 

"I was wondering-. Come. Come," the priest beckoned them in. 

Instead of the usual black, Mica noticed his cassock was white. With surprising agility, the diminutive man escorted them through a narrow corridor. Light was almost nonexistent as it filtered through tall colored stained windows. Mica even stumbled a couple of times on the uneven stone ground while the priest's slippers flapped nimbly ahead.  

It was not long until Father Thomas invited them into the only decently illuminated room. Abundant in religious artifacts, the cloister lacked in space. Everything indicated that Father Thomas was the single soul in the village with fewer possessions than the Ortiz family. Emptying an incompatibly large trunk that stood beside his single bed, he handed a prickly wool blanket to Escobar. 

"I'm afraid I only have one pillow," the priest apologized. "But Julian should fit and be comfortable enough in there," he said, nodding toward the trunk. 

"It's more than enough," Escobar said gratefully.  

Father Thomas took a spare set of sheets, bunched them up together and lined the trunk with the lump.  

Escobar carefully laid his son inside it.  

"Thank you very much, Father."  

"As for you, young lady." He turned to Mica. "You can have my bed."  

"I'm happy to take the floor," she replied. 

"Nonsense." Father Thomas smiled merrily. "You would not deny me a chance of doing my job: charity. Now would you?" The priest crossed himself. "So it leaves you, Escobar, with either the armchair or the floor. I'm afraid neither will give you the good night of sleep you deserve."  

Supposing that the priest would find at least some comfort on the softness of the armchair, Escobar chose the floor to himself. Father Thomas stuffed a cassock with a few others and offered it to Escobar as a pillow.  

"It's a blessing that the weather's fine," he told them, gazing through the window. "God gave us a fine summer night so we don't need blankets." 

"Thank God," agreed Escobar. "I'll never be able to repay you-." 

"Please," the cleric interrupted. "As I said, I'm happy to put the word of the Lord into action." 

With an ill-disguised pained expression, he sunk onto the armchair. 

"I know all this must make no sense to you now. I've seen your burden increase on the past month. Everyone in your family, save for Julian, bless his soul-." He glanced over to the child and blessed him. "Have been at the hospital. Now you lost your house."  

"I'm out of strength, Father." 

"But not out of trust. Now is the time to believe that Our Lord has a plan for you. Follow the path He's chosen for you, as Julian trusts and follows you. We're his sons. He never abandons us."  

"The problem is, Father," he said in a low voice, more to himself than to the priest. "Is that I don't even know where to take them tomorrow." 

A slight discomfort in loins made her think of the good part of her day and smile. Overwhelmed with everything that had happened that day, Mica surrendered to her thoughts. The voices of Escobar and Father Thomas turned into a tinny babble on the background.  

She wondered if Theo would grow further apart from the rest of his family or if time would eventually turn him into another pea in a pod. If only he would come back every December, Mica would make sure his heart remained in the right place.  

Much after Mica fell asleep, Escobar turned off the light. The hazy beams seeping through the gaps on the window shutter guided him to his improvised bed. And though their accommodations were spartanly modest, as soon as their eyelids blinked shut, each Mica and Escobar blissfully welcomed their pleasantly unmemorable dreams.