Page 79 of Absolution

This is his mask, the face he puts on for others, and I intend to find out what’s behind it.

“And there he is!” The familiar voice draws my attention toward the bottom of the concrete stairs, from where Gordon waves.

With a smile, I meet him there and offer a handshake. “I didn’t see you during mass.”

“Nah, I only go to church on Sunday. Just here to meet with Father Javier about something.”

“Ah, then you’ll bear witness to my first homily in the new place. Or, as I like to call it, theMass Disaster.”

“You’ll do fine.” He turns away from me, and a smile crinkles the deep grooves already etched in his face. “Well, well. Look at this rowdy bunch of trouble makers!”

A beautiful young girl with long black hair that’s held back from her face by a thick headband and bronze skin steps forward in a beige skirt and white top. She’s probably sixteen, or seventeen, I’d guess. A slightly older replica of her follows after, wearing a bright smile and a floral dress, and behind them, a man dressed in slacks and a crisp white shirt.

“Gordon, you’re already harassing the new priest?” the older woman says, offering me the first friendly, non-sexual glance I’ve received today.

“Somebody’s got to!” He shoots me a wink and sets his hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “Father Damon, allow me to introduce you to the finest family in Southern California. This is Ariceli, her mother Veronica, and our much respected mayor, Raul Martinez.”

“Mayor?” I hold out my hand, certain I’ve made a grave error by assuming the church will help me to lay low. I don’t even know the mayor of Los Angeles. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Welcome to Calexico. We’re happy to have you here, Father Damon.”

“Some more than others, I suppose.”

“Yes, eh, seems Father Damon has been subjected to the unofficial greeting committee.” Abandoning the young girl, Gordon stands beside me, and the pat on my back hits the bruise there, making me flinch.

“My apologies, Father.” Raul lowers his gaze and sighs, frowning like he’s had this conversation before. “We’re working on a solution for the gangs that seem to be cropping up in our town. We’ve assembled a small task force and neighborhood watch.”

“Task force? They’re kids.” Arms crossed, Gordon shakes his head and scoffs. “C’mon, Raul. The solution is the checkpoints. It’s not a gang problem, it’s a bunch of bored kids borderhopping. Get some business going here. Open a damn mall. Give ‘em something to do. We’ve talked about this.”

“And now is not the time to continue this discussion.” Raul carries the calm diplomatic warning in his tone that I expect from a politician.

“Right. Sorry.” Gordon turns toward the young girl once again. “Hey, I hear you plan to go to Pepperdine next year. That’s great!Fantastico, young lady.”

“Yes, we met with admissions last week, and it seems like a good fit,” Veronica, answers for her.

“Bet you’re looking forward to moving onward and upward! No farming for this one, no, sir. She’s smart.”

Raul sighs and nudges his wife and daughter. “Again, we’re happy to have you here, Father. Should you need anything, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”

“I’ll be in touch!” Gordon calls out to him, but only Veronica offers a sheepish smile and waves back.

“Gordon, give me five minutes.” Javier says from behind me, and I turn to watch him head back into the church.

“What did you mean by check points?” I ask, recalling Raul’s disinterested reaction to such a suggestion.

“Ah, it’s a longstanding battle with Raul. He thinks we have a gang problem here. That these kids are hooking up with some big drug lord and cartel across the border.”

Perhaps not across the border. Perhaps right here in this very church. But I don’t say that to Gordon. “I say they’re just a bunch of bored kids with nothing to do.” He waves his hand out toward the surrounding neighborhood. “You’re from LA. Look around, Father. There isn’t much to do here. We need some business. Some commerce running through here. Kids get idle … they get … antsy. Violent. Unpredictable.”

“I don’t think a mall will be the solution for kids who take baseball bats to newcomers.”

He flinches and shakes his head. “Maybe not. But not all these kids have the opportunity to get out, like Ariceli. They’re angry. They feel stuck. And when you’re backed in a corner, the only way out is sometimes violent.”

“Which makes them easy to manipulate. The promise of something better is a great motivator.”

His appraisal of me holds more suspicion than anything else. “Raul thinks these kids are following some mythological goat, like some messiah of the underworld. He’s an excuse. That’s all. Ascapegoatfor politicians to ignore the real problem, which is lack of opportunity.”

“You don’t believe he’s real, then?” It was Javier who first blew him off as nothing interesting, perhaps the only one I’ve come across who didn’t seem threatened by the circulating stories.

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