Chapter 10

A few days later, as I was sitting at my desk, reviewing the work that Connie had done to streamline the contract process, I received a call from my father.

"Papi."

Without a hello, he began, "I can not take it any longer. Can I come to visit you? Just for a few days. Your sisters and brother and all of those grandchildren… I know they mean well but I need a change of scenery. I can come, no?"

"Of course, Papi. You know that you're welcome anytime. Would you like me to come to get you?" Spinning the watch on my wrist, I said, "I could leave here in about an hour."

"No. No. I am going to drive. I need to continue driving. I will take my time."

"Do you still have the cell phone that I got for you?"

"Si. It is in my pocket." In my mind, I could see him pat the shirt pocket on chest.

"Call me if you get lost and I'll come to get you."

"I remember the way plus I got a map from the gas station convenience store and I found the directions that you had given to your mother. I will be fine."

"See you soon, Papi."

Tank and Bobby were headed for the lunchroom across the hallway so I followed them in.

"Papi just called. He's on his way over. I guess my sibs got to be too much for him."

Bobby pulled a sandwich from the bin in the refrigerator and a bottle of iced tea. Tank was already seated beside Les.

"Where is he going to sleep?" He asked. "What about, you know who?"

"He and my mother always stayed with Ella and Luis in their spare room. I should call her."

Just as I pulled out my phone, Ella walked in with Scott and Hal, carrying grocery bags. Once she had thanked them, they returned to their posts. I walked over to her and took a water bottle from the box on the counter.

"May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course, dear. What can I do for you?"

"Papi just called. He's on his way. Can he stay with you and Luis?"

"Already taken care of. He must have called me just before he spoke to you." She smiled, took the warm water bottle from my hand and handed me a cold iced tea. "His room is all ready for him. Have you thought about dinner plans? What would you like me to make for him?"

I knew she was checking to see how I wanted to handle Connie's presence.

"You know what he likes as well as anyone."

My father arrived about two hours after he had called.

"Ranger," Les said. It was his turn at the main desk. "Your dad is here. Should I have someone take him upstairs, or will you be coming down for him? He has a few boxes that he shouldn't be carrying alone. They look pretty heavy."

"I'm on my way."

Once I exited the elevator and reached the control room, I greeted my father with a hug then took the two boxes that were sitting beside him.

"Should you get someone to help you, Ricky?"

"I'm fine Papi. They aren't that heavy." They were not. "What have you got in here?" I thought of all of the frozen meals in his freezer. "You didn't bring food, did you? I have food here."

"No food. Your sisters, they are good girls but when it comes to cooking, they are not your mother." He chuckled as he dragged his small overnight bag behind him.

"So what's in the boxes?" I asked as I opened the apartment door.

"You will see."

Connie was sitting at her desk talking to Les. She had a definite 'deer in the headlight' look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry." She tried to apologize for not 'hiding' in her room.

"Connie, this is my father, Ricardo. Papi, this is Connie. She is the friend I told you about."

I placed the boxes on the floor by the breakfast bar as my father approached her with his hand outstretched.

"It is very nice to meet you, querida." He said as he brought her hand to his lips for a very gentleman-like kiss. "My son, he speaks of you often. I understand that you are a very good cook. I hope that in my short time here, you will cook for me, yes?"

"I would be happy to." Connie was still a little taken aback but my father had always been a charmer and he did not want to make Connie uncomfortable. "Your son has taught me how to make rope vieja using his mother's recipe."

"Ah. Mi favorite. My favorite. I would like this very much. My son," he looked at me then back at Connie, "he is a very good cook. I am certain that if he taught you, it will be delicious. Gracias."

"Ella is making dinner for us tonight, Papi. Caldo Gallegro."

"Ah, Luis's favorite." To Connie, he said, "You will join us, yes?"

"Well, I… uh."

I turned toward Connie. "It's a sort of pork stew, sausage, chorizo, some tomatoes, white beans, and turnip. Very traditional. And very good."

"I have things to do here." She pointed to a pile of papers on her desk. "I don't want to intrude on a family dinner."

"Nonsense. You are here. A friend of my son. That makes you familia. Ricky, tell Ella to set the table for one more, eh?"

"No need Papi. Ella and I already discussed it. Connie is welcome." My father then asked to be excused and headed off toward the bathroom. It had been a long ride for him.

"Ranger. Thank you for including me but…"

"Connie. You want to tell an old man that you won't be his date for dinner."

"His date?"She chuckled.

"Not really. However, he would be very hurt if you didn't join us. Whatever you have to do, it can wait until tomorrow."

Connie was busily working on paying the monthly invoices while Papi and I carried the boxes he had brought over, then placed them on my bed.

"Papi. What is all of this?"

My father had begun spread out all of the things that had been neatly packed away in the boxes. I recognized most everything as my mother's personal belongings. Thinks she had cherished as long as I could remember.

"These are your mother's most prized possessions."

I had always assumed that these things would go to my sisters although I had hoped that she would save something for me. We had joked about it when I had gone to help my parents clean out their basement after hurricane Sandy in 2012. My men and I had made several trips to the landfill and the recycling center with damaged or destroyed items. My siblings had problems of their own, at the time.

"But why did you bring them here? Do you want me to store them for you because I have plenty of storage space? You know that."

"No. These things are for you, from your mother and I."

"What about the others?"

"Listen." My father was sitting on the edge of the bed when he reached out to touch my hand. "Your mother and I, we talked about this. This was her decision and I agreed."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Your brother and sisters, do things for us when we call them. However, we do for them too. We babysit the children. Your mother, she would cook for them also. We never complain. We love the children and you know that your mother, she loved to cook."

"I still don't understand."

"You, my son, you give and ask for nothing in return. Your mother and I want you to have these things that meant so much to her."

"But why now Papi?"

"Your mother, she wanted to give her things to her children. You are correct about this, but she also said that she did not want her personal things to be fought over."

"The girls. That's why you wanted to come here today with Mami's things. The girls have been fighting."

"Yes and no. They have not been fighting as much as they have been snooping." He chuckled then whispered. "Your mother, she was a very smart woman. She hid these boxes."

My father continued to remove items from the boxes, telling a tale for each trinket. Most things were junk, really, but my mother had apparently held them dear to her heart. If I was to venture a guess, I would have said that it was the memory of the item more than the piece itself that made these treasures her most prized possessions.

When he reached the bottom, he pulled out my mother's quilt; the one that I had seen hanging on the back of her chair after her funeral.

"Papi. This is Mom's quilt." He placed it reverently in my hands. "Don't you want to keep this?"

"You mother made this for you when Julie was born. Do you remember?" I detected a slight misting in his eyes. "She was not able to give it to her because … well."

Rachel, my ex-wife, had not allowed me or my family to participate in my daughter's life. She had refused the quilt and returned the gift, unopened.

He caressed the worn fabric gently as though it would shatter it if it was jarred.

"You mother's wish was that if you had more children, that you would wrap them in it."

All of the pieces reminded me of my youth: of times gone by. The red patches were from a favorite shirt, the plaid, were from an old wool jacket. There was dog-eared denim and cotton from faded pajamas. All mine. Each and every square and triangle had been hand-picked from my abandoned closet and drawers and hand-sewn with love and memories. So many memories. Even the backing was the careworn, hand-me-down, wool mantle I'd wrapped myself in on cold, drafty winter nights. Gratefully, I took the blanket. It smelled like my mother.

"Thank you, Papi. I will cherish this."

Thinking he was finished, as the boxes were empty, he reached for his overnight bag. "I have one more piece for you." After slowly unzipping then rummaging through his bag, he said, "Ah! Here it is."

He held, what looked like a wad of tissue, in his hands, brought it to his chest for a beat, kissed it then handed it to me, placing in my hand, folding my fingers around it.

"Papi. What is this?"

Still holding my hand he continued, "This was Abuela Rosa's. A gift from your Abulelo before they left Cuba. When I was to marry your mother, she gave it to me to give you your mother. Open it," he directed.

Carefully I unfolded the crinkly white paper to reveal a shiny gold ring, with a cloudy stone. It was the ring my mother still had on her finger when she died.

"Papi, I can't take this." I protested. I could hear my sisters fighting over the ring. My mother had told them it was a real and a very valuable diamond from Cuba. I knew better. I knew gemstones. It was a polished piece of glass, set in a gold-tone band of costume jewelry. The ring had no monetary value yet it was priceless.

"Your sisters," he began, "have been looking for this ring. They want to sell it. Your mother, she always wanted you to have it for your intended. She knew that only you would see its true worth."

"Thank you, Papi. I will guard it with my life. If I ever find the right woman to marry, I promise I will give it to her." Turning the ring in my hand, I then carried it to the gun safe in my dressing room.

Dinner was as expected. Ella's meal rivaled my mother's. My father and Luis talked shop throughout. They had worked together in the shoe factories by the canal until they closed and then they both moved on to janitorial jobs at the mall until their retirement. It was good to see him enjoying himself with friends.