“Listen, Mamà, I don’t trust Brother Pablo,” Salvador said. “Last night, I saw him pawing through unguarded packs.” He tied his shoes on his feet. “He’s got shifty eyes and filthy long fingernails.” He hoped Mamà would believe him just this once.
“You were dreaming. He’s just protecting us from contraband,” Mamà said. “You know we walk to purify our souls, to ask forgiveness for our sins…and the offenses of others.” Her voice dropped low as she ignored Salvador’s complaints and muttered her morning prayers, “Nuestro padre, our Father…adelante, hurry Salvador.”
“But Mamà, what sins do I have?” Salvador asked. A dark shadow of memory clouded his mind. “Brother Pablo reminds me of Brother Santana.” Mamà didn’t believe him when he complained about the Brothers. His friends understood the truth. They would laugh if they could see him trapped among this bunch of holy fools. The church expected the oldest son to accompany his Mamà on the Easter pilgrimage. Sal was the only son and this was the last favor he would do for Mamà.
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