Chapter 21

'Berto

Roberto went to bed later than usual, but Toni wasn't home yet. He had to trust that she would be there when he woke up – a trust that, he found, was easy to come by. She had said she would be, so she would be.

And she was, though he found it was later than he expected when he woke up to find her sitting up beside him. "What's up, Toni?"

"I've called in for both of us. One way or the other, I don't think we'll want to go to work today."

"Okay, if you say so. How was your visit?"

"Interesting ... it was interesting. Hey, 'Berto, why don't I get us some juice, and then we'll talk in the living room, okay?"

"Talk?"

"I have an answer for you, 'Berto."

"Oh." It was what he'd waited for, but now that it was here he wanted to put it off some more. He wanted to know – but he didn't want to hear the word "no."

Toni kissed him gently, and slid out of bed, her nightgown flowing around her. Roberto watched her go, and then got out of bed himself, slipping on a pair of sweat pants before going out to the living room. Toni was there already, on her end of the sofa; there was a glass of orange juice in front of his spot. He sat down, took a drink, and turned on the sofa to face her. "You have an answer, you said?"

She turned to face him, sliding her legs out straight beside his. "Yes. But first there are two things I need to tell you. First, 'Berto – I love you. I've loved you, I guess, since the day we met, and I've known it since that first Monday. But I never dared tell you. And that brings me to the second thing."

In the pause Roberto reached out and took hold of one of Toni's feet. It was slender, like the rest of her, and he realized that while the toes did show the shape of her shoes, they weren't the cramped, pinched up toes that come from shoes that are more fashionable than comfortable. He rubbed her foot gently, not daring to speak.

"The other thing I need to tell you, 'Berto, involves some pictures." She reached and picked up a photo album from the coffee table; he hadn't noticed it before. She opened it, turned pages, handed it to him. As he took it she pointed to a snapshot of a younger Toni with her arms around an Anglo man. "That's Garry Davis. I met him when I was 22 years old, and moved in with him a couple of weeks later. We were together for a little more than a year. I loved him, 'Berto. He was the first man I loved. I've told you I've only been with one other man – Garry was the other man."

She took a breath, and Roberto realized that tears were running down her cheeks. Her quiet voice had deceived him into thinking she was all right. He reached out and wiped a cheek, but she caught his hand in both of her own. "No, 'Berto. I appreciate your love, but no. I have to tell this my way, or I'll never be able to tell it." She took the album back and flipped pages as she continued. "After a year, I became pregnant. I was so happy, 'Berto. We hadn't tried to have a baby, but we hadn't tried not to either. And when I realized I was going to, I was deliriously happy. Garry was happy too – ecstatic. That very day he asked me to marry him, and I accepted. We knew by then that we loved each other. It wasn't something we had to think about – we loved each other like we loved breathing. It was part of us, that's all.

"Two days after that, on his way home from work, Garry was in an accident. It was a drunk driver running a red light." Roberto knew that drunk drivers were a perpetual plague in New Mexico, many of them with multiple DWI arrests – and some still with valid driver's licenses even so. "Garry died before they could get him out of the car. We'd told our parents we were getting married, so his father called me with ... with all he knew about it. We weren't married so the police wouldn't tell me much. But Garry's father told me.

"The police said that Garry died instantly, or almost instantly, that he didn't suffer. That was the only consolation in the whole thing. I had been happy. I had been planning my wedding, and looking forward to spending my life with Garry. And two days later it was all destruction."

She handed the photo album back to Roberto, this time pointing to a picture of a young boy. His skin was lighter than Toni's, though still brown, and his features were a mixture of hers and Garry's. "This is Bill – my son. Nine months after the accident Garry William Cedillo was born. I named him for Garry, and for Garry's father, but I couldn't bear to call him Garry, so I called him Bill.

"Six months after he was born, I realized that I couldn't raise him. It was just too much for me – not raising a baby, but raising Garry's son all by myself while I was still grieving. I wanted to keep him. I loved him – I love him to this day, 'Berto. But for his sake I gave him up for adoption." She turned a page and pointed to a family portrait – a young black couple, with Bill sitting on the woman's lap. "This is Charles and LaSylvia Wilton. They adopted Bill. I told them that I wouldn't interfere, but I would appreciate it if they would keep me up to date. I haven't seen Bill since then, but they send me a picture every year on the anniversary of his adoption, and sometimes others too. They've been wonderful parents, and I'm glad that they're the ones who adopted him."

She paused, and though her voice had held the same gentle, even tone, her face was wet with tears, which she hadn't wiped away. "'Berto, I am a Christian – at least, I was. I believed the Bible, I believed what it said about sexual immorality. I had fully intended never to have sex until I was married – and then with Garry I broke my word to myself and my promise to God. I betrayed everything I believed in. I did what I knew was wrong. I sinned, 'Berto – and God took Garry away from me, and took my son away from me, and I've been living with my rottenness ever since.

"I love you, 'Berto. But that's the woman I am, and you deserve to know it before ... before you proceed. If you don't want to marry me now, I'll understand. If you leave me, it will break my heart – but I won't stop you. If you don't want to be with such a filthy person anymore..." She couldn't continue, and this time she didn't protest as Roberto wiped her cheeks with his palm.