Father Ryan comes to a party at my Tita Dina’s house. He always gets invited by my aunt, who likes priests, because he lived in the Philippines for so long. Tita always puts out Filipino dishes brunch-style in the kitchen along with Chinese food from Madame Wu’s, and people serve themselves, then make their way to the dining room. They always make sure Father Ryan sits at the dining table next to Tita Dina, a special place. This time some of my mother’s cousins are in town from San Jose and sit there and my mother does too. I can see and hear all of them talking, from the family room, where I sit before a silent TV that plays the Bulls game.

My mother often gets cheerful at the parties on a glass of wine. Maybe she feels lonely most of the time and that is why she especially enjoys her cousins’ company. Yesterday they went to Disneyland with her cousin’s little daughter Veronica and came back with bags of T-shirts to bring home to my cousins and little trinkets and souvenirs. The girl had taken a liking to Mom, even persuading her to go on Space Mountain with her. She used her mother’s money to buy Mom a little Mickey Mouse sweatshirt which I know Mom will not wear, but I can tell she likes it because she showed it off to people as though it were a piece of jewelry. She has it at the table as she tells Father Ryan about the rides they went on and the fun they had.

He smiles and nods attentively in his Filipino way.

Have you ever been on Pirates of the Caribbean, Father Ryan?

Oh, no, he laughs, gently.

For some reason all the Filipinas at the table find his reaction funny and start laughing. Soon, though, my mother’s cousin Tai Pei starts talking about her son who works in Silicon Valley, how he bought a new Mercedes and plans on building a guest cottage behind his house for her to live in in her old age. Somehow the conversation gets on to all their children, the colleges they go to, and their jobs. I pretend not to listen. Mom quietly fingers her empty wineglass, her head slightly lowered. Father Ryan notices this. Earlier Tomas had come in wearing a sleeveless undershirt that showed off his tattoos and got food from the kitchen and ate in a corner without smiling at anyone. I could tell from his bloodshot eyes that he was stoned. Father Ryan noticed this too.