Read Online August Gale by Barbara Walsh - Free Book Online

that he sees his father, Ambrose calls Ronnie to his side. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few coins. Tussling Ronnie’s dark hair, Ambrose tucks the silver into his boy’s hand. “See you later, son.”
    Ronnie takes the change, the coins cool in his palm. He watches Ambrose’s broad back disappear into the darkened doorway. Inside the dimly lit room, there is smoke and shouting, men’s voices excited about the horses that could make or break their bets. Alone, Ronnie stands on the street corner and and thinks about his mother. He knows she would not want him to take a nickel from Ambrose’s hand. So he keeps the meeting and the money a secret, and for now on this San Francisco street, the thirteen-year-old boy still has hope that somehow his family is going to be okay.
    His mother does not share her son’s optimism. She knows in her heart there is no hope left; that she cannot rely on Ambrose for the truth, or a few dollars. Desperate for money, she fills out papers so she can collect unemployment. In this city of hills and fog, Patricia is stricken with dread and regret. She spends much of the day in bed crying or sleeping. Her nephew, Tommy, who is now seventeen, is worried about his Aunt Patricia and her deepening depression. He works as a clerk at a local bank and offers her most of his paycheck, but it is not enough to cover the rent and the grocery bills. Patricia rarely leaves the hotel room, and when she does, it is to walk the two blocks to pray in the Mission Dolores Church. The oldest building in the city, the church is named for the presence of a nearby stream, Arroyo de Nuestra Señora de los Dolores, or Our Lady of Sorrows Creek. Here in the whitewashed adobe sanctuary, Patricia cries her own tears as she kneels and asks God again to help care for her boys. Though this time, she does not have enough strength to wait for an answer. She returns to her hotel room where she considers jumping from a window.
    The priest from Mission Dolores knows Patricia from her frequent visits to Sunday Mass, and he is familiar with her son Ronnie, who serves as an altar boy and sells newspapers after church. The monsignor feels badly for the young woman from New York, and he has done what he can to give her money for food and rent during her time of need. But he also realizes that Patricia has had a nervous breakdown and her sons are in trouble. He pays a visit to her motel room and knocks lightly on the door. When she rises from her bed, her eyes are rimmed red with tears. The priest offers her a hello and asks in a voice soft and low, “How are you getting on, Mrs. Walsh?”
    Patricia does not speak, and her sobs fill the small room. Placing a hand on her shoulder, the priest shares his words slowly, and he tells her as gently as he can, “You’ve got to get better, Mrs. Walsh, or the state is going to take your children.”
    The priest’s admonishment stirs Patricia from her stupor. Misfortune has already claimed her firstborn, and she will not allow anyone to take another child from her. When money from her older brother is wired to San Francisco, she buys four tickets for the long train ride back to the northeast.
    In my mind’s eye I envision this scene: my Nana crushed by Ambrose’s betrayal, his lies, his decision to call his family out to San Francisco only to abandon them again thousands of miles from their home and their relatives. I consider her pain, the unbearable hurt of being pushed aside again for Arlene. Her shock at learning Arlene was pregnant with Ambrose’s second child. Her anger and shame at being duped by Ambrose twice in two years. Her wishing she had listened to her father and her sisters, who warned her not to move her sons across country. How she must have felt later after it all unfolded: A complete fool to have trusted Ambrose. Yet, I know too how blinded she was, how deeply she loved Ambrose; he was her first and only