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...Manuel...

Last night Basilio had informed me that I was going to officiate my first mass. It was going to be a baptism, one of the first I had learned during the seminary. Besides the news, he gave me a list of children to be baptized and a book with the title "Ritual of the Baptism of Children" in gold letters on a red cover. I opened it reading skipped chapters, marking the ones with the words I was to say at Mass, hoping I would remember them that day. I had had practice during the last year of the priesthood, but we were always watched by the Father who taught us to keep us from making mistakes. I looked for the Lectionary where the verses for Mass were suggested. I opened the Bible also to read them and write down the ones I liked the most in a notebook. I realized that the trembling did not let me write legibly and the knot in my stomach did not let me concentrate as I would like to. I had two weeks to learn what to say, the verses and prepare the talks that were given beforehand to prepare the parents and godparents. I leaned back in the back of the chair and looked out the window directly in front of me, I saw the nuns and novices returning, all carrying shopping bags. I looked at the clock, it was not long before noon, surely they were bringing what they needed for lunch. It was also not long before the twelve o'clock mass was about to begin. I decided to take advantage of the fact that Father Basilio would be busy getting ready so that I could leave without too much trouble. I got up, put on a jacket and headed for one of the doors that connected the inner and outer corridors. As I reached the courtyard, I could see Basilio talking to the altar boys who were watching him from the pulpit.

I started walking down the street where the parish school was located, that was the main street for me. I walked until it was no longer paved, it was covered with stones that would probably be covered with tar at some point. Some people greeted me as I passed, after a week here, most of them had already seen me several times at masses and meetings. Mostly, people passed by on bicycles, motorcycles or walking, almost no cars passed by, the few that did, passed practically at a man's pace. From some houses you could hear music of all kinds. It was a neighborhood of low houses and open spaces.

The street I was walking on led to a busier street with which it formed a letter "T". There were a few buses passing by and many more vehicles in general. On the other side of the street there was a fence separating the train tracks from the sidewalk, surely those were the Del Viso tracks, the station and the commercial area must not be far away. Maria had recently told me that the parish was not far from the train station. I decided to follow the buses until I lost sight of them, I was sure that I would be able to get to the station without any problems. I kept walking for a while until I could see it. On the central platform there was a black sign that said "Del Viso" in white letters. There were not many people waiting on any of the three platforms. I crossed the level crossing to the shopping area. The buildings were not too tall, no more than two or three stories.

I had barely walked a few blocks when my cell phone began to vibrate in my pocket. I took it out and looked at the screen, it was from the parish, I had no choice but to answer. On the other end of the line was Basilio. He asked me to come back to the parish, that we would have a meeting about the baptism that was due in two weeks. I had completely forgotten about the mass, he had managed to distract me from my obligation. I replied that I would be back soon before I cut the call short. I crossed the level crossing again and walked without much haste, I was eager to continue walking, it was very similar to the place where I had grown up, it brought back quite a few memories.

—Good afternoon, Father Manuel.

I turned around when I heard my name, it was Gabriel who had gotten off the bus. He smiled at me while adjusting the shoulder strap of his backpack. I returned his greeting with a smile as well.

—Are you going to the parish?

—Yes, Father Basilio just called me.

He nodded.

—How far is it to your house? I can accompany you.

—There is no need, Father. Surely you have more important things to do.

—It doesn't cost me anything.

He had no choice but to agree to let me accompany him. We walked part of the way in silence. His eyes were on the ground and his hands were in his pockets. His light brown hair, almost blond, fell over his forehead, a little longer than other boys his age usually wore it. I noticed freckles on his left cheek extending down to his nose, I hadn't realized he had them when we first talked at the parish. The sunlight came down and they looked better. The little spots that dotted her face were not too dark, they could go unnoticed if you didn't look closely.

—Was he touring the neighborhood? —he asked, breaking the silence.

—Yes, Maria told me yesterday that we were near the station and the shopping area. I thought it was a good time to go and see what was beyond the parish.

—Did you see anything?

—Barely. I must have walked three or four blocks when they called me.

—Well, this is it," he stopped in front of a black gate. Thank you for coming with me, Father.

His dark eyes rested on me, he smiled at me again before waving. I waited for him to close the gate before I continued on my way to the parish. When I arrived, I went straight to the dining room. It was empty except for Maria, who was waiting for me sitting at one of the tables closest to the kitchen with a plate covered with a pot lid so it wouldn't get cold. I remembered that she was one of the people in charge of the kitchen today, which was probably why she had stayed to wait for me with the food. She was fiddling with a napkin, rolling and unrolling it around her fork over and over again, so engrossed was she in what she was doing that she was startled when I greeted her as I settled into the chair next to her. She brought the plate and silverware over to me as she whispered a short prayer of thanks for the food. I took the lid off the pot and found a cut of meat and a lettuce and tomato salad, it didn't look bad at all, especially with the hunger I was feeling at the moment.

—Father Basilio is waiting for you in the room where the meetings are held.

—Was he very angry?

—He never gets mad at anyone, don't worry," he put his hand on my shoulder and patted me. Where did you go?

—To go for a walk. I was a little nervous about the baptism and thought it would do me some good.

He nodded without another word. I hurried to finish eating, thanked him and got up. I went first to my room to grab my notebook and a pencil, then went to the classroom where Basilio was waiting for me sitting in one of the chairs. I excused myself when I entered, he shook his head, downplaying my tardiness. He motioned for me to sit down too, and I obeyed him, opening my notebook. He told me that he had already spoken to the families, he had set the two pre-baptism meetings for Wednesdays. The first was to be the talk about the duties of the godparents and how he was going to do the mass. The second was to be the rehearsal. Then he gave me some instructions on what I had to do for the sacrament. I wrote down everything he said with a trembling hand, again I was nervous. I went over the letters so that they would be halfway legible later. He commented that I could practice what I was going to do between activities, that he was going to be correcting me like in the seminary. I was a little calmer knowing that I would be practicing with him, after all, I was sure he had baptized at least a couple of generations in the neighborhood.  

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