On my back in bed – staring at the ceiling – I held the phone far enough away from my ear that her voice wasn’t deafening. Being shouted at by a woman wasn’t on my list of favorite things to do, but I learned early in life to allow it.

“Tell me he’s going to be okay,” she said.

“They said he’ll be fine,” I said. “It’s mostly dental work.”

“You and those boys were always acting the maggot in school, but I never thought you’d do something so savage to anyone close to you,” she said, her voice thick with her Irish heritage. “Brock Cashton. I’m ashamed of you.”

“I’m ashamed of me, too, Ma.”

“You’re not a bogger any longer. You could get away with your foolishness here, but in the city, it’s different. If you end up in real trouble, I’ll come down there and give you a clatter myself. It’ll take more than a dentist to fix it, too. Don’t think I won’t.”

“I know you will.”

“Did Graham put you up to this?” she asked. “He was always a cute hoor, that one. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“It wasn’t Baker, Ma. I did it on my own.”

“Care to tell your mother why you’re always a feckin’ chancer?”

“I’ve been seeing this girl, and she--”

“You’re what?” she shrieked. “You’re courtin’?”

“Not really.” I sighed.

“I nearly had a heart attack. Who is she?”

Considering her degree of excitement, I didn’t have the heart to tell her Kimberly wasn’t speaking to me. Hoping that repair of my relationship was possible, I decided to explain who Kimberly was as if she were still active in my life.

“I’ve been seeing her for about a month,” I said. “Both of her parents passed from a car wreck ten years ago. She doesn’t have any family here, but she’s got some in Texas. She’s beautiful, smart, sweet, and she’s a great cook.”

“You need to bring her to meet your mother. I’ve been here on me tod since you left.”

“Ma, I’m trying to tell you what happened.”

“And, I’m trying to listen to you.”

“This new guy, he’s always getting drunk and saying dumb shit. This girl I’ve been seeing is biracial. Her father was black, and her mother was white. This new guy found out, and he called her a nigger. That’s why I hit him.”

“Brock Cashton!” she bellowed. “You can’t beat sense into someone. He’s entitled to his opinion no differently than you. You don’t have to agree with how he thinks, but beating him over his belief makes you the worse man…”

“Ma, he--”

“Houl yer whisht,” she snapped. “I wasn’t finished speaking.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If he believes the color of her skin makes her different than him, all you can do is show him he’s wrong. Is she a good woman?”

“She is.”

“Is she polite? Respectful?”

“She is.”

“You have nothing to fear. Take her to him and let him see who she is. Let him make his own decisions, will ya? Hatred is a difficult thing to overcome, but ignorance is impossible. I’ll pray he’s filled with nothing more than hate.”

“He might be a little of both.”

She chuckled. “So might you, you feckin’ eejit.”

“I love you, too.”

“Apologize to your friend, and hope all isn’t banjaxed. Does this lass have a name?’

“Kimberly.”

“Bring Kimberly for dinner, will ya?”

“First things first, ma. I need to apologize to Reno.”

“Well, listen to ya.” She laughed. “You’re not an eejit after all.”

* * *

For a man who didn’t apologize, it sure seemed I was doing a lot of it lately. I stood over Reno’s bed truly embarrassed about how I reacted to his remark.

Both eyes were black, his lips were swollen, and it appeared he was missing every tooth that a smile would reveal.

But, he wasn’t smiling.

“All I can do is apologize. I’m not making excuses, Brother, but I blacked out. I was mad as hell, don’t get me wrong, but I never should have done this to you.”

He rose to his elbows, took a sip of water, and gazed down at the floor. “I get drunk and thay thit I thouldn’t. This ain’t the first time.”

“Little kids and drunks are the two most honest fuckers on the planet, Reno. You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it. I’m not here to blame you for--”

“I was raithed differently than you,” he interrupted. “I’ve heard your thstories about Belfatht, and about how they treated the Catholics. How your mother uthed to tell you bedtime thstories and thit. Well, I grew up different. A black family moved into my grandfather’s neighborhood. He burned a croth in their yard. Went to jail for it, but he went proudly. It wathn’t nineteen fifty, either. It was about ten yearth ago. In my family’s eyes, blacks are nig—" he paused. “I was raithed lithenin’ to it, but I don’t want to believe it. I’m thorry, Brother.”

“She ain’t speaking to me right now,” I explained. “If she decides to one of these days, I’d like for you to give her a chance.”

He nodded. “I’ll do it. Duth tshe know what I thaid?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t tell her.”

“Can you not? Not tell her?”

Making up with her – if that time came – would come a lot easier if I could explain what actually happened. Protecting her from Renos family’s hatred would be far more important, though.

I gave a sharp nod. “I’ll keep it to myself.”

He sat up. “I’m sorry, Cath. I truly am.”

I extended my clenched fist. “Not as sorry as I am, Brother.”

He pounded his fist against mine and grinned.

“You might want to keep from smiling until they get some teeth in that mouth of yours. You look like hell, Brother.”

“Feels worth,” he said. “It’s hurth like hell.”

It sure does.