May We Be Forgiven

says, “pleased to meet you.”
    “He’s my brother,” Ashley says.
    “Welcome to the family,” my mother says, distracted.
    “Thank you,” Ricardo says. “Congratulations on your wedding.”
    “Can Ricardo be the ring boy?” Ashley asks. “He wants to be in the wedding too.”
    Bob gives Ricardo the ring, and Ashley is given a basket of rose petals. The music begins, and Ashley starts off down the aisle, followed by Ricardo. I take my mother’s arm and lead her down the aisle while one of the nurses takes Bob Gold’s arm.
    Bob Gold, I realize, is my new stepfather. Somehow this dawns on me when he and my mother are side by side facing Cynthia, the “energy worker” and former nurse who has agreed to perform the ceremony.
    The ceremony itself is surprisingly moving, even though it’s not legally binding. The words pronounced upon my mother and Bob stress companionship and good care, memories and history. I am on the verge of tears when my mother throws her bouquet and it’s caught, or more like lands, in the lap of a woman with one leg, who smiles. “You never know,” she says.
    My mother and Bob cut the cake, and when Bob moves to feed her the first bite, his hand is shaking so badly that Mother takes his arm, guiding him towards her mouth.
    I overhear two aides talking.
    “Is he moving into her room?”
    “Apparently,” the aide says. “They’ll put their beds side by side. Let’s hope the wheels stay locked and they don’t fall in the crack and break a hip.”
    When it is over, the residents are ushered back down the hallway for an afternoon nap, and we bid the newlyweds adieu.
    We’re all dressed up with nowhere to go. “Do you guys want to go out for an early dinner somewhere nice?” I ask, as we’re walking out to the car.
    “We could,” Ashley says. “Or we could go home and have, like, a pajama-and-pizza TV party.”
    I look at Ricardo buckling himself into the back seat.
    “I would like to try someplace new,” he says.
    “How about we go into the city?”
    Both kids nod. “That would be inventive,” Ashley says.
    I take the kids to the Oak Room at the Plaza and we have Shirley Temples and club sandwiches; it’s the most fun I’ve had in years.
    “My cousin used to work in a hotel,” Ricardo says, as he’s digging into a thick slice of cheesecake. “He’d come home with his pockets full of chocolate coins that they put in the beds at night—can you imagine going to sleep in a bed filled with chocolate?”

    I ’m thinking all too well of myself when I tell Nate that I found some novelties to bring to South Africa—mini-solar chargers for cell phones.
    “That’s nice,” he says. “But what they need is solar heat for the houses, solar hot-water heating, lights for the village at night—maybe think a little bigger.”
    “Okay,” I say, “note taken. Is there someone in charge at Nateville, like a mayor or an elder?”
    “Sakhile is the induna , the headman. His wife is Nobuhle. Mthobisi, Ayize, and Bhekiziziew—his top dogs.”
    “How do I contact them?”
    “Usually I e-mail.”
    “They have e-mail?”
    “They do now,” he says.
    “And how do you send money?”
    “Lots of ways—through PayPal, or on Dad’s credit card, or direct into a bank account. They also do a lot of banking via cell phone. And there’s also, like, a corner deli near Nateville that processes the charge and gives them the cash.”
    “How much do you send?”
    “A couple hundred dollars a month.”
    “Where do you get it?”
    He’s quiet for a minute. “You really want to know?”
    “I do.”
    “Selling stuff.”
    “What kind of stuff?” I say slowly, hoping that by stretching it out I won’t show that I’m panicking.
    “School supplies?” Nate says like he’s not sure himself.
    “Nate, right now this story has so many holes, it’s like Swiss cheese. Pony up.”
    “Okay, okay, so, like, when a kid here at school needs to buy something at the school store …”
    “Yes?”
    “I buy it for him on my account, which is linked to Dad’s credit card, and the kids pay me in cash, and I send the cash to Nateville.”
    I’m relieved.
    “No one minds,” Nate says. “They think it’s a good cause. They’re very ‘keep the change.’ I did this thing last fall: whenever someone bought a school team shirt, I asked people to buy one for the school there.”
    “What does the head of your school think about that?”
    “It’s not exactly something he can