It was Good Friday and this was the day you could get a plenary indulgence the easy way, just by going to Benediction and saying five Hail Mary’s and the Apostle’s Creed. Benediction was a snap. It was at noon and only lasted about twenty minutes. Just the right amount of time to say your plenary indulgence prayers, sing the best songs they ever had in church, and still not have your knees hurt too bad from kneeling.
I needed the plenary indulgence real bad because all my sins from the last year were stacked up on my soul. Even though when you went to confession you got your sins forgiven, you still had to go to purgatory for those same sins if you died. Purgatory was just like hell, only you didn’t have to stay there forever. I sure didn’t want to go there for even a day if I died because the fire there would cook your skin until it looked like fried pork rinds, which taste pretty good but not when it’s your own skin. And they’d torture you worse than the communists ever would and you’d scream and scream and no one would lift a finger until you paid good for those sins, which weren’t even that much fun to commit anyway, but sometimes you couldn’t help it.
In one of the books we got at catechism, it listed all the prayers you could say, and how much indulgence you got for each prayer. Indulgence was how many days you got taken off your purgatory time for saying that prayer. Like for a Hail Mary, you got 120 days off of purgatory, and for the Our Father you got 180 days. The Apostle’s Creed, which was really long, was only about 60 days. That wasn’t exactly a bargain.
My next youngest brother, Billy, and I used to see how many days we could collect by saying the shortest prayers with the most indulgences as fast as we could. I collected about 3,000 days once and he had almost as much. Then he said, “Now we probably have so many days we can do some sins for free because we probably have extra.” That sounded good, but what if we still didn’t have enough indulgences? Because they never gave a list of all the sins you could commit and how much purgatory you got for each one. Maybe it’d be a thousand years of purgatory just for pulling your sister’s hair.
Then we learned about plenary indulgences. They were the best thing ever invented. One plenary indulgence wiped out all the purgatory time for every sin you ever committed. All those other indulgences were like nickels and dimes next to a bazillion dollar bill. It was like a miracle.
Even though you could give indulgences away, why would anyone do that? I kept them all to myself, especially if I got a plenary indulgence. Because I needed it worse than anyone else I knew. And it was the only for sure way to get your soul completely clean.
So I actually wanted to go to Benediction even though it was sunny outside and murky inside the church. We all kneeled. Since I knew it wouldn’t last too long I tried to kneel the way you were supposed to, with your back straight up and your knees hard on the wood kneeler where it gave you knee bruises. Not sitting on your heels, not pushing your butt back against the seat, not hunched over the pew, and not wiggling around.
We sang “O Salutaris Hostia” and the priest took the host out of the tabernacle, which was like a little tent where the host lived. The host was flat, round, and was made out of just flour and water. But after it was blessed, it was a host and that made it the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Us Catholics believed it really was his body and blood and not just pretend like the Protestants. Mom said it was like a mystery that you never could figure out and shouldn’t even try.
The priest put the host into the middle of this huge beautiful gold thing that was also flat and round and looked like the sun with all of its rays pouring out all over the whole world. My big sister, Becky, said it was called the Monstrance. That seemed like a pretty awful name for the only nice thing to look at in the whole church, except for the baby angels that flew around Mary’s head and feet. All those gold rays in the Monstrance were supposed to make you think about how God’s love poured out that way. But the sun made me feel like it loved me more than Jesus ever did. God never felt as good as the sun.
Anyway, the Monstrance always reminded me of the sun and that the sun was outside and I wasn’t and in just a few more minutes I’d have no more purgatory left and then I could go out and jump around again. Of course, that’s when I did my worst sins, when I was feeling good, so I’d have to be careful and make my clean soul last a little while.
Once the host was inside the Monstrance, the altar boys started the incense. There were about five or six altar boys, since it was Good Friday. They walked around swinging the gold incense burners that weren’t really made of gold. The burners hung from long chains that were looped around the altar boys' hands. That way the boys could swing and rock those incense burners and get the smoke everywhere.
I always liked the first whiff of incense until it got so strong I knew I never wanted to smell frankincense again. Even though it was supposed to be a big deal present for the Baby Jesus from one of those kings, I bet he didn’t like it either.
They burnt so much incense that pretty soon you could hear people coughing and everything was hazy. Those altar boys never knew when to stop. But the smoke sort of glowed where the sun came in the window and looked like that picture of the Mormon guy who was in a forest standing in a smoky sunbeam when God talked to him. Then he started the Mormon Church.
We sang Tantum Ergo while the priest covered his hands with a fancy cape and lifted up the Monstrance. You were supposed to think about how Jesus was being tortured. And how he was being whipped with a whip that had little sharp nails on the end of it that dug all the way into the muscles in his back.
Just when you couldn’t stand another second of torture or smoke, we started to sing Holy God We Praise Thy Name. And you knew Benediction was almost over. It gave you the feeling of something good because you knew that pretty soon, you could run outside again. And on Good Friday, if you got a plenary indulgence, you knew you could die right then and not have to worry about one thing.
It was sunny outside and the sky was so blue you could fly right into it. But it was still Good Friday and you knew Jesus was hanging on the cross right then and would be dead at around three o’clock. So on the way out of the church another priest was waiting at the door to put ashes on your forehead so you wouldn’t forget. And you weren’t supposed to wash those ashes off either.
At dinner that night we all still had our ashes. Mom and the little kids had come to Benediction too. But on the little kids you couldn’t tell what was dirt and what was ash smudge. Mom and Dad were fasting from solids until Easter Sunday, so they just drank coffee. The rest of us got Bisquick biscuits and pea soup. It didn’t have any ham hocks because of no meat on Friday, especially Good Friday. Mom looked kind of serious and holy and I felt like I had a secret happiness inside that I knew I better not show anyone. But it snuck out anyway.
Luann and Francie, who were younger than me, were tickling each other and fell off the bench where they were sitting. Neither of them was hurt, but I think Mom wanted them to feel bad enough to start crying. Since they didn’t, she said, “You know, Jesus died on this very day for all of our sins and the least you could do is show him some respect.”
I said, “I don’t think he died for mine.”
“And why is that, Miss Sassy Pants?” Mom asked. Now I was in for it. But I didn’t know for what.
“Because I did a plenary indulgence today.” I said it like I was proud and glad, which I was.
“Sooo…” she said, like I was supposed to explain.
“So I don’t have any more sins because I went to confession and I don’t have any more purgatory time because I did the plenary indulgence. So Jesus doesn’t need to die for me because I’m OK.”
“What makes you think the plenary indulgence is for you?”
“Because I told God I wanted it for me.” Now I was worried.
“You can’t do it that way. You have to give plenary indulgences away. You can never do them for yourself or your own selfish purposes. The only way you could get a plenary indulgence for yourself is if someone else gave you one.” Mom looked like she was feeling better.
I could feel all the sins come swooshing back onto my soul like black, ashy ghosts. I didn’t want any more of that thick fuzzy green soup either. I just wanted to go lie down and pretend I was as dead as Jesus was by now. Now I’d probably have to go to purgatory for at least a million years.
That night when I went to sleep, instead of bad dreams, I dreamt about an angel who was kind of like a real nice Mommy. She was all soft and light and didn’t say one thing. Her hands were warm and knew everything. The wings were just for decoration. When she touched me, I got so limp I just molded into where she moved me. Everywhere she touched me I just fell into her, like she was candy and I was the sweet tooth. When she was all done, I felt good and clean and like I was strong but not mean. The dream felt like the realest, truest thing ever. It even lasted a little while after I woke up.
My bed felt cold, and pee smell was coming from the bunk below where my little sister, Francie, wet the bed again. Maybe this was the dream and the angel was real. Maybe I hadn’t woke up from a dream at all but was just starting to have one again. And this one wasn’t a very good one either. But if everything here was a dream, I sure didn’t know how to wake up from it.
At breakfast, which was Cream of Wheat, I said, “Maybe this whole world is the real dream and the dreams are the real world.”
Sonny said, “How do you figure that?”
I didn’t know how I figured that, I just did, but I couldn’t say that to him. So I said, “How do you figure it isn’t?” He just looked hard at his cereal and slurped it up so it sounded like slop.
Since he didn’t say anything, I felt even more like maybe what I said was true. I kept blabbing. “So I guess this is all just a dream. It probably doesn’t matter what we do here because you can do anything in a dream.” I knew I was on thin ice now, but I couldn’t stop once I got started. “I can even commit all the sins I want to and it won’t matter anyway because even purgatory is probably a dream.” I got up from the table and danced around like no one could ever get me again.
Maureen was listening to the whole thing and said, “It’s sacrilegious to talk like that, you know.” Like she was the queen of what’s right and wrong and I was an idiot sinner.
“It is not! I can think anything I want. And maybe it’s true. You don’t know anything anyway.” I stuck my hip out at her and made a snotty face.
Sonny, who was still shoveling down the Cream of Wheat, looked up and said like he believed me, “You know I think you’re right, I bet this is all just a dream.” He got up and came over to my side of the table. He came real close. “And it doesn’t matter what any of us does.” Then he slugged me as hard as he could in my arm. It jolted the milk and cereal in my stomach so hard some of it bubbled up. “So it doesn’t matter if I keep pounding on you or not. It’s just a dream, right, runt?” He slugged me again. “Unless of course, it’s not a dream and then maybe it hurts, right?” Then he stopped. I watched him walk to the bathroom where he’d probably stay locked up for an hour. I hoped.
Mom came in from the laundry room and when I told her Sonny pounded on me just for thinking dreams might be real, she said, “When you start questioning what’s real you’re on dangerous ground. You go too far and you might not get back again.”
I thought hard about what could be so dangerous about questions. Then I said, “But Mom, what if it’s true?”
“If it’s true, then we’re all crazy, but if it isn’t true, then it’s just you who’s crazy.” Then she looked at me kind of worried and touched my hair, but not the way the angel did. “And we don’t want that, do we?” I didn’t feel anything warm or soft anymore. Then Mom sort of swatted me on the butt and told me to go help Maureen sort the laundry. We had to get church clothes ready for Easter.
After the little kids went to bed, I got to help color the Easter eggs. We always started with the solid colors first, then we put oil in the colors so we could swirl them. I loved the swirled colors the most, but my stomach was hurting. It was like a fight inside between the angel dream and the gray ashes that were in my soul for keeps.
The next day was Easter Sunday. Mom told us we were going to the eleven o’clock mass and to remember that we had to stop eating our candy and eggs by eight o’clock, which was three hours before communion. And no liquids after ten o’clock, which was one hour before communion. That's because it was a sin to go to communion if you didn’t fast for the right amount of time.
I put on my Sunday dress, which had a matching blue jacket. It made me look almost as old as a teenager. Except for my hairy legs. I was almost nine years old and didn’t even notice how hairy they were until I saw how smooth and shiny Georgina’s legs were after she shaved. She was sixteen. Mom didn’t want any of the girls to shave their legs. She said if we didn’t ever shave our legs, the hair would all be gone by the time we were forty or so. She showed us her legs to prove it. But who would want to wait until they were ancient to have unhairy legs?
Nicky still needed someone to get him ready. I put some Vaseline in his blonde hair and rubbed it around so I could comb it straight up in the front. He looked so cute with his white little teeth and his red wool bow tie. He was done. Francie was next. I ironed her baby dress that was wadded up and wrinkled.
Pretty soon everyone was lining up for Mom to check how we looked. We were supposed to look like our house did when we had company. But Luann couldn’t find her shoes, Billy’s socks didn’t match, and Dean hadn’t washed his face.
Mom kind of hissed at Dean, “When are you going to act like you’re made out of something? Do I have to wash that filthy face of yours for you?” Dean turned and slunk into the bathroom. His face didn’t look clean to me either, but maybe it really was, and it just looked dirty. Why was Mom was so mean to him?
Meanwhile, Dad was yelling, “We’re almost late for church again, goddammit! This is the fourth Sunday in a row. What have all of you been doing all morning anyway?” Then everyone was running around screaming and yelling because we were going to be late.
I wondered why Mom and Dad could still go to communion after saying goddammit so many times. But they did. I bet if I said goddammit just once and went to communion after, I’d go to hell for it. Maybe that’s because I’m a kid. It’s a lot easier for kids to make mortal sins than adults. Because our sins are worse. Also, grown ups don’t have as many interesting sins to make.
We all crammed into the car. It was a nine-passenger and could barely hold all eleven of us kids plus Mom and Dad. My stomach still wasn’t feeling good. It was kind of bubbling. And right before we left the house I told Mom about it. She told me to drink some milk. I drank the milk right before we got in the car and now I was afraid maybe I drank it too soon before Holy Communion. I had to go to communion. Everyone had to. If you didn’t, everyone would know you did a mortal sin. Otherwise, why wouldn’t you go? So now I either had to go and maybe make a sin because I drank the milk too soon, or I’d skip communion and everyone would think I had a mortal sin on my soul.
It was mobbed at church. People were squeezed into every pew. That’s why we usually went to the eight thirty mass, because it wasn’t so crowded, especially on Easter Sunday. Mom said people came out of the woodwork to go to church on Easter because they felt guilty. She also said more of the alcoholics went to the eleven o’clock mass because they had to sleep it off from drinking on Saturday night. But no one there looked like an alcoholic to me. They were all dressed real nice and acted like they wouldn’t ever do something bad. Mom said, “Looks are deceiving.”
The ushers always made room for us to sit together, even if we were late. Dad knew them from the Knights of Columbus meetings. He always smiled, shook their hands, and looked handsome. We were supposed to be sort of a holy family because there were so many of us. It proved that Mom was doing the will of God. So when we all trailed in, even if we were late, it was like she was showing us off, especially to the priest.
I wanted to sit by Dad, but only the little kids got to sit by him. Francie held his hand and Jason got to sit on his lap because he was the youngest. I had to sit in between Maureen and Sonny. We were squashed together. Yuck. I could smell Sonny’s greasy hair. And Maureen smelled like Mom’s To a Wild Rose perfume. I wondered how she got it. Maybe Mom gave her some, but maybe she stole it. I wanted to catch her doing something bad, more than ever.
The yellowish-brown church windows were too dark to see through. If you stared at them long enough they made you think about God, saints, and sins. You’d forget all about the sun and since they only opened a few inches, you also forgot that there was such a thing as a breeze. It was always hot, and hotter than ever on Easter Sunday. The air was like a thick thing. When you breathed it in, it stuffed itself so far into your lungs you felt swollen inside.
We kneeled and stood and kneeled again and I tried to not think about how hard the wooden pews felt on my knees or how thick and gurgly I felt inside. I said the prayers in the missal, along with everyone else, and thought about how hard it was to keep anything clean. Especially your soul. Then I thought about the saints and how they had it good with God, but they got tortured all the time. Just for being Catholic. How they got their fingernails pulled out one by one. But they never gave in, even when their guts were all pulled out and they weren’t even dead yet. That’s why they were saints. I started to feel really sick.
We stood up again and I felt weak and wavery. The air was getting thick with holiness and went right inside me. Then it thickened up even more until I was filled with all the saints who were screaming from having their arms and legs ripped off. And God was too far away and too far inside at the same time. I couldn’t breathe one more thing. There was no room left inside.
I started to feel a bad kind of dizzy. It was hard and sharp and slammed me down onto the wooden pews as hard as it could. Then someone must have carried me out because the next thing I remember I was laying on the grass outside the church. I wanted to suck on that green grass and chew it with my teeth, but I couldn’t move. I sucked in the air instead and then the hard sharp thing grabbed my stomach and I was throwing up in the grass. Hardly anything came up, but it felt like the whole world was getting thrown out. Finally.
I was lying on my back on the grass. This time I breathed in and was OK. I was clean and empty inside. But I still couldn’t get up. I could hear my brothers talking real quiet about me and saw them out of the corner of my eye. I looked straight up at the fluffy clouds and blue sky and wished I lived there like a spirit or an angel. I’d fly and live way up above the clouds with other angel spirits where the air is so thin it sparkles with the sun and we’d never come down to earth again. And my Angel Mommy would hold me tight all night long.
It was hard to stay in the sky for very long because of the noise from the church. Mass was over and people were coming out of church. Their voices sounded buzzy and it was making me shaky again. I felt Sonny trying to give me some water. I sipped some from a paper cup and it tasted good except for the throw up taste in my mouth. I drank some more and after a while I sat up. Just Dean, Sonny, and Luann were on the grass with me. It was nice of Sonny to give me water. Everyone else stayed in church when I fainted. I guess they didn’t think it was any big deal because I had fainted in church before.
Mom, Becky, and Maureen came out looking holy-happy. Dad looked party-happy. Everyone else looked like they were just glad they didn’t have to stay in church one more minute. Mom checked my forehead for a fever and said I was OK. Then Father Laughlin came over and put his hand on my forehead. He was the cute priest with the long black eyelashes. Even Mom agreed it was too bad he was a priest because his beautiful eyes were getting wasted on God.
I smiled at him and tried to look like a saint. Which was kind of hard because I never felt very holy, even after communion when you should be the holiest. How could you feel holy when the body and blood of Jesus Christ was in your mouth and one of his arms or legs might be stuck in your teeth and the rest of him was getting mixed up in your guts? Just the thought of God inside me made me feel a little sick again. The Angel Mommy, baby angels, the sun, or even thin air spirits would be OK inside. But that’s all! I was really sorry to God, but I didn’t want him or Jesus or any of his saints inside. I hoped it wasn’t a mortal sin.
“Too bad yee missed communion. How are yee feeling?” Father Laughlin said.
I said, “A lot better.” I started to stand up and he took a hold of my hand and helped me. It was embarrassing. He was so nice and was touching me.
“Perhaps yee can receive the Blessed Sacrament with yeer dear Mother sometime this week. We love seeing yee little ones.” He smiled and blinked. His eyelashes were thicker and blacker and longer than any I’d ever seen. I started nodding and before I knew it, he said, “Aah good. The Lord loves yee.” I sure hoped he didn’t think I promised him something. Because I liked Father Laughlin. I just didn’t like church, and there was no way I was going to go to church during the week with Mom.
I went over to where Sonny, Billy, and Dean were standing in the parking lot, kicking dirt and gravel. Mom and Dad always talked with the priest and some other grown ups after church so all of us had time to kill before we had to get back in the car. Sonny and Billy were talking about the engines in the cars that drove out. I was trying to be nice to Sonny for giving me the water before, so I acted like I cared about the dumb cars.
Really though, I was just feeling the sun. It was like it was alive and doing good things to me, to the weeds sprouting up in between the pieces of gravel, to the little ants that were carrying dirt packs on their back, and to the birds that you heard sing but never saw. Then I got the idea for the Big Trade.
I said to Billy, “I have a proposition.”
“What is it?” He squinted like he thought I was going to pull a fast one.
“It’ll be good. I promise, but we need to talk private.” I didn’t want anyone else screwing this up.
“OK.” We walked over to where no one would hear us.
“You remember what Mom said about the plenary indulgences? How we couldn’t give them to ourselves?”
“Yeah. And now the one I did on Friday is no good.” I knew he was just as upset about it as I was.
“Yeah, but we can still give them away.”
“But why would you want to give it away? Why do all that work for someone else?”
“Well, maybe because they’d do something just as nice for you.” He stuck his tongue into his cheek so you could see it rolling around, and I knew he was thinking hard.
“Ohhhh. I get it. But if I give my plenary indulgence to you, how do I know you’ll give yours to me?”
“Because I promise. Stick a needle in my eye. Besides, we’ll both do it at the same time.”
“OK...now?”
“Now.” We both closed our eyes at the same time.
After a second or two I asked, “Did you do it?”
“Yeah, did you?”
“Yep.”
We both smiled real big and purgatory was gone. I could start all over again with a clean soul. The sun was doing good things. And for just a few seconds we held hands while we walked, the way we did when we were real little.