The Big Book

As I was saying, although I didn't have to attend Sunday School, it was mandatory that I still go to Sunday Mass, actually to appease my dad.  And at the time of Lent, I also had to go to the mysterious stages of the cross, something I actually became nauseated by because Father Burgess swung his incense burner right next to me as we moved down the aisle from one stained glass window to another. I'm not actually sure what made me sick, the images of a man stumbling with a cross on his shoulder, or the fragrance of the incense.

It wasn't clear to me who or why this person was suffering, and why we had to "suffer" with him. Maybe I would have found out had I continued Sunday School, but I don't think so.

The Mass on Sunday was useless because it was all in Latin, except for a few minutes of announcements from Father Burgess.  Other than that, I had no understanding of God as seen through the Roman Catholic lens.

It began when my parents went out for the evening and left me with my older sister. I really didn't mind because Annie made me laugh, and she was "cool".  She hung around with the cool guys from high school, and she smoked.  It wasn't unusual to see her on the back of Kenny's Harley weaving the narrow roads along the shoreline of the water.  (She never had to go to church, even on Easter.)

So that night, we were up in my room on the third floor, and Annie said, "Hey Ange, I'm going out for a few minutes.  Stay right here in your room. Okay?" And with that, she left to the roar of Kenny's Harley.  I knew she would be gone for at least a half hour. Probably longer.

It was easy to determine just about where they were by the sounds of the Harley, the gear shifted as it climbed S-curve, a narrowly twisted ribbon of dirt road that hugged the woods on one side and the water on the other.  I waited until they were past the hill, down the other side, and faded onto the main road.

I had a plan.

Admittedly I felt a bit scared alone in that huge house.  It was the first time alone at night. Our living room (on the second floor) was a place I spent most of my days practicing classical piano. I had nicknamed this cozy retreat the "piano room" and for the most part, I pretty much owned it until my father came home from work.

There were a few rules about the living room: no friends, (Annie broke that one a few times), don't fool around with the thermostat, and don't touch the BIG BOOK on the coffee table.

Annie had been gone for just about ten minutes.  My steps were quick down the hall to the wooden stairs.  I slung my legs over the banister and slid all the way down, jumping over the last two steps. I pulled the chain of the lamp and went over to the coffee table.  It was actually what I had wanted to do for weeks, but I wondered if I should do it in the living room or in my room...

I ran upstairs with the Big Book under my arm, jumped onto my bed, looked out my window for a few minutes, and then began to read.

"Ange, hey Angelina."  Annie was calling from the bottom of the stairs.  "Why is the light on down here?  Didn't I tell you to stay in your room?"

Whatever was she doing back so early? Well, actually, it was over an hour.

I looked down at the Big Book.  Chapter 20. The Gospel of Saint John.

© Angelina Lenahan (Previously published 2017)

Excerpt from Perseverance, ch.1