As the Mass progressed, I held back tears. Amid everything that was new and strange to me, the familiar rituals gave me comfort, but they also stirred loneliness inside me that was never far away. I thought of the small village church at home, where I knelt surrounded by our neighbors, and listened to Father McGinty. This American priest, however, spoke with little of the fiery passion Father McGinty summoned up every Sunday to scare the devil out of us.

Mrs. Donahue nudged me, and I started. She nodded toward the altar, and I realized it was time for communion. A row of priests stood at the foot of the altar, chalices in hand and communion hosts held aloft. As it happened, I’d had nothing to eat since midnight, as was the rule, and so without thinking I stepped out of the pew and joined the line of people moving toward the altar. It was a practice I had followed since I was seven years old, and as natural as my own breathing. I was halfway up to the altar when I froze. What was I doing? I was in a state of mortal sin and I had not been to confession. How could I take communion? Sweat began to pour down the back of my neck. My panic rose as I looked around me, and then at Mrs. Donahue.

“I-I don’t feel well,” I whispered. “I think I’m going to faint.”

She looked at me in alarm. “Go on outside, love,” she said, “and get some fresh air.”

I nodded and pushed my way through the crowd to the huge front doors of the cathedral. Once outside, I stood on the top step, my breathing ragged. I had not lied to Mrs. Donahue; I literally felt sick.

I walked to a corner of the steps and sat down. In all the years I had put up with Ma’s abuse, I had never felt so empty and so worthless. It was only a small lie, I told myself. After all, it didn’t hurt Nora; she was already dead. And I’m doing it for Lily.

But a lie is still a lie! roared Father McGinty, his image crowding close to my face.

Part of me wanted to roar back at him, It’s all your fault. If the likes of you hadn’t filled my head since I was a child with threats of the fires of Hell for even the smallest sin, I wouldn’t be suffering the way I am now! But my courage failed me. Guilt, once it’s imprinted deeply on your soul, is almost impossible to get rid of. It becomes as much a part of you as your heart or your reason, and you realize if you let go of it, you will lose a part of yourself along with it.

Nora

Nora