Page 94 of My Heart Still Beats
And that bartender…
Images long buried flood my brain.
A white dress. White panties.
And an altar boy.
An altar boy with sandy brown hair and light brown eyes.
…
Fifteen Years Earlier…
“You look like a princess, little one,” Nana says.
My communion dress was made special by a seamstress. She took measurements and everything. It’s soft and shiny. Mommy says it’s made of satin. It’s the brightest white because white symbolizes purity.
“What’s purity?” I ask Nana.
“It means you are a good girl, Tessa. It means your soul is pure.”
I’m still not sure I understand, but I love the dress. It has fancy lace around the neckline and the hem, and the sleeves are short. I hate long sleeves. They make me itch. But my favorite part is the big bow in the back. I keep turning and turning in front of Nana’s big mirror, trying to see it.
Nana smiles at me. “You’re such a pretty girl, my Teresa Maria. You will break so many hearts one day.”
“I don’t want to break anyone’s heart, Nana.”
“Oh, but you will.”
“What if someone breaks my heart?” I ask.
“Whoever does that will have your nana to deal with.” She grabs my hand. “It’s time to go to church.”
I had to go to class to get ready for my first communion, where I learned all about the communion wafer and the wine and what they mean.
The church isn’t far from our house, and we get there quickly. It’s an old building made of gray stone. I told Nana once that I thought it looked like a castle, and she said that, in a way, it was.
Mommy takes me to the sacristy where the church ladies are preparing for the Mass. The other children who will get their first communion today are already there. There are four boys and three girls. My dress is the prettiest, I think.
She kisses my cheek. “Be a good girl, Tessa. This is such a happy occasion for all of us.”
Eva tugs on Mommy’s hand. “Why can’t I have first communion today?”
“You’re not old enough yet, bunny,” Mommy says. “Let’s go.” She leads Eva out of the sacristy, looking over her shoulder and smiling at me.
Father Sam isn’t here yet, but the church ladies smile at all of us and then leave the sacristy one by one with the altar scarves. Nana told me once that they’re called liturgical clothes. They’re always different colors.
The other kids and I are alone until an altar boy enters.
I don’t know his name—I think it begins with a D, but I’m not sure—but he’s tall with light brown hair, and his voice makes funny squeaks when he talks. I’m sitting by myself when he comes over to me.
“That’s a pretty white dress,” he says. “Come with me. Father Sam needs to talk to you.”
“He does? Does he need to talk to all of us?” I glance at the others.
“He already talked to them. Come with me.”
I swallow. “Mommy told me to stay here and wait for Father Sam.”
