Читать книгу Addy's Redemption: A Novel - Juliana Ormsby - Страница 8

Chapter II

Confession

Some people who go to Catholic school hate nuns, but Addy did not. Her teachers at St. Mary’s were very intelligent and treated her gently, perhaps because she was an orphan. In addition, many of these women had been missionaries and shared vivid stories about the difficult circumstances they encountered when sent to poor countries to establish hospitals and schools.

Nuns take vows of poverty and chastity, and for the most part, seem to lead humble, simple existences. Helena had always reminded Addy that the nuns had the lowest position in the Catholic Church acting as maids to the priests.

When Addy recalled the over-stuffed, pompous priests who visited with Aunts Sophia and Hazel after Mass, vows of poverty and chastity never came to mind. On the contrary, those priests lived lives of luxury, with collections of fine china and crystal, summer homes, trips to the opera in New York City, and frequent vacations abroad. When Addy got older, she was shocked to learn that the Church never defrocked errant priests but simply transferred them to other parishes or positions. This information made her secretly hate those priests, but of course, she never shared her feelings with Lionel. Parish-funded hedonism … that is how Addy viewed the life of a priest.

Naturally, Lionel loved the priests. In many ways, he was like the worst of the wicked among them: hypocritical, self-indulgent, and vile. Addy, always fair-minded, however, knew that not all priests were bad. She had read that in the olden days, Catholic families felt especially blessed if their sons became men of the cloth. Many poor parents saw the priesthood as the only hope for their sons to receive an education as well as free room and board. Addy wasn’t sure, but she suspected these priests were probably decent fellows. Still, she hoped her sons Peter and James would never consider a religious vocation. Lionel, on the other hand, would have loved if the boys chose the priesthood. Then he could puff up even more while he played the role of the devout, humble deacon. What Lionel didn’t know was that Addison viewed God as a vengeful puppeteer watching his pathetic creation limp along in suffering and pain. After all, hadn’t she prayed for an end to this living nightmare of life with Lionel? She knew she had to stay for the children’s sake. She stopped praying about the abuse and just wished Lionel would die.

Lionel’s beliefs about God were straight out of the Baltimore Catechism. Addy still remembered that thin, blue-covered book: the doctrine for Catholic children. When she was a child, the drawings of two bottles of milk had intrigued her. One bottle held plain white milk, but the other contained black flecks. The dirty milk represented the soul of a sinner. After all these years, Addy still recalled the rote responses she had memorized:

Question: “Who made us?”

Answer: “God made us.”

Question: “Why did God make us?

Answer: “God made us to show forth his goodness and to share with us his everlasting happiness in Heaven.”

All Catholic children learn about two kinds of sins: mortal and venial. Mortal sins are transgressions against the Ten Commandments, whereas venial sins are less serious. Addy’s eyes filled with tears when she remembered herself as an innocent little girl confessing she had “stolen a grape” from the grocer’s display. She did not want to take the grape, but Helena put her up to it. Addy admired Helena so much; she would do almost anything to maintain their friendship.

Although to the outside world, Addy’s may have appeared the ideal Catholic life, how comically far from the truth. Lionel had made her “damaged goods,” just like the aunts’ view of Helena and her mother, Mary Kurowski. Addy was certain that Helena and her mom had never participated in the smutty things Lionel forced her to do. The few times she protested, Lionel made it clear that, as a Catholic wife, she must submit to her husband. Aunts Sophia and Hazel had often praised Lionel for coming along and saving Addy from the life of sin and degradation she might have faced if she had moved to New York with Helena…what irony.

When Catholics go to Confession, they name their sins, and the priest gives a penance of prayers to recite according to the severity of their transgressions. Addy wondered what Lionel’s confessions were like. When he was not out of town “on business,” he went to Confession every Saturday afternoon. Addy went along just to appease him, but she gave the same list of sins each week: “I ate meat on Friday. I missed Mass on Sunday.” Most often, her penance was three Our Fathers and three Hail Marys. Of course, Lionel and Addy never went to Confession at St. Michael’s because Lionel was so involved in that parish; the priest may have recognized his voice. Lionel took Addy around to various Catholic churches in the area, using the excuse that he wanted to get a peek at them.

Lionel must have rationalized that God forgave his sins, at least until his next Confession. One Saturday Lionel drove her to a church in Middletown. Drowning in depression and self-loathing, the last thing Addy wanted to do was to stir up even darker thoughts as she searched her mind for sins. Her gloominess came about last night when she and Lionel attended the wedding of their neighbor’s son. Addy observed just how tenderly some men danced with their wives. Why was she stuck with a beast?

Addy knelt in the dark confessional and waited to hear that familiar yet frightening sound of the priest slowly opening the panel on his side of the confessional. At that moment, Addy’s heart beat so rapidly she was sure she would faint. The screen that blocked her view of the priest consisted of a strange material Addy had never seen anywhere else. It was a corrugated, perforated partition covered with a thick, yellowish waxy substance. Only a Catholic who has knelt in a confessional would recognize the distinctive odor of this veil-like window through which you could see the shadowy outline of the priest.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” Addy began mechanically. “It has been two weeks since my last Confession. These are my sins.” Then, almost as if someone else were speaking, Addy blurted, “I want to divorce my husband.”

The priest was silent for a moment then replied, “The Catholic Church does not approve of divorce under any circumstances.”

Choking back her tears, Addy whispered, “But he beats me.”

Cold and matter-of-fact, the priest answered, “Make an appointment to see a Catholic marriage counselor. It is sinful to even think thoughts of divorce.”

Addy left the confessional in disbelief and walked zombie-like to the altar. Her deep hatred for the Catholic Church rose inside like a raging fire. She wanted to run through the sanctuary screaming, “DEMONS. YOU ARE ALL DEMONS.”

Instead, she glanced over at Lionel with his fat head bowed in holiness.

“You fucking son-of-a-bitch,” ranted Addy in her head. “If this is your religion, you can stick it up your ass, just like your fucking filthy dick you love to stick up my ass.”

Addy no longer felt guilty about the foul rebellion that played out in her head. It was what kept her sane. She knew that her marriage was very wrong and unhealthy, but she had no way to escape. If she killed herself, the children would have to stay with Lionel, and God knows what he would do. As difficult as it was to go on, Addy had to be an anchor for her beloved Peter, James, and Mary.