Ivory Soap
I used to want to be a priest when I was little and my mother said, “You can be anything you set your mind to”
On Tuesdays we used to go to the health food shop after my brother had CCD. We would walk with my mother from the church on the top of the hill all the way down to the corner. Seating ourselves at the luncheon bar, I’d always order a small cup on cream of broccoli soup with little oyster cracker.
Now, I can barely remember this weekly tradition, which I once cherished. It is surprising how many things I’ve lost and gained throughout the years. My mother used to be happy and she cared about making us better people.
Once when I was in CCD, I remember answering a question about Jesus and receiving a piece ivory soap in the shape of a shell. I carried it with me in the purse my Grandfather gave me for my seventh birthday. I thought if I brought the soap to church with me it would protect me like Jesus protected the lamb.
On St Patrick’s day my mother forgot to pick me up. I stood outside choking back tears and practicing my rosaries until she arrived half an hour late. She said, “your father was supposed to pick you up but he was drunk.” He was always drunk.
On the day of my first communion I got plum colored marker on the sleeve of my white dress. In frenzy my mother slapped me across the face and I fell to the ground. My grandfather came in and she came to her senses apologizing profusely. “it’s just that I wanted everything to be perfect.”
We stopped going to church when the police took my father out of my house. My mom blamed it on a lack of acceptance in Catholicism.
Sometimes I miss the smell of the incense and the stained glass. This was when early Sunday mornings had a purpose. Father Quinn would give me preferential treatment and Sister Dido always had something important to tell me about her missionary trips.
Now I don’t know if they’re alive anymore and I can’t remember how to say the Hail Mary. I don’t believe there are Angels in the clouds or that Jesus is as real a piece of soap. Sometimes I think that maybe if I had something there wouldn’t be so much nothing drowning me.
*Maria Jayne is 20-years-old student of Journalism. Her skills include petting cats and general misanthropy. Her blood is 92% water and 8% radio waves. She worries that her hair is longer than her life line.
