Holy Kiss

I went boy crazy in kindergarten. A little early you say? Perhaps. But I made a wise choice. This guy was a total geek. Big brain, glasses and everything. Grew up to be one of the biggest geeks in high school. D is now a big shot political think tank geek getting paid the big geek bucks. But I blew my chance with him when we were five, fighting off any other kid that might want to nap next to D. D was my main man. I drove D crazy. He was so not interested. *sigh*

 

Then I got shipped off to Catholic school and D, being Jewish and all, stayed in public school, where I had gone to kindergarten. And although we remained friends (we lived in the same neighborhood) and I continued to chase him down wherever I could, it was never the same as sleeping next to him on a mat. Oh, D! You're not even on Facebook! I'm still trying to chase the guy down!

But forced away from my beloved D, I gave up boys entirely. Well, I was kind of forced to give up boys, since I was being watched by hawk-like nuns at St. Chuck's. The nuns tried very hard to keep the boys and girls separated. It didn't work very well, because since we were all of six and seven, we didn't really understand their warped reasons why we needed to be separate.

By second grade, I had all but forgotten my love and desire for D, and I was completely over boys for the time being. They had grown rather stupid and boring and totally immature for my seven years. They played stupid tricks in class and were loud and noisy and very, very dumb. Even the boys that were my friends were ranked beneath my girlfriends. Girls were just more fun.

But I was good friends with one boy, S. He was an Irish lad. His dad had the coolest house, with all kinds of antiques and things in the yard and a storage shed. And now S owns the best Irish pub in Btown. So, I still had good taste, even though we were just friends and there were no naps involved.

Anyway, as Catholic school kids, we had a church right there at school. It was very handy for things like, well... going to Mass every other damn day. (By the time I reached my early 20s, I figured I had gone to Mass enough times to cover me until I was in my 50s, so I just asserted my adult right to NOT go anymore!) It was also very handy in a daring game of hide-n-seek. You were taking your life in your own hands if a nun found you in there. The parish priest was a little easier going, but he wouldn't be too happy to find tou there either.

On this particular day, S and I were having a deep, thoughful conversation. I don't remember what it was about, but we ended up walking over to church to get some space. And I don't know why, but instead of sitting in the pews, which would have been plenty private, we decided to sneak back into the sacristy.

For those of you who don't know, the sacristy is the place behind the alter, where the priest gets ready for Mass. We were both familiar with it being an alter-boy and alter-girl. And there was this very cool "secret" hallway behind the alter that everyone loved. So we were back there talking and giggling.

Then S told me he needed to tell me a secret. So I leaned in. And S leaned in. And I turned my ear to him. And he put his hand up to tell me his big secret.

And he KISSED my ear!!!!

And my ear and the rest of my face went completely red. And I started to giggle. And then I started to laugh, kinda loud. I mean, he kissed me!

And S looked a little embarassed, but he didn't laugh. And then he looked very serious. But I couldn't stop giggling. I mean, he'd kissed me in church!!!!! For God's sake! He'd kissed me in CHURCH! I kept giggling until S shook his head and pointed behind me.

I slowed my giggle as much as I could, but fits and starts kept bursting forth in nervous guffaws. But as I turned around, I saw the face of Jesus.

Well, it wasn't actually Jesus. It was Father C, who looked a lot like Jesus. But Jesus looked very, very angry. Have you ever seen Jesus look angry? It is NOT a pretty sight, let me tell you.

He grabbed us both up by our shirt collars and I thought to myself, "I wonder how much he saw?" I mean, you know - did he see the kiss? Or was he mad because we were in the secret hallway behind the sacristy? Or was he just in a really bad mood? What was the level of anger here?

He hauled us across the parking lot to school where Sister M was monitoring a vicious game of kickball. He talked to her in a low whisper. I strained to hear, as did S, but we couldn't figure out how much he'd seen. But Sr. M turned violet and grabbed our collars from Fr. C and marched us inside.

Yeah, he'd seen everything. Oh yeah. We were in BIG trouble. God was extremely disappointed in both of us. I was a little confused as to why God was upset with me for the kissing part. I'd been taken totally by surprise. This made me angry at S. God should be extra angry at S. But apparently, God was evenly distrubuting his anger at both of us.

We were banished from recess for the rest of the week. And it was a Monday, as I recall, so that was a lot of recess. We sat inside the rest of the week and I glared at S. And S grinned his cute little Irish grin at me until I grinned back... at the end of recess on Friday. All was forgiven. I was a good Catholic girl, after all. *giggle*