thats what the consumption does to you. It doesnt matter anyway,
St. Francis, because I love Theresa. I love her as much as you love any
bird or beast or fish and will you tell God take the consumption away
and I promise Ill never go near her again.
The next Saturday they give me the Carmody telegram. From
halfway up the street I can see the blinds are drawn. I can see the black
crepe wreath on the door. I can see the white purple-lined mourning
card. I can see beyond the door and walls where Theresa and I tumbled
naked and wild on the green sofa and I know now she is in hell and all
because of me.
I slip the telegram under the door and cycle back down to the
Franciscan church to beg for the repose of Theresas soul. I pray to
every statue,to the stained glass windows,the Stations of the Cross.I swear
Ill lead a life of faith, hope and charity, poverty, chastity and obedience.
Next day, Sunday, I go to four Masses. I do the Stations of the Cross
three times. I say rosaries all day. I go without food and drink and wher-
ever I find a quiet place I cry and beg God and the Virgin Mary to have
mercy on the soul of Theresa Carmody.
On Monday I follow the funeral to the graveyard on my post office
bicycle. I stand behind a tree a distance from the grave. Mrs. Carmody
weeps and moans. Mr. Carmody snuffles and looks puzzled.The priest
recites the Latin prayers and sprinkles the coffin with holy water.
I want to go to the priest, to Mr. and Mrs. Carmody. I want to tell
them how Im the one who sent Theresa to hell.They can do whatever
they like with me.Abuse me. Revile me.Throw grave dirt at me. But I
stay behind the tree till the mourners leave and the grave diggers fill in
the grave.
Frost is already whitening the fresh earth on the grave and I think
of Theresa cold in the coffin, the red hair, the green eyes. I cant under-
stand the feelings going through me but I know that with all the peo-
ple who died in my family and all the people who died in the lanes
around me and all the people who left I never had a pain like this in my
heart and I hope I never will again.
Its getting dark. I walk my bicycle out of the graveyard. I have
telegrams to deliver.
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