Red silk habit

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When I turned 15, Sister Inés came to the parish. She was a humble young woman, very pretty, in her twenties, a new nun in deluxe edition, a potential Eve. As my mother said at home, she had been transferred to our parish by direct orders of the bishop. Sunday after Sunday she sat on the corner of the bench, which placed me very close to her divine grace, since my mother insisted on always sitting in the first seats so that my father would not fall asleep.  On a Lenten Sunday Sister Inés came to talk to my mother and told her about the altar boys' courses that she was going to offer in the midst of the scarcity of resources. Then she asked me if I wanted to be a member of the altar boys. I replied that I had to think about it, I was never completely devoted. When I arrived home my mother began to speak as if she had already accepted, she really wanted her son to be part of a religious group.  The following Sunday I approached Sister Inés and told her that I would join the group of altar boys. Classes were held on Fridays. In a short time, I mastered everything there was to know, and it wasn't very difficult either. After being ready to be an active part of the Mass, I deviated a little from my apocryphal plans and gave up participating. However, I couldn't miss a Sunday Mass, my mother wouldn't let me defect from the parish. In exchange for that, she allowed me to sign up for sports groups.

By the time I was almost eighteen, I was a real sportsman, which did me a favor. At that age the girls fought over me, so I had several girlfriends until I received the Lord's call, my mother with an "ear pull" took me to church. Voluntarily re-inserted into the parish, I had no choice but to balance sport and prayer. To soften my mother, I decided to serve as an altar boy. That made her happy, her son in an offering to God. On the day of my first mass I had to bring the water and the wine to their place, that's why I was practicing before, behind the altar, to do it perfectly. Unfortunately, on my white shirt impeccably ironed by my mother, a few drops fell. In my mind everything had been ruined, if my mother found out she would kill me, once for staining the shirt and once for throwing the blood of Christ on me, I heard the gnashing of teeth, my condemnation. Immediately, I went to Sister Inés, who hastily tried to solve my problem, she could always be trusted and her gratitude. I went to the bathroom to hide from my mother, Sister Inés approached the door and said to me: "take off your shirt, I will wash it while you are at Mass and put this one on". I did so, but after so much running away from my mother I had forgotten what was going on outside.  I half opened the door to give my dirty and stained shirt to Sister Inés, at the same time that I asked her for the shirt she would wear, one that in fact was quite squeezed, I was sure that my mother would notice it. Sister Inés opened the door with a half-sided smile. She looked at me from top to bottom. Her hands helped me get dressed, without haste, "the sport did you good," she whispered. It accommodated me from top to bottom, it accommodated the folds that formed a little below the waist, the sound of the bells reclaimed me, the bells rang and echoed inside me. He took my shirt and my words. I went out to the altar, I had to stand right in front of the bench on which Sister Inés sat, it took her a long time to arrive, but she did not miss Mass. While Father Joshua preached, I felt the eyes of Sister Inés looking at what was under her cassock, mine. That Sunday I heard nothing of the word of God, I only felt slaps that went down my back and ended in the buttocks, my forehead was sweating to think that the nun knew the secret I was hiding in front of everyone. The Mass became eternal, all the pagan ideas swarmed through our minds, through the morbid minds that watched me from the benches, while they kneeled, to pray. When it was over, my mother went to the back of the altar to embrace me, she was proud to the sky.  Sister Inés interrupted the hug and congratulated my mother for having such a good son. She asked my mother for time to congratulate me alone. We walked away, she gave me my clean shirt and told me to put it on before my mother came back. I walked away to go change in the bathroom, but she stopped me. Whisper: "Don't go, I don't want to miss the best of the show. Fearing my mother's return, I immediately changed all my clothes. My mother came back calling me, it was taking a long time. That Sunday afternoon everything in my head started spinning. When I turned eighteen I didn't go back to church, I got away from everything. My family shouted in the sky, to the right of the father and to the left of the Holy Spirit and at the feet of the Virgin.  Banished from the sky, for my mother I was just one more son, a very sinful one, one who 5 years later took Inés to dinner at home, wearing an apple red silk suit, a color that we incrusted in our teeth before exile.

F. JaBieR