The Lord's Prayer

I remember the first time I braved the darkness before dinner. Everyone sat peacefully around the large, rectangular table with their eyes closed, myself included. It was our family routine to pray before we ate any meal.

My father’s uncle was a priest in the Catholic Church, so needless to say he took it very seriously. This religious interest became my father’s own divine hobby because of his admiration for his uncle.

“Let us pray,” Father said moments before.

I closed my eyes long enough to fold my hands, then cautiously stirred my awakening. I had never opened my eyes during prayer before, though I had been a part of it my entire life. It was a rule that was taught when learning how to pray. It was also a rule not to break any rules. A child, however, can only abide by certain rules for so long before a hankering curiosity takes over.

I opened my eyes and looked to my left and saw Father sitting at the head of the table. “Our Father,” he said, “Who art it heaven.” I looked to my mother’s side of the table and watched as she calmly took her easiest breath of the day.

My eyes watched quickly so I wouldn’t get caught. The two oldest siblings, my twin sisters, sat silently reverent on their side of the table. They don’t do anything but act like twins and sing in the church choir. They were in high school.

“Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,” my father continued.

I then turned to my sister Mary on my left with her eyes pinched shut, hands and fingers flatly frozen together as if in applause. She thought she was my mother and acted like it. I don’t know if I looked up to her at the time because she demanded it or because I actually admired her. She seemed to be the golden child while I grew accustomed to the leather belt. Maybe that is what I admired in her. With the prayer coming to an abrupt, insincere ending, I quickly and inconspicuously shut my eyes.

“Forever and ever, Amen.” My father said.

I finished my dinner like a fugitive without saying a word.

In a family of four teenage girls, and a devoutly religious father, it is hard to achieve attention. Between puberty, vocally prude twins and a self-righteous sister, I found myself sitting on the church steps in a sense, waiting to be allowed inside. It is hard to get God’s attention in a “perfect” world.

One day, weeks later, Mary and I were walking home from school. She would wait for me at the stop between our two schools so we could walk home together.

“How was school?” She asked.

“Fine.”

“Did you kiss that boy Sam again?” I casually kicked a stone down the street and then looked up at her as she talked.

“I don’t know any Sam.”

“Yeah you do. Did you kiss him?”

“I don’t know Sam!” I screamed and bolted up the pavement. My bag weighed me down and swayed side to side with each frantic step.

Within seconds a firm hand grabbed my backpack and slammed me to a stop. Out of breath, I whimpered, “I don’t know Sam, and it was only on the cheek,” and sat down on the curb to cry.

“So you do know Sam,” she accused with her shoulders back, smiling.

I sniffed my snot and wiped my salty tears on my sleeve. Calmly, she said, “look at me.”

I did. I looked right up into the darkness of her big brown eyes. She waited a second before she spoke, maintaining her power.

“You can’t kiss boys. You are far too young. And that is not just me talking, that is what Mother says.”

“You don’t kiss boys?”

“No, she said, and looked down the street. I couldn’t tell if she was looking worriedly for someone or just ready to move on home. I followed her eyes down the road and saw nothing. She then turned back to me and said, “It only leads to sin is what Mother says.”

We walked the rest of the way home in total silence, I about three paces behind her trying to keep up with her long, scrawny legs, and she keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

When we arrived home in the mid afternoon, we had to fend for ourselves like we always did. Father and Mother worked late, and the twins had choir practice up at church. We were on our own until supper.

“Now go inside and do your chores, I have to clean the shed out back.”

“Why?”

“Because that is my chore this week silly. Don’t you need to pick up the kitchen?”

“No, clean Sandy’s box.”

“Oh. Well, go along inside and I will find you later.”

When I opened the door, I dropped my heavy red bag to the floor and walked to the kitchen. Sandy sat on the countertop meowing her little gray head off. I fed her. Then I went to her box and clumsily scraped its contents into a clean, white trash bag. When Sandy was finished eating she ran out through the kitty door and into the back yard.

“Sandy!” I yelled. “Sandy get back here! Where are you going?”

I ran to the door, unlocked it and stood in the doorway trying to locate her silky gray fur in the tall green grass.

I saw her move towards the shed, seemingly assuming she was unnoticed. She explored the overgrown, tall grass like a jungle cat. I began to creep up behind her slowly but surely trying to play with her. As Sandy approached the side of the shed I was crouching by the shed door. I took a deep, quiet breath as I was about to pounce out around the corner when I heard an unmistakable giggling.

“What the…” I whispered. I stood quietly not moving a muscle. I heard it again, but this time there was someone else giggling too. I gently pulled the lever and let the door creak open.

Mary was lying on her back still in her uniform. A boy was kissing her neck and tickling her waist. My mouth dropped to the dirt floor like an iron anchor. Without hesitation and with comfortable practice, the boy undid Mary’s blouse and moved his hand inside, while shifting his kisses to her lips. I couldn’t help but to yell. I took off towards the kitchen door in a haze, my red eyes pouring.

“Kate!” I heard her yell. “Kate, come back!” The wind soared and deafened my ears while her voice grew softer and softer as I approached the door.

I slammed the door, bolted the lock and slid down to my knees, wiping my eyes with my hands and my hands with the carpet. I couldn’t move, so I just cried. Finally, I ran up to my room and didn’t emerge until dinner.

Later that night, Father proclaimed, “Let us pray.”

“Our Father,” he began, “who art in heaven.”

I opened my eyes like the first time and saw my father.

“Hallowed be thy name.”

I looked across the table to my mother.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

I slowly, guilelessly shifted my eyes to my older twin sisters on the other side of the table.

“Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts as we forgive those who trespass.”

I calmly turned my gaze to my sister, Mary.

“Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.”

I looked down at my hands resting in my lap. My naivety had vanished.

“For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory for ever and ever”

“Amen.”

I didn’t have to open my eyes this time because they were still open. I grabbed my fork and finished my dinner without a word.