Secrets

What would Jesus do

My uniform at Blessed Sacrament Elementary school consisted of a red plaid jumper, white peter-pan collared blouse, white knee socks, and black Mary-Janes or black and white saddle shoes, depending on my mood. Both were allowed. My blouses were ironed by my mother on Sunday nights, her cigarette burning in a nearby ashtray, while she alternated sprays of starch with long, sexy drags. I sat beside her on the sofa bed watching Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color. I didn’t think Jesus would object to my choice of programming. I thought the images of bees collecting pollen and birds feeding their young aligned perfectly with the Lord’s sensitivity to all living creatures. I knew if Jesus was sitting down right beside me now watching TV, which Father Kidney promised during Mass, that Jesus was always right beside me, I thought He would love the story of Kelly, the German Shepherd, beginning her four-month training as a seeing eye dog with the young and handsome Matt Howell. I had a secret crush on Matt Howell but wasn’t about to share that with Father Kidney in confession. I knew I would be given three Hail Marys and four Our Fathers to cleanse my soul of any temptation. I kept Matt Howell a secret. I kept a lot of secrets back then. My friend Tammy made me swear on the Holy Bible not to tell that she and Johnny went behind the large metal trash containers next to the handball courts so she could pull down her underwear to give him a peek. I never told anyone how Tammy stole the Communion wine after we received our First Holy Communion, then sold it to her older brother Matthew for a dollar. Tammy was always pushing the boundaries, rolling up the waistband of her skirt making it shorter the minute she left the house. She once put a pair of rolled up knee socks inside her undershirt making her look like she was a 36DD and went into Rexall, casually walking around as if it was natural for a nine-year-old to be that stacked. I could keep all of Tammy’s secrets, her lust for boys, her pent-up sensuality, her need for attention, all just simmering under her starchy collar and red plaid. I kept other secrets as well, secrets that nine-year-old girls shouldn’t know or see, secrets that cause pain and confusion. Like the time my drunk Uncle George unzipped his pants and pulled out his erect cock and showed it to me laughing, while I waited for my mother to come out of the bathroom. That was the first time I had ever seen a penis, all veiny and stiff, and it terrified me. I sat frozen on the couch, unable to speak, praying my mother would hurry up and finish peeing. I kept that a secret. But there was one secret I was asked to keep that I couldn’t. A secret that crossed a line. A secret that was never talked about again. A secret that would change my life forever. A secret called “The Peanut Butter Game.”