by Mary Pearson
her dress would be red and he seemed agreeable to her choice of color. She also asked him who he had been talking with that morning (even though she knew already). She couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy.
“Just my peeps,” he said.
“I saw you with a blond girl,” she persisted.
“Oh, Junie?” Darius’ look was noncommittal. “She’s just a sophomore girl in my circle of friends. Junie’s OK, you’d like her. You really should hang out with us more often,” he suggested. “As far as I can tell, you spend most of your time alone.”
“I mostly study when I’m at school.” Stacy’s reply was defensive.
Darius punched her lightly on the arm. “There’s more to life than school,” he said before he left.
It was early Sunday morning—Stacy was just getting ready to go to church with her family—when she got his call. “Stacy, I need to see you right now. It’s urgent. I’ll be by in a few minutes to pick you up.”
She really didn’t want to miss church on Sunday, but his tone had been so urgent. When his truck pulled up in front of her house she ran, barely managing to call out to her family that something had come up. They should leave without her.
“What’s the big emergency?” she asked, as Darius pulled away from the curb.
“The florist says she needs forty dollars right now for the corsage and boutoniere. I don’t have it, Stace. Can you float me a loan?”
Stacy winced. Then she mutely dug in her purse and handed him the cash. She couldn’t believe she had missed Mass for such a trivial thing that could so easily have been done later.
“C’mon,” he said. “I’ll show you the ones I picked out.” He drove to a strip mall florist and ushered her in, a protective hand about her waist. “Gladys, I’d like you to meet my lovely girlfriend,” he introduced her to the proprietor.
Gladys held out a thickly veined hand, which Stacy shook.
“Here’s your money, by the way.” Darius handed the woman the cash he had gotten from Stacy. “Can you show her how they’ll look?”
Gladys dutifully leafed through a catalogue until she came to an arrangement of sweetheart roses and baby’s breath. “There you go, hon’“ She pushed the book closer toward Stacy.
“That will be lovely,” Stacy murmured, but she still felt like crap.
“Let’s hang out together,” Darius suggested as they left the strip mall.
Stacy couldn’t see why they shouldn’t now that she had missed going to church. There was nothing on her schedule and she didn’t particularly want to face her family.
Darius took her to the apartment he shared with his older brother. They baked a couple of store-bought pizzas for lunch and watched videos until his brother, who worked swings, had to go. Then Stacy was alone with Darius.
He brought her home at ten that night. She barely spoke to Emily and her mom, going straight to her room. Not only had she missed Mass that morning, but now she would again need to go to confession before she could receive communion. It’s not that they had done all that much; they’d really just messed around, but she knew she wasn’t clean. Her soul felt heavy.
She tried to read a bit more in Divine Mercy, but when in a vision Faustina received a golden belt to wear around her waist that made it so she would never be tempted to be impure sexually, Stacy wished it could have been her instead. Not that she would have enjoyed giving it up. Sex was Stacy’s favorite thing and her strongest temptation. She loved being in love. She had noticed and remembered the cutest guys in her class since kindergarten. She really wouldn’t want to have no more interest either, because she knew it served a purpose, and more than anything Stacy someday wanted to be a mother. She just wished she hadn’t hung out with Darius for so long unsupervised. Unsupervised. Stacy smiled ruefully. She was almost eighteen. She needed to supervise herself from now on. She was in charge of her own soul, and she knew it.
That night Stacy had her second apocalyptic dream. This time she was in a war zone. There were wounded everywhere and she was picking through the rubble, looking for the ones who could be saved. Stacy was startled to find an alien-looking Creature, ancient and shriveled in appearance. He/she seemed to be very gravely wounded and Stacy gathered the Creature in her arms. The Creature smiled at her serenely. “I can answer your questions,” she heard him say inside her head.
Before thinking, Stacy blurted, “Will Darius go to Heaven?” The Creature’s face became downcast. “No,” he said with regret. “As it now stands he will not.”
“And Libby…?” Stacy asked him. It seemed the only question worth asking for some reason. Once again the Creature sadly shook his head.
Distant crashes almost like thunder alerted Stacy that time was running out. She hesitated. Then, bracing herself, she asked. “Will I…?” She couldn’t even say it. The Creature’s face became regret itself. Large tears rolled down his craggy cheeks as she heard the answer she knew she would hear even before she asked. Stacy laid him gently where she had found him. In her dream she got up and slowly started to walk away. Then, suddenly she turned around.
“But wait,” she ran back to the creature. “It can change?” She was now holding him, searching his face desperately. “I can change.” Her voice was almost pleading.
The Creature’s crestfallen appearance became aglow as though this were a great revelation for which he was extremely grateful, “Yes!” he almost shouted it in her head. Stacy awoke with a thunderclap. Tears were streaming down her face.
It was Saturday morning – the day of the Winter Formal dance—and St. Jude had not come through for her after all. Stacy had really not expected that he would, not after lying to her mom, messing around with Darius, and the worst part was that now Stacy didn’t even have enough money left to pay for the cheapest satin dress at the mall—not since Darius had borrowed the money for the flowers. She would have to come up with forty dollars somehow or she would be naked tonight. She knew that Emily had one of those old fashioned piggy banks. George had given it to her years ago. Stacy knew there was money in that pig—more than enough to buy the dress. Anyway, Emily didn’t need money for anything and she would probably never even notice it was gone before Stacy was able to return it. Stacy quietly crept downstairs and took forty dollars from her sister’s bank. Then she put on her coat and headed out on foot.
The dream she had after her day with Darius had lingered in her mind, haunting her as she went about the days at school and work. She felt the need of confession stronger than she had ever felt any need. Stacy knew there were confessions available prior to every weekend Mass. There would be a Mass this morning. She should be able to make it in time to talk with the priest.
Stacy was fortunate that there was no one in line that morning when she arrived at Holy Apostles. The priest was sitting behind a screen in a side chapel. She could see it was Father Joseph, the younger Associate pastor. Fearing the condition of her soul more than what he might think of her Stacy entered, closed the door and sat on the chair facing him. She limped through the formulaic preliminaries. Then she quickly launched into her sins. She told them all, everything she could remember having done since they got back from the conference. It was easier this time because she could actually remember her sins. When she was done, Father Joseph told her she would have to return the money to her sister. Stacy deep down had already known this. But she was sure Emily would gladly loan it to her anyway. She just hadn’t wanted to explain why she no longer had enough money for her dress. It didn’t paint Darius in a very favorable light, and he was already on shaky ground with her family. Father also reminded her that sex was sacred and not to be engaged in outside of marriage. She needed to discern whether Darius was the partner for whom God had created her. She needed to discern her vocation. When he absolved her it was just as it had been at the conference, Holy Spirit waves dancing up and down her spine.
As soon as she got back Stacy returned the money. She was just getting ready to wake Emily to ask her if she could borrow it
for the dress when she was suddenly surrounded by her mother, grandmother and Emily, who was beaming. They were carrying boxes. Rose placed a large ribbon-wrapped box on the table in front of Stacy. Her eyes were teary. “Why didn’t you tell me about the dance? I would have been happy to help you.” She brushed her daughter’s hair back from her face. “Open it.”
With trembling fingers Stacy untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. All she saw was red velvet. She began to sob. The dress was even more beautiful than she remembered. She held it up in front of her and hugged it, grateful tears streaming down her face. “Mom, you can’t afford this…”
“I can,” Rose assured her. “This is important to you and I want to be a part of every big event in your life. Stacy,” she hugged her daughter impulsively, “I’m so happy to do this for you!” Then she stepped back. “Now open the rest.”
Grandma Annie gave her two boxes. The first contained delicate red slippers, the second a satin sequined purse to match. There was still one small box on the table.
Grandma Annie picked it up and gently caressed it. “This is one of the few things remaining from my mother’s estate. I have these two necklaces, and I intended to give them to the two of you when you were old enough.” She laughed slightly and glanced at Rose, teary-eyed. “I
