Chương 33: ECCE AGNUS DEI

With a tut of triumph, Una captured the last handicapped space in the church lot. They parked beside the Cottonwood Madonna. Years ago, a parishioner had carved the Virgin Mary into a hollow of the old tree with a kitchen knife. Two days after the carving was complete, he died. Una had told Robin the story at least five times.

"Wait here" she ordered. Wisely, she took the keys. Robin watched her hobble across the lot and barge into the Sacristy. He was tempted to just leave. Only the promise of the game later kept him in his seat. He baked in the car for a while, then pretended not to see her when she beckoned him. Robin let her make it halfway to the car before he looked her way, then acted surprised and hopped out to join her. She huffed with exasperation. Petty, but effective.

"I spoke with Father Jonás. You can keep your hat on during service," Una explained.

"Oh." Robin touched the brim of his Cruz Azul cap. He wore it so much he forgot he had it on. Una was trying to do something nice for him and he'd made her walk more on her bad hip. He felt rotten.

"Thank you." It took a while to make their way around the church to the entrance, but they were still early. Father Domingo met them in the vestibule and droned on forever about all their programs for teenagers. Robin tried his best to be polite and act interested. He was never coming back here. Robin and Una were both relieved when the priest flapped away to the nave. Una chose a pew close to the back. They sat in a fog of frankincense and copal beside a stand of red glass candles.

"He never shuts up," Una confided in a whisper.

"But, be nice to him. Domingo's the one who runs the bird program." It had been years since Robin had been to San Felipe de Neri and nothing had changed. It was still a sea of gaudy white and gold, with painted saints, and a wooden cross. Everything smelled and felt old. His eyes fell on an image of a sheep with a sword. GLORIA IN EXCELSIS, ECCE AGNUS DEI.

"What's that mean?" Robin asked.

"Glory to the highest; behold the Lamb of God," Una translated.

"Cool. Will Mass be in Latin?" Robin honestly couldn't remember how it was before. His memories of the church were split between being unbearably bored and getting hissed at and smacked.

"Not anymore. That rat Sanchez took it away," Una grumbled. She glanced around the pew.

"Don't tell anyone I said that. The new Archbishop is a tree-hugging hippie. If you want to hear a real Mass, there's a secret one at Our Lady of Sorrows in Bernalillo."

"That's ok." People began to fill the pews. A few greeted Una and Robin, but most shuffled by like they hadn't seen her. Robin wondered if it was because of him, or Una. Maybe there was some unspoken agreement not to bother people who sat at the back. A family with a young boy passed by. He pointed at Robin and loudly asked why that kid got to wear a hat. The boy caught a hard swat from his father and got dragged down the aisle by his arm. Robin felt a twinge, but it was just a kid, he didn't know any better.

After all the big talk about youth programs, Robin hadn't seen anyone else his age.

"How long will this take?" Robin asked.

"A little over an hour. If we're lucky, the homily will be Father Jonás. He doesn't waste words."

"Do we have to mill around after?" Robin could remember being stuck in the plaza with Una's hand locked on his, desperate to escape. Grandpa Hector always wanted to talk to everyone and their cousin under the blazing sun.

"No." The pews filled up and Father Domingo shuffled by, chanting and swinging a smoking thurible. They did the Confiteor and Robin half-heartedly whacked himself in the chest like everyone else. It was such a goofy thing to do. He sat through the bilingual liturgy, noticing the creed and consecration were much more weighty in Spanish. The English version seemed almost flippant by comparison. Then came the Gospel. Father Domingo droned on and on until Una pinched Robin's arm.

"Stay awake and sit up straight!" she hissed. Just like old times. Robin complied and glanced around. He wasn't the only one. Heads swayed throughout the nave. Why were all these people here, wasting their Sunday? Vlad was a better orator than this yammering priest. At last, Father Jonás climbed into the pulpit and cleared his throat. Robin steeled himself for another snoozer, but Jonás had other ideas. His voice was loud and strong. The whole cathedral responded, alert and anticipant.

The sermon began with the Eagle of Meaux and his Panegyric on the Holy Angels.

"Think not of them as shadows. They are the ministers of the Almighty's lightning. One single Angel, by the mere exertion of his will, could overturn the foundations of the earth and send the stars into chaos, for they move the very spheres of heaven. Their anger is not like ours; it is a holy, tranquil fury. They do not hate the sinner, but they love the Justice that strikes him. They are the iron walls of the City of God, and those who strike against them are broken into dust."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Robin sat up. This was more like it! All around the room, eyes were shut and heads were low. It wasn't from boredom. They strove to drive out everything but the Word. There was something in Father Jonás that was impossible to ignore. Una had her eyes closed, her brows were knit with effort.

"See the Angel of the Lord as he passes through the camp of Sennacherib! In one night, without a sound, without a sword being drawn that human eyes could see, he strikes down a hundred and eighty-five thousand men. Behold the terrible silence of angelic wrath—it does not shout, it does not boast; it simply extinguishes." In the room full of rapt worshippers, smothered by incense and heat, Robin could almost see it.

A crescent blade of black antimatter swept through the besiegers of Jerusalem, annihilating all it touched. He wished he had his Diario to take notes. Father Jonás moved on to the ninth homily of Clementine:"For the demons, having power by means of the food given to them, are admitted into your bodies by your own hands; and lying hid there for a long time, they become blended with your souls.

And through the carelessness of those who think not, or even wish not, to help themselves, upon the dissolution of their bodies, their souls being united to the demon, are of necessity borne by it into whatever places it pleases. And what is most terrible of all, when at the end of all things the demon is first consigned to the purifying fire, the soul which is mixed with it is under the necessity of being horribly punished, and the demon of being pleased.

For the soul, being made of light, and not capable of bearing the heterogeneous flame of fire, is tortured; but the demon, being in the substance of his own kind, is greatly pleased, becoming the strong chain of the soul that he has swallowed up." As the sermon ended, Father Jonás' eyes landed squarely on Robin. A chill ran through his neck. Something needful in the priest's stare reminded Robin of the coyote. He was glad when Jonás moved on. The collection basket swung by on a pole.

Una pressed fifty cents into his hand. With regret, Robin tossed away two birds worth of work. The bells rang for Consecration, they said the Lord's Prayer, and they sat through communion while Pescador de Hombres (Fisher of Men) strummed on a twelve-string guitar.

"The mass is ended, go in peace." Una was as eager to leave as Robin. They were the first ones out the door. The Falcon started on the first try, as if it too, was eager to escape.

"See? I told you, Father Jonás is good," Una said. Robin had to agree. He couldn't wait to get home to his Diario. * Una stopped at Furr's supermarket on the way home and bought fresh tamales for lunch. When the dishes were through, she clicked on the radio and began to roll out dough. Robin painted birds at the kitchen table. He was still irked, but mostly over it now that the ordeal was over. As she baked, he realized Una was making his favorite cookies. It was a peace offering.

Una's special cookies had a powdery crust of dark chocolate and cinnamon. Inside was a marshmallow center and a dollop of raspberry jam. Una called them bizcochizos de malvavisco (marshmallow biscuits). The smell reminded Robin of Christmas. When the first tray was done, she poured two cold glasses of milk and they each ate a piping hot cookie. It was like biting into a perfect mug of hot chocolate.

"I was going to shape these like dragons, but there's no time. I suspect those boys won't mind."

"These are so good. You know, I went to a bakery in Amarillo once and asked for these. The lady didn't know what I was talking about. She offered me some wedding cookies but they weren't anything like this."

"It's my secret recipe, no one else has it. Regular Biscochitos have lard. These cookies use cream of tartar."

"Like in fish sticks?"

"Ha! No. Tartar sauce doesn't have cream of tartar, and cream of tartar isn't a cream. It's an acid, made from the rime in wine barrels. It makes the dough light and keeps the sugar from forming big crystals."

"Wow. There's a lot going on."

"It's all chemistry. You'll learn this in school, very soon. Robin, are you sure you feel up to going out again today?"

"Do I look that bad?" Una hesitated too long.

"You look like you need to rest."

"I will, I promise. We're going to the doctor tomorrow, anyway." Robin was ambivalent about the check-up. He wanted to get something to help with the headaches, but he was also worried about what Dr. Suarez might say. What if she told him no more games, or put him back on that awful diet?

"I know your friends want to see you, but if you need to stay, they'll understand."

"I'd just be sad here in bed. The game helps me not think about it. I always feel better when I'm around the guys," Robin explained. In her face, there was something Una wanted to say. She declined.

"All right. Take it easy, please. You can call me anytime if you need me to pick you up, ok? Don't be late."

"I won't." He returned to his painting. It was strange, the way she was babying him. Una used to make him walk to everything. Back when he was nine, she once kicked him out of the car for mouthing off. He had to walk halfway across town to get home. By the time he got back, the sun was setting and his church shoes had rubbed the backs of his ankles raw. Una put iodine on them and told him it served him right when he cried. She looked over a few times while Heart of Glass played out on KFMG-FM.

The years in radio showed. Una waited until a break between songs to speak.

"I'm sorry I made you go to San Felipe. I know you didn't want to. I hope you got something out of it."

"It was uh, well, the sermon was kind of cool," Robin searched for something to say that wouldn't commit him to going again.

"Father Jonás said he would be willing to talk to you, if you have questions about anything. He's very wise," Una offered.

"That's all right." She didn't press any harder. The afternoon flew by. Robin finished a bird just five minutes before Duncan was supposed to arrive. He went to the bathroom to wash up. Oh. The boy in the mirror was pale with haunted wells under his eyes. He tried to brush the bad taste out of his mouth and when he spat, it was red. His gums were bleeding again. No wonder Una was taking it easy on him. He looked horrible.