After adding the lunch dishes to what was already in the dishwasher, I started it, and dressed for Mass. I wasn’t sure that Steve would be at St. Michael’s on Sunday, but since he had been at a bar with his buds, I guessed that he wouldn’t be attending on Saturday evening.
I didn’t need anything too fancy, a business blouse, and skirt would work. Brush the hair out, let it fall over the shoulders, and put in the silver barrette for contrast. A bit of mascara, and a quiet lipstick like “Truly Toffee” should fill out the look of a good Catholic girl. I slipped on my Navy Caridad pumps. Leather upper, square toe and a two-inch heel with good arch support. Mmm, good shoes feel good. I tucked my keys into my blue purse, turned out the lights, closed the door, and left.
Georgetown has good roads, so the ten-minute drive was peaceful. I do enjoy the Spring evenings here near the shore. The newly green trees flipped past, and I enjoyed the smell of the fresh growth all around as Nature began another year. Life surrounded and washed over me.
When I have children, I’ll be sure to take them on evening walks in the Spring. The aliveness of the world is fresher then than in the Summer. Summer evenings are sweeter smelling, but there is lustiness in the odors of the bloom of Spring I find exciting.
Although I thought that Steve would not be in the congregation, I still looked about after pulling into the parking lot and before slipping into a pew beside the center aisle. It might be inconvenient if Steve saw me here before he got to know me better. Some people get the weirdest ideas and make all sorts of assumptions about Catholic girls – even Catholic boys. I always wonder why they label people so easily when the effort of discovering a new individual can be so rewarding.
No importa. Their problem.
Fr. Stolitz was in top form this evening as he led us through the familiar, comforting rituals. Most priests perform the rites gracefully, but this evening his charm showed through also, and I let him lead me to join the millions of faithful around the world in worship.
The spell was interrupted halfway through the Credo, when someone’s phone went off with an annoying ringtone. ¡Idiota! People should know better! People DO know better! Irritated, I looked to my right, across the center aisle to see who the imbecile was who didn’t care if he ruined everyone else’s experience.
And locked eyes with my Viking on the other side of the aisle.
I smiled and waved to Steve at the Sign of Peace, then spent the rest of Mass figuring out how to respond to him after Mass.
After Fr. Stolitz processed out of the church, Steve walked over to my pew.
“Hi, Anna. You look great!”
“Hello, Steve. I thought you were playing foosball with your friends.”
“I got knocked out in the second round, and since I have to clean up the apartment before tomorrow afternoon, I thought I’d get Mass out of the way early.”
“You’ll do time for that, Steve.”
Steve bent down and straightened the missalettes at the end of the pew. “Come on. You know what I mean. I’m going to be up late tonight and up early tomorrow cleaning the apartment for you. I bet your place is already spic and span.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “It’s OK. Now anyway.”
“So, you want to go to dinner or something? I’m starving.”
Ha! In for the kill. “If we go out to dinner, when are you going to get your housework done?”
“Alright. We can go to McDonald's or somewhere fast?”
“McDonald's? Is that your idea of fast food?"
