The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [163]
Kyrie eleison!
He had to keep his mind on the mass particularly because he had acted like such a bastard last night on Christmas Eve. He prayed. He watched Jim Claybum go by him, tall, erect, dignified in a conservative black suit. Jim turned and pointed to a pew seat a couple of yards in front of Studs, and Studs stared at Jim’s thin, white face, set above a high stiff collar. A man genuflected and took the pew seat pointed out to him. Jim strode back, smiling a weak recognition at Studs.
Studs looked at the lighted altar. Standing in the middle of it, extending his hands, then joining them, Father Doneggan intoned:
Gloria in excelsis Deo, et in terra pax hominibus .. .
Studs knew that he was singing the praise of Almighty God, but couldn’t remember just what this part of the mass was called and what it symbolized. Hell of a Catholic he was. He mumbled Hail Marys. Again he listened:
Quoniam to solus Sanctus. Tu solus Dominus ...
After his prayer, the priest bowed down to kiss the altar, and again turned to face the people and chant:
Dominus vobiscum ...
The choir replied:
Et cum spiritu tuo.
Studs closed his eyes, opened them. Covertly, he rubbed spittle on them in order to remain awake. He shuddered with a sudden shock, as if of electricity, when the squirrel coat of the voluptuous blond next to him rubbed against his leg, just above his knee. He started saying another Hail Mary, but his thoughts were distracted before he concluded, and he wondered what had happened last night. There had been that raid. Jesus Christ, he’d been afraid. He had been so goddamn shaky that he’d jumped from the second-story window, spraining his ankle. It hurt now. But he was proud of his stunt, escaping from the Law, perhaps being the only one who had. It was something they’d remember around the poolroom and the corner for a long while.
He gazed around the church to see if any of the boys were present. Seeing none of them, he guessed that they must all have been picked up, and were enjoying Christmas Day in the can. He knelt forwards and slumped his shoulders, because kneeling erect was tiring. He grimaced with a sudden pain in his ankle, and had to maneuver his right leg. He felt that she was looking at him, thinking he was a clown. His expression became serious and circumspect. He felt her eyes upon him. He would impress her. From the corner of his eye, he saw a finger on her rosary beads, a soft finger, soaped in whiteness, the long nail polished and shinily pink. He side-glanced and saw her thin face, powdered, neatly rouged, a long straight nose, wide lips, an expression of calm sophistication. The squirrel coat touched his leg. Imperceptibly, he let his body edge a fraction of an inch towards her. He heard the mumbling sounds vaguely as Father Doneggan bowed over the altar and silently uttered the prayers in preparation for the reading of the holy gospel. He yawned. His mind re-turned to last night. He almost fell asleep, and as if he were coming to his senses, he heard Father Doneggan swiftly chanting:
Sequentia sancti evangeli secundum.
He felt a sudden elation as if he had realized one of his dreams, because he was, he knew it, on the verge of doing just that. He always, each day when he got up, and every time he went to church, had the feeling that maybe he might meet a girl, the girl he knew he would some day meet. And now this girl next to him, maybe she was the one. He quickly palmed his hands together, and tried to pray, and to look like he was praying, with proper seriousness. More aware of her than of the ceremonies, he pattered out the unthought words of the Our Father. He arose with the people, and stood like one in a dream. He sat down, hoping now, maybe, he and she would sit with their thighs against one another. He saw, in surprise, that Father Doneggan stood by the altar rail with a black book in his hand. He arose for the reading of the gospel, determined to listen:
The shepherds said to one another: Let us go to Bethlehem, and see this thing which is to come to pass, which the Lord hath showed us...
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