"You have thrush."
"Do not?"
"What's that white stuff? Papal duty?"
"Up yours Shannie."
"There's something else you can confess about. Let's see," she began counting my sins on her fingers. "By the way," she said when she finished my rap sheet "Better brush up on your Hail Mary's, Our Father's, and your tongue every morning and night."
She was right. Later in church, after the priest gave me penance, I knelt in horror as I tried to remember the words to Hail Mary. I was okay until full of grace. I couldn't even remember the freaking words. Okay God, I'm fucking doomed. I squeezed my hands harder together as I closed my eyes and bowed my head.
I finished and looked up. I was met by the accusatorial stare of the Joseph statue. I broke out in cold sweat. A frown overtook his face. Joseph's voice, sounding like Ole Luther, the bitter bartender at Giorgio's. "You can't even say a Hail Mary." He snapped his tongue in ridicule "Instead of wasting all your time beating off to you neighbor's mother maybe you should study the catechism you little piss ant. Learn to beg forgiveness with dignity."
When I told Shannie of my experience, of course omitting the beating off to Diane part, she told me I was my mother's son.
"What's that suppose to mean?"
"You're full of guilt. By the way, when were you ever in Giorgio's? And why?"
"The day my grandfather came to town, we stopped there for a drink," I lied.
***
Knowing Grandfather's reputation as a lady's man, Shannie and I thought we'd witness sparks. We tried our hand playing cupid. When we brought the idea up with Diane she dismissed it. "He seems wonderful, but he's not my type."
"What do you mean he's not your type?" Shannie protested.
"Yeah. He wrote a book," I chimed in.
"Just because I like a book doesn't mean I'd like the author."
"How would you know if you never met him?" Shannie persisted.
"Don't you think he's a little too old for me?" Diane replied.
"He doesn't act old," I countered.
Shannie and I knew it would be a challenge. We agreed that the tension between our mothers dampened any spark. I didn't tell Shannie Ms Horne might have something to do with Diane's lack of interest.
***
Once my mother got resettled, Grandfather returned to being the social butterfly. He visited Beyford's taverns regularly. There he struck up a friendship with Russell. "There are some characters in this town," he said over dinner before Christmas.