The priest always held First Communion during mid-spring. I’ll always remember that day in my life. I remember what I was wearing and I remember my godfather and the pastries and chocolate that we had after mass, but I also remember what I saw at the cleaners that was next to the church. I think it all happened because I left so early for church. It’s that I hadn’t been able to sleep the night before, trying to remember all of my sins, and worse yet, trying to arrive at an exact number. Furthermore, since Mother had placed a picture of hell at the head of the bed and since the walls of the room were papered with images of the devil and since I wanted salvation from all evil, that was all I could think of.
“Remember, children, very quiet, very very quiet. You have learned your prayers well, and now you know which are the mortal sins and which are the venial sins, now you know what sacrilege is, now you know that you are God’s children, but you can also be children of the devil. When you go to confession you must tell all of your sins, you must try to remember all of the sins you have committed. Because if you forget one and receive Holy Communion, then that would be a sacrilege and if you commit sacrilege, you will go to hell. God knows all. You cannot lie to God. You can lie to me and to the priest, but God knows everything; so if your soul is not pure of sin, then you should not receive Holy Communion. That would be a sacrilege. So everyone confess all of your sins. Recall all of your sins. Wouldn’t you be ashamed if you received Holy Communion and then later remembered a sin that you had forgotten to confess? Now, let’s see, let us practice confessing our sins. Who would like to start off? Let us begin with the sins that we commit with our hands when we touch our bodies. Who would like to start?”
The nun liked for us to talk about the sins of the flesh. The real truth was that we practiced a lot telling our sins, but the real truth was that I didn’t understand a lot of things. What did scare me was the idea of going to hell because some months earlier I had fallen against a small basin filled with hot coals which we used as a heater in the little room where we slept. I had burned my calf. I could well imagine how it might be to burn in hell forever. That was all that I understood. So I spent that night, the eve of my First Communion, going over all the sins I had committed. But what was real hard was coming up with the exact number like the nun wanted us to. It must have been dawn by the time I finally satisfied my conscience. I had committed one hundred and fifty sins, but I was going to admit to two hundred.
“If I say one hundred and fifty and I’ve forgotten some, that would be bad. I’ll just say two hundred and that way even if I forget lots of them I won’t commit any kind of sacrilege. Yes, I have committed two hundred sins ... Father, I have come to confess my sins ... How many? ... Two hundred ... of all kinds ... The Commandments? Against all of the Ten Commandments ... This way there will be no sacrilege. It’s better this way. By confessing more sins you’ll be purer.”
I remember I got up much earlier that morning than Mother had expected. My godfather would be waiting for me at the church and I didn’t want to be even one second late.
“Hurry, Mother, get my pants ready, I thought you already ironed them last night.”
“It’s just that I couldn’t see anymore last night. My eyesight is failing me now and that’s why I had to leave them for this morning. But tell me, what’s your hurry now? It’s still very early. Confession isn’t until eight o’clock and it’s only six. Your godfather won’t be there until eight.”
“I know, but I couldn’t sleep. Hurry, Mother, I want to leave now.”
“And what are you going to do there so early?”
“Well, I want to leave because I’m afraid I’ll forget the sins I have to confess to the priest. I can think better at the church.”
“All right, I’ll be through in just a minute. Believe me, as long as I can see I’m able to do a lot.”
I headed for church repeating my sins and reciting the Holy Sacraments. The morning was already bright and clear but there weren’t many people out in the street yet. The morning was cool. When I got to the church I found that it was closed. I think the priest might have overslept or was very busy. That was why I walked around the church and passed by the cleaners that was next to the church. The sound of loud laughter and moans surprised me because I didn’t expect anybody to be in there. I thought it might be a dog but then it sounded like people again and that’s why I peeked in through the little window in the door. They didn’t see me but I saw them. They were naked and embracing each other, lying on some shirts and dresses on the floor. I don’t know why but I couldn’t move away from the window. Then they saw me and tried to cover themselves, and they yelled at me to get out of there. The woman’s hair looked all messed up and she looked like she was sick. And me, to tell the truth, I got scared and ran to the church but I couldn’t get my mind off of what I had seen. I realized then that maybe those were the sins that we committed with our hands. But I couldn’t forget the sight of that woman and that man lying on the floor. When my friends started arriving I was going to tell them but then I thought it would be better to tell them after communion. More and more I was feeling like I was the one who had committed a sin of the flesh.
“There’s nothing I can do now. But I can’t tell the others ‘cause they’ll sin like me. I better not go to communion. Better that I don’t go to confession. I can’t, now that I know, I can’t. But what will Mom and Dad say if I don’t go to communion? And my godfather, I can’t leave him there waiting. I have to confess what I saw. I feel like going back. Maybe they’re still there on the floor. No choice, I’m gonna have to lie. What if I forget it between now and confession? Maybe I didn’t see anything? And if I hadn’t seen anything?”
I remember that when I went in to confess and the priest asked for my sins, all I told him was two hundred and of all kinds. I did not confess the sin of the flesh. On returning to the house with my godfather, everything seemed changed, like I was and yet wasn’t in the same place. Everything seemed smaller and less important. When I saw my Dad and my Mother, I imagined them on the floor. I started seeing all of the grown-ups naked and their faces even looked distorted, and I could even hear them laughing and moaning, even though they weren’t even laughing. Then I started imagining the priest and the nun on the floor. I couldn’t hardly eat any of the sweet bread or drink the chocolate. As soon as I finished, I recall running out of the house. It felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“So, what’s the matter with him? Such manners!”
“Ah, compadre, let him be. You don’t have to be concerned on my account. I have my own. These young ones, all they can think about is playing. Let him have a good time, it’s the day of his First Communion.”
“Sure, compadre, I’m not saying they shouldn’t play. But they have to learn to be more courteous. They have to show more respect toward adults, their elders, and all the more for their godfather.”
“No, well, that’s true.”
I remember I headed toward the thicket. I picked up some rocks and threw them at the cactus. Then I broke some bottles. I climbed a tree and stayed there for a long time until I got tired of thinking. I kept remembering the scene at the cleaners, and there, alone, I even liked recalling it. I even forgot that I had lied to the priest. And then I felt the same as I once had when I had heard a missionary speak about the grace of God. I felt like knowing more about everything. And then it occurred to me that maybe everything was the same.
Translated by Evangelina Vigil-Piñón