Chapter 25
The church was mobbed. There was no air conditioner, naturally, and a few slowly rotating ceiling fans provided the only relief. My long navy-blue dress was already sticking to me, and the thong of one of my dressy flip-flops was digging into the webbing of my big toe. Vince tugged on the collar of his shirt, poking me with his elbow.
“Can you sit still?” I whispered.
“I would if it wasn’t two hundred degrees in here.”
“Well, get used to it because I’m guessing this ceremony isn’t going to be all that snappy.”
Just then, the organist began to play and everyone stood to face the church doors. The entire spectacle was so wedding-like, I half expected them to play “Here Comes the Bride,” or at the very least, Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major.
The doors swung open and in walked the processional of Lilly’s friends. One purple halter dress followed by a lime-green strapless gown followed by a canary-yellow v-neck so low I could almost see her belly button. Each girl held the arm of a guy in a tuxedo with sweat dripping down his brow. As the last couple sauntered in, the music began to slow. Organ chords buzzed in my ears, and my eyes locked with the final male escort. His brown eyes smiled as his dimples flexed. My breath froze in my lungs as I followed his strut down the aisle. When our eyes caught, he grinned. Before I could fully absorb the moment, the doors swung open one last time.
The organist blasted a fresh tune and Lilly strolled in on her father’s arm with a doll in a matching pink gown resting in her other arm. She’d told me earlier that it was supposed to symbolize the “last doll” she’d ever own, however, Lilly had stopped playing with dolls as soon as she was old enough to speak. It was just another tradition forced on her by her mother. So was the embroidered tiara that sat on her head. But none of this affected the glowing smile she wore as she passed her guests.
When she reached the altar, her godparents, whom I had yet to officially meet, took her doll and presented her with a bouquet of pink and white lilies, which while somewhat cheesy in the name-play, were also rather sweet.
As soon as the priest opened his mouth, so did my brother.
“How the heck are we supposed to know what’s going on? The whole thing’s in Spanish,” he whispered.
“It’s a Catholic service. We’ve been to plenty. How different could it be?”
“Well, I really don’t get the point of all this. Big deal. She’s fifteen. So that means she’s a woman now? ’Cause I’m pretty sure she was a woman when she sprouted those bombs.”
“Vince! She’s your cousin, don’t talk about her boobs!”
“Actually, have you noticed that every girl here has huge boobs?” he continued. “Her court looks like a Latina Victoria’s Secret runway.”
“You’re in a church,” I reminded him.
“So?”
“And you’re probably related to half the people whose cleavage you’re checking out.”
“Well, if that priest would stop rambling maybe I wouldn’t have to look at boobs to pass the time.”
“Shhh! I want to pay attention.”
I watched as Lilly kneeled on the white satin pillow I had selected, sans the frilly trim. It was embroidered by her mother with Lilly’s name, the date and the phrase, “Mis XV Años.” Her mother strolled to the altar to replace the white embroided tiara on her head with the faux crystal one we chose together. It was her crowning moment as a “princess before God,” which was amusing since Madison had worn one similar on her Sweet Sixteen just to be “princess of the world.” God had nothing to do with it.
The organist launched into another rousing performance as the crowd collectively stood. Everyone sang in unison.
“This is so lame,” Vince whispered. “No hablo Español.”
“Who cares? Like you sing in church back home when the songs are in English?”
“What? You don’t think I can sing? Because I can sing.”
Vince shot me a sly smile, then cleared his throat. He closed his eyes, clenched a fist to his chest and softly began crooning the words to Guns N’ Roses’“Sweet Child O’ Mine” to the tune of the Spanish hymn.
Every word to the metal ballad was sung in tune to the organist, and as much as I wanted to tell him to stop, I couldn’t help but laugh—even when the heads began to turn around us. The more inappropriate my laughter became, the harder it spewed out. It didn’t help that the chubby two-year-old next to us was shrieking in tune with my brother and that when the music finally ceased, the toddler kept right on squealing.
And squealing. Then he threw a program at us.
“Okay, so do that brat’s parents not see him?”Vince whispered. “Did they lose their sense of hearing when they procreated? Or do they just like being obnoxious?”
“You mean like you do?” I smirked.
“Hey, at least I was singing softly. He’s screaming like a lunatic.”
The baby wailed again.
“Shhh! They might hear you.”
The toddler grabbed the black suspenders hooked on his blue trousers and let out another wailing screech.
“You mean they might hear me over the sounds of their freakish child? Doubt it. Plus, no one here speaks English.”
“True.” I nodded, as the toddler howled again. I pressed my finger to my ear. “God, do you think it was your Axl Rose impersonation that set him off or is he just possessed? ’Cause I think the holy water’s gonna start bubbling any minute now.”
“Now you’re talking.” Vince laughed.
Just then, Lilly’s godparents approached the altar with a bible and a cross for the priest to bless. Her mom then presented Lilly’s new Quinceañera jewelry on a pillow for the priest to sanctify as well. As soon as Lilly saw the shiny white-gold locket her eyes welled. She flicked it open and inside was a picture of her and her parents. She hugged her mom and shifted her eyes to where I was sitting. Her teeth gleamed as she smiled at me and winked. She knew I had picked it out. It was the best gift I had ever given anyone, and it wasn’t even mine to give.
An hour later—after three readings, two more songs, and a communion line that could have stretched the circumference of the earth—the mass wrapped up. Lilly stood and took the arms of her parents, her dad on one side and her mom on the other. She recessed down the aisle, nodding at me as she passed. The toddler next to us acknowledged her with another high-pitched yell.
“For the love of God, someone get this little Satan out of the building,” Vince whispered.
“I know. I think my ears are starting to bleed.”
I stood up to exit the pew when a hand grabbed my arm. I swung around, startled, and looked straight into the eyes of the toddler’s mother.
“I hope we get to spend some more time together at the reception,” she quipped in perfect English before swooping her child up into her arms and leaving the church.