old church, today Marla Rodriguez didn’t feel safe in there at all.
Father Banigas slid open the shutter to his compartment, the dim outline of his head visible beyond lattice screen.
“Perdóname, Padre, porque he pecado,” Marla said.
“You speak English?” asked the priest.
“Sí, Padre.”
“You must be new. At this church, it is important that we learn to be good Americans. The children make their confessions in English.”
Marla felt her face go hot, her stomach tighten. “I’m sorry. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three months since my last confession.”
“That’s all right, dear. What do you want to confess?”
“Well,” she began, “I don’t have much bad that I did since my last confession. Only that I sometimes wish it was my brother Diego who died instead of Jose.”
“Jose?”
“Yes, Father. My oldest brother. He is who I wanted to confess for today. He told me to do it for him in some dreams I had because he didn’t get a chance to do it himself before the pandilleros killed him. That’s why he’s stuck in Hell right now, but if I can confess for him, God will forgive Jose and let him into Heaven. Jose told me so.”
“I see,” said the priest.
“Jose told me in my dreams that if he knew he was going to die he would have confessed to Father Gomez back in our old church. But we don’t go to that church anymore because Papa moved us away from our old neighborhood because of the pandilleros. They thought at first that it was them who killed Jose and that other man, but now the police say they don’t know. But everybody says that only la Mara Salva-trucha would do something like that, and Papa wanted us to go live with his sister. So, last time I spoke to Jose in my dream, I asked him who killed him, and he said he didn’t know, but that he also thought it was the pandilleros. And so I asked him if I could confess to you instead of Father Gomez, and he said yes. So now it’s up to you to get Jose out of Hell.”
“Why do you think Jose is in Hell?”
“Because of his secret.”
“His secret?”
“Yes,” the girl said tentatively. “No one but me and Jose ever knew. Jose said if Papa ever found out, he would kill him, or at least throw him out of the house. And Mama and Papa and Diego always used to say that people like Jose were going to Hell. But I don’t know why that’s true, because Jose was the nicest person in the whole world to me. He would bring me home CDs from Best Buy, and he prom- ised me he was going to take me to the movies in his new car when he got it.”
“What did he do that was so bad that your parents would think he was going to Hell? Was he involved with the pandilleros?”
“Oh no!”
“Then what?”
Marla swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and said, “May I confess Jose’s secret for him now, Father Banigas?”
“But, my child, only a person who accepts Jesus Christ as his Savior and seeks forgiveness himself can be absolved in the name of our Father.”
“Please, Father Banigas,” Marla cried, the tears beginning to flow. “You have to help me. You have to ask God to let Jose out of Hell. Please. I don’t want my brother to be stuck down there forever. He was the best brother I ever had.”
“Ssh, my child. It’s all right. I will take care of it for you, okay? I will grant a conditional absolution for Jose so he can stand before God and ask Him for forgiveness himself. Will that make you feel better?”
“Sí! Gracias—I mean, thank you, Father Banigas.”
“Now tell me Jose’s secret.”
“Well,” Marla began, “Papa and Mama think Jose wanted to go to college for computers, but I know that he was saving up his money so he could go for fashion design—you know, to make clothes and stuff. I only know this because it was Jose who took me to the father-and-daughter dance at school.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Papa couldn’t get out of work because this other guy had his appendix out, and we didn’t have enough money to buy a dress for me. I outgrew my stuff from fourth grade. I was real sad, but then Jose said he could fix it for me. He undid the stitching on my old dress and added some material from another dress, and it really looked great. He made me promise to keep it secret, and we didn’t tell Mama and Papa and Diego—just told them that one of Jose’s girlfriends from school had done it. Jose would never tell Papa, and especially not Diego, because they would think that making dresses was for maricóns.”
“That is not a nice word, child,” the priest said. “I believe you mean homosexual.”
“I’m sorry, Father Banigas, but that’s what Papa and Diego call them. Oh, and I already confessed lying about the dress to Father Gomez.”
“I understand,” said Father Banigas. “So is that Jose’s secret?”
“Well,” Marla hesitated, “not all of it.”
“Go on then.”
“Well, you see, Father Banigas, I’m confessing today for Jose because my brother was a mar—a homosexual.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because he told me he liked boys instead of girls—but only after I found out and asked him and promised never to tell Mama and Papa and Diego.”
“How did you find this out?”
“Jose had a job after school at Best Buy in the computer section, but on Wednesday and Saturday nights he worked at this other place where he said he made more money. He never told me where—said it was a Mexican restaurant downtown. But one day I overheard him talking on the phone when he thought I was playing outside and, well, he told the person that they could pick him up after the show at Angel’s and then gave them the address on West Hargett Street. I googled the words ‘angels’ and ‘show’ and ‘West Hargett Street’ in the library at school, and I found out that Angel’s is a club in Raleigh where the homosexuals go for drag shows. I didn’t know what a drag show was until I looked it up. It’s a show where boys dress up as—”
“Yes, yes, yes, I know what a drag show is—but did you tell your parents?”
“Oh no! I didn’t want to get Jose into trouble. But I did ask Jose about it when we were alone. And at first he was mad at me and said he didn’t know what I was talking about and told me to mind my own business. But after I told him that I didn’t care if he was a homosexual, that I would keep it a secret and I would still love him more than Diego no matter what, he started crying and told me everything. He told me about the drag shows, too, and made me swear on Mama’s Bible that I would never tell anyone.”
“But, my child, you should have told the police this after he was killed.”
“I
