Sundays

By Peep Shakespeare

1899

Every Sunday for as long as Itey had lived in the lodging house, he got up at dawn, got dressed in his best clothes (which really weren’t much to look at, but were usually clean enough), then made the trek up to Hell’s Kitchen. It usually took him about an hour and a half, as he didn’t want to rush and get all sweaty before Mass. Mama would have a fit if the family did not look its best.

He would usually arrive at the apartment as everyone was midway through getting dressed, grinning at the chaos around him. Maria and Magdelena were always arguing over who got to wear which dress and whether they should wear matching hair ribbons or not. The two girls were close enough in age and size that they shared dresses and were always competing with each other to see who looked prettier.

The boys, Jesus, Rafael, and Luis, ran about the apartment, evading their mother who was trying to catch them and get them dressed and their hair in some semblance of order. Itey would laugh then help his mother, grabbing Luis and wrestling the five year old into clean knickers and a shirt, the younger boy laughing in delight to see his favorite big brother again. The little boys adored Itey and fell over each other trying to get his attention whenever he came home on Sunday.

His father stood off to the side, holding little Adora and trying to feed her without getting food on her dress. At home, Itey’s mother ruled the roost and his father, when he was home, shrugged and did his best to not contradict her orders, good-natured as always.

Itey’s mother would usually pause in her pursuit of the boys, scrutinize Itey, then snap at him to go borrow one of his father’s shirts, the one he was wearing wasn’t acceptable. And Itey would shrug and laugh, releasing Luis with the threat that if the boy got dirty, Itey wouldn’t tell him any stories this week, then duck into his parent’s bedroom to change his shirt.

Eventually, once everyone was dressed and clean, the Casales family headed off to Mass, always right on time. Itey didn’t know how his mother did it, how she managed to manipulate the chaos so everything was done by the time they needed to start walking to Saint Thomas’. But she always managed it. It was the same every week and Itey loved the routine. It was almost like being at home again.

“Mama?”

“Si, Gabriel?”

“I was jus’ thinkin’-“

“En espanol, Gabriel. Por favor.”

With a sigh, Itey switched to Spanish. “Sorry, Mama. Anyway, I was thinking that maybe I could go to Mass some other time? And at a church closer to the lodging house?”

His mother froze as she was dishing out another helping of rice and beans to Itey. “Why would you ever want to do that?” she asked, her voice calm and measured.

“I just mean, Mama, that I’m losing a day of selling by coming up here every Sunday. It wouldn’t be so bad if there were two editions, like the other days, but there’s only one paper on Sunday….” He trailed off at the warning look his father gave him.

“Darling, the boy just wants to earn a bit more money for the family. And really, we could use it.” His father patted Itey’s shoulder as he smiled up at Itey’s mother. She sniffed and dumped a spoonful of rice and beans onto Itey’s plate.

“Money? What good is money? Money is of no use in the kingdom of Heaven. You can’t buy your way into the Lord’s graces.”

“I’m sorry, Mama, I just thought…” Itey backtracked, hoping to head off another lecture.

“You thought nothing! If you do not go to Mass, how will your soul be saved?” His mother dumped rice and beans onto the other children’s plates and spun off into the kitchen, to get the rest of the food.

“I’ll go to another Mass!”

“Where? In one of those heathen churches down on the Lower East Side?” She emerged from the kitchen, serving the tortillas and chicken.

“Mama, they’re not heathens, there’s a Catholic church down there-“

“What is it called?”

“Huh?” Itey looked up from fidgeting with his napkin, confused.

“What is it called? Which saint does it belong to?”

“I dunno, Mama, I’ve never seen it before…”

“Then how do I know it’s a good church? No, Gabriel, you will keep coming up here every Sunday and going to Mass with your family.”

“But, Mama…”

“No arguments, Gabriel. Now eat your dinner.”

“Yes, Mama.” Itey cast a glance over at his father, who shrugged and smiled sympathetically, but said nothing. His father never went against his mother’s decisions. It was an unspoken rule that she controlled the apartment and children. Itey was included in that, even though he no longer lived at home.

“Maria, say the prayer.”

Maria, the second oldest, nodded quickly. “Bless us Oh Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.” She crossed herself, glancing up to make sure the younger children copied her.

Itey joined in on the “Amen,” crossing himself quickly before digging in to dinner. He had to admit, his mother’s cooking was one of the best parts about coming home on Sunday.

“Gabey?”

“Yeah, Maggie?” Itey glanced up at Magdelena, his eleven-year-old sister. She grinned, poking her tongue through the space left by her missing tooth.

“Look.”

“At what, the Jack-o-lantern smile you have?” He grinned back, making her grimace and stick her tongue out at him.

“No, I lost my tooth!” she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Really? Wasn’t it always like that?” Itey couldn’t help it. He was one of the smaller guys back at the lodging house, always getting pushed around and teased. When he was home, he had to make up for it with his younger siblings.

“Mama! Gabriel’s being mean to me!”

“Gabriel Ignacio Casales, you be kind to your younger sister!”

“Sorry Mama…” Itey ducked his head, returning to his dinner.

“Mama?”

“Yes, Jesus?”

“Rafael and I were thinkin’ that maybe we could sell papers after school? Like Gabey?” At nine years old, Jesus was already intent on being just like Itey when he grew up. He and Rafael, who was seven, were almost inseparable, Rafael trailing Jesus wherever he went and looking up to the nine year old almost in the same way Jesus idolized Itey.

“Yeah, can we?” Rafael smiled up at his mother with all the charm a seven year old could muster.

“No.”

“Why not?” The one word answer clearly did not appease Jesus, who frowned and poked at his chicken with his fork.

“Yeah, why not?” Rafael copied Jesus. Both boys were really Itey in miniature, down to the pucker they got between their eyebrows when they frowned.

“Because you both are too young.” Itey’s mother was not used to having to explain her parenting decisions to the younger children. She frowned over at Itey’s father, who merely shrugged.

“You’re the parent they listen to, darling. Don’t look at me.”

“But Mama, Gabey said there are boys at his lodging house that are our age. So we aren’t too young!”

“Those children don’t have parents to support them. You do. We are not arguing about this, Jesus.” Itey’s mother cast a quick glance over at Itey, who blushed and looked down at his plate. He hadn’t meant to put ideas in Jesus’ head. He was only telling him about the other boys, and mentioned Tumbler because he reminded Itey of his little brothers.

“But, Mama….”

“Hey, Jesus? Mama said no, listen to her, okay?” Itey looked up from his plate to smile softly at his brother. Jesus pouted for a moment, but eventually nodded and smiled back.

“Okay, Gabey.”

“Shouldn’t you apologize to Mama?” Itey reminded his brother gently.

“Oh, right. Sorry, Mama.”

“Thank you, Jesus. And thank you, Gabriel.” His mother beamed across the table at him, making Itey blush.

“For what, Mama?”

“For being such a good example.”

Itey shrugged, shaking his head a bit. “Nah, Mama. You just raised me right, that’s all…” He returned his gaze to his plate, prodding the chicken with his fork. He missed the look his mother gave his father, missed her dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. It was probably better that he didn’t see it. He would have made a fuss, about how the comment wasn’t worth crying over and his mother would shake her head, because he just didn’t understand. As such, Itey’s father was the only one to notice his mother’s reaction, and he simply patted her shoulder, letting her dab away any tears and return to her normal cheerful expression.

By the time Itey looked up from his plate, his mother was standing and bustling back into the kitchen. “Who wants more rice and beans?”

“Me! Me!” Luis, the five year old and youngest boy, waved his hands in the air, making Adora, the three year old and baby of the family, giggle and copy him, sending some chicken flying off her fork to hit Itey’s forehead. He blinked in confusion, wiping his forehead to the laughter of his siblings.

“No throwing food!” sang out his mother, returning with the pot and dishing out more food to everyone. Itey shook his head at his still giggling siblings. This was why he always looked forward to Sundays, even if it meant missing a day of selling. His silly, confusing, loving, cheerful familia.