January by Sara Gallardo

Author:Sara Gallardo [Gallardo, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steerforth Press
Published: 2023-10-24T00:00:00+00:00

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It’s a box, a little box inside this large building, and the wood creaks, it creaks. The legs of the girl kneeling inside stick out; when she gets up it will be Nefer’s turn. Her turn, her turn, Nefer’s turn; a boy comes to light the candles, he stands on his tiptoes holding out a pole: the flame flickers, rises, stretches, no, the candle is stubborn. Again, the flame flickers, it gets bigger, he moves away. Two flames, another candle.

The heads all in a row donning colorful kerchiefs, Raquel’s with a blue boat on it and another with lettering – who knows what it says – red flowers, stars.

The wood creaks, her heart jumps. Is it her turn? No. How did it go last year? What did the priest ask? She can’t remember, he was a little old man, he was nice. Has Negro arrived yet? She doesn’t dare turn around, so many sounds, footsteps, maybe his, maybe…

What if she leaves? What if she doesn’t confess? Says she feels bad, like Alcira did last year? She’s so frightened by this chapel where every footstep says: here I am, stepping forward. Look, I’m on the left, I’m getting closer to the confessional, I’m kneeling down, pay attention please. The people pay attention. When the confessional finally creaks open they watch to see the look on each person’s face; full of penance? Full of sin? The face says nothing, sometimes it even smiles a little, hiding something. But, what happens before that? The priest always asks a question. What does he say? What does he say?

One’s soul must be clean for communion; otherwise hell itself will slip inside, the demons will come, and if you suffer an accident and die you’ll burn for all eternity.

She won’t confess. But the girl before her gets up, her turn has come. Kneel down, little wooden grate so close to her face, fog inside her head. Oh, there’s a voice. It’s saying something, what?

“…Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…” it says.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” Nefer repeats, hoarsely.

“How long since your last confession?”

“It…um, it’s been a year…”

“What sins do you remember, my child…?”

“Um…I…I told some lies and…and, um, what’s it called? I told lies…and…”

Nefer finds herself surrounded by night, all at once specks of light glimmer loudly. She answers in monosyllables: yes, no. She understands very little, hears words she doesn’t know, answers only with short words: yes, no.

The priest says: purity, and by the tone of his voice it seems like he knows. “You haven’t sinned against purity?” She doesn’t know. Did she? But, what if she didn’t? She says: “I don’t know.” The little voice clarifies: “You haven’t had any wicked thoughts? Wicked desires…?” Oh, wicked thoughts, wicked desires, when she dreamed of revenge, when she wanted Delia to drown in a ditch, yes, she’s had them, “Yes, Father.”

“And nothing else? Wicked actions…”

No, she hadn’t acted on them, she’d only wished for them, but she’d done something else, once, she, she…She no longer knows what she’s saying.

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