Part III: What Happens a Cappella? (Chapter 65)
“SAM?”
I look up from my plate.
Aunt Sal nudges me. “Wake up, space cadet. You’ve been elected to say
grace.”
She takes hold of my arm and starts to pull me from the chair. “C’mon.
You can leave those Cheetos long enough to thank the Lord for all our
blessings.”
“Me? Why me?” I ask. There’s got to be a certain irony in asking a
renegade Catholic and agnostic to offer up thanks to a God Who might not even
exist. “Why not <Father> Daniel?”
“Nana wants <you>.”
I should have known who engineered this move.
“Maybe some of that 12 years of Catholic training will soak in,” Nana
shouts from the next table.
Her voice sounds surprisingly strong and empowered; I feel a twinge of
sadness knowing that she’ll be gone within the year.
I swallow the urge to announce my disdain for Mother Church.
I rise, bow my head, fold my hands, and begin, “Bless us, Our Lord, for
these our gifts....”
“Amen.”
Everyone begins to eat.
I sneak a Cheeto from the bag and wait for the roar of the crowd.