Tongue

All the girls are called Mary.

You don't know that yet, sitting in the Chevy Nova, trying to read Island of the Blue Dolphins but too excited to pay attention really.

You don't know that yet, giving up and bouncing in your seat, watching the deep red church doors, singing a Simon & Garfunkel song to yourself, like someone with the luxury of impatience. Like someone with a voice. A name.

You don't know, you can't know. Not yet.

Today is the day you become a Lamb. At home on the calendar every day for a month there is a big red X, bringing you closer to this moment. Today is circled three times with your best green marker.

The big church doors open and your father steps out with Pastor Gull, and Pastor Gull is in his purple robes. You run to the church steps and Pastor Gull says, "Mary! My newest Lamb," and you laugh because Pastor Gull is being silly, he knows your real name.

Your daddy suddenly drops to his knees and kisses the hem of Pastor Gull's robe. Your face goes hot. You love the purple robe too, but you want to wear it, not kiss it.

You are wishing and wishing that Daddy will stand up, and then Pastor Gull leans over and helps him stand. It looks so familiar and you flash to watching The Greatest Story Ever Told with your parents, because in your memories Mom hasn't left yet, hasn't flown to Boston to see her sister which turned into staying for some night classes which turned into staying for a masters degree which turned into a divorce which turned into you, here, becoming a Lamb and your new family who have promised to love you and Daddy eternally and never leave you, not ever, and anyway.

Anyway.

You flash to watching The Greatest Story Ever Told and that's what feels familiar as Pastor Gull helps Daddy stand up, he seems just like Jesus.

Daddy shows you his confirmation papers, and there you are, right under "dependants". You are officially a Lamb, and you have so much joy inside you, you do a leaping dance around the church courtyard, hollering, "Baa! Baa!"

There was no Christmas last year. Daddy was too sad, you were too sad, and breakfast at Nora's Diner 24 Hours We Never Close was better than trying to make believe you are a family while Mom is just letters which aren't even addressed to you.

At Nora's Diner you could eat the Lumberjack special and pretend it was just any old Tuesday. You could ignore the table after table of old men sitting by themselves on Christmas, you could tell yourself that Mom would be sitting on the couch reading when you and Daddy got home.

And this July day is better than Christmas. You are a Lamb, and Pastor Gull has promised you three presents (and even Santa only gives one present at a time) —

NEVER GOING TO RANDOLPH ELEMENTARY AGAIN
and
ALL THE STRAWBERRIES YOU CAN EAT
and
NINETEEN SISTERS.

You have wanted a sister for as long as you can remember. To play Crazy Eights instead of Solitaire, for one thing. It is going to be like having sleepovers with Dawn every single day. Pastor Gull has promised you nineteen sisters, and not only that, they are all Lambs so you won't be the weird one at school getting in trouble for baptizing the other third graders at the drinking fountain so their moms won’t run away from their houses too.

You have already packed your books.

And you don't know yet that in the confirmation papers that made you a Lamb each person must enter the gates of the Church of the Righteous Lamb with only the clothes on their back.

You don't know yet that Harriet M. Welsch and Laura Ingalls and Jo and Amy and Beth and Meg and all the others are going to sit in that box, rotting in the sun and the rain and just like your nineteen sisters, all called Mary, they will be silent. They will be silent.