The Meadow 137 up. She doesn’t reach for her hand though. Bridget is sure she doesn’t deserve someone so considerate. The mass goes by in a familiar haze for Bridget. She goes through the motions of standing, sitting, and kneeling, listening politely to the choir sing, and only really focusing when the readings are spoken and the priest does his homily. “Mark in this section of Chapter 12 talks about a couple of things,” the priest says, absent-mindedly fixing his (white, for this week) sash. “He relays to us what Jesus said the greatest commandments were; to love God and to love each other. It’s easy to understand them, but how could we practice them? Well, for one…” Fran sits overall still, but her hands are twitching as if she almost wants to take notes. Bridget bites down on a smile. She’s such a dork, she thinks fondly. During the Communion ceremony, Bridget feels the usual sourceless guilt slosh around her stomach as she steps forward. She reminds herself that she had the First Communion and Confirmation sacraments, that she has a right to take the bread and wine, but the guilt weighs on her regardless of the facts. Fran politely crosses her arms across her chest and takes the blessing the priest gives her in turn with grace. She gives Bridget a smile as they head back to their pew, which makes the guilt thrash like a wild animal, both calming it and riling it up. The priest says the ending rites, and eventually, the guilt has no more footholds to cling to, and thus falls away for now. Bridget stands up, Fran following in her footsteps. The two squeeze through the crowd together, taking short steps one at a time. Bridget reaches back and takes Fran’s hand so she won’t get lost in the thick of it, and Fran lights up like someone had flipped a switch behind her eyes. The crowd smells of candles, peppermint, and an array of perfumes and colognes. Jacket colors, hair colors, the rustling of clothes, the
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