 | Paula  |
I became convinced that I had contracted the degenerative disease of Multiple Sclerosis when I was in the fourth grade. Of course, no one in my family would believe me. I figured I had caught it from the church lady, who wore a pair of bulky black, laced up shoes, with heels of different heights. Even so, she walked with a drastic limp. And as she limped, her arms would contort, it seemed, in pitiful spasms. It made perfect sense to me that I had contracted M.S. from her. She was always on the street in front of me, every time I walked to church or school. Since, I was a soprano in the church choir, my presence was necessary there, more than naught. No matter what time I left the house, there she'd be, on the sidewalk in front of me, heading for the same destination. As I walked behind her, fearful of passing, I would pray to myself, in silence. “Patience, patience!” So it went, week after week, month after month, until I began to hate her. She had become frightening to me. I would think about her all the time . . . wondering about her life away from church, how she lived, what she dreamt about. “She should be hidden.” I decided. Then, I would be angry with myself for such mean thoughts. Worse, were my feelings about her in church, the very home of the Lord. I would watch her from the choir loft as she struggled up the isle to receive Holy Communion. She'd always hobble, slowly, from the very back of the church to the front.
"This is just awful!" I'd hiss to my friend.
"They should make her sit up in the front!" She’d agree.
But, no! After receiving the Holy Host, she'd hobble all the way to the back again, holding up the entire congregation in the process. Rows of Catholics trying to be charitable, would sit squirming, with averted eyes and loud short coughs. Other than that, silence, until she finally reached her pew. Father Sullivan, who loved dipping into the church wine, also waited, in the same nervous manner. Every few seconds, he'd sneak a peak, by raising his pudgy, cherubic head toward the heavens, and puff out a slurred, “Dominus vobiscum.” Thus, checking out her progress, so he could finally continue with the rest of the Mass.
"There atta be a law!" I would whisper to my friend.
"Silence!" said Sister Edward Francis, with pursed lips.
My mother said that I was invited to spend a full week with my girlfriend, Julie Gerhart, at her aunt's home, in Long Beach. “Won't that be fun!?" Mom asked, in an overly excited voice that I’d never heard from her, before. I grew suspicious. And, I was right, because a few years later she copped up to it and said, "Anything to have gotten your attention off those damn nervous tics and sick ladies."
Wrong!
I didn't like to be away from home with strangers. My mother made me go away, is how I felt about it. She, I guess, was sure that I'd have fun. And, we were supposed to be having fun there, at a large amusement park near the beach, but I was miserable. I started to feel dizzy, and numb all over my body. That was when the voices came. They came right out of the roller coaster and called to me, "Paaula. Paauullaaa," Then, came a backup chorus, reaching an eerie crescendo sounding like, "PaulaPaulaPaula!"
"Stop that!" I shouted.
| | Karmalade. Smear it all over your face.  Shaunti Negron Levick |
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| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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| | Karmalade. Smear it all over your face. Shaunti Negron Levick |
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| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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| | wolfwitch  Wolf Witch |
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| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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| | MusicDiva  Music Lover |
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| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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| | MusicDiva Music Lover |
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| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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| | scott  Kenneth s cornwall |
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| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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| | Karmalade. Smear it all over your face. Shaunti Negron Levick |
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| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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