The toasty warmth of the sacristy was a welcome relief. He was ten minutes early; neither the priest nor the other altar boy had arrived. Jack went into the small changing room, hung up his coat, took off his half-sweater, and sorted through the closet to find the right sized cassock with no buttons missing. Finding one, he slipped into it, manipulated the 15 or so buttons, and pulled the surplice over his head. He was now prepared to serve Christ.
The ritual of the Mass had taken on new meaning for Jack. He enjoyed the preparation for this fundamental ritual of Catholic life. The mysteries of life and his religion intrigued him. He was eager to learn more about their meanings. Serving mass each morning was now more a pleasure than a penance or punishment. He now felt privileged to serve upon the altar of God and looked forward to officiating as a priest one day rather than merely assisting the priest.
Jack went into the sacristy inhaling the scent of the flowers on the main and side altars, laid out the priest’s vestments, and filled the cruets with white wine and water, pausing to think that if blood was red, how was it that they were using white wine and not red? Just then, Father Shipley arrived. A tall, thin, raw-boned man with deep-set blue eyes, and curly brown hair, he had a deep baritone voice. The most prominent part of his face was his long thin nose.
“Good morning, Jack.” He looked around. “Good job, Jack. Everything’s all prepared, as usual. You’ll make a great priest.” He walked up to Jack and put his arm around his shoulder. “Yes, Jack. A real fine job,” he said as he squeezed Jack’s shoulder.
Uneasy with the physical contact, Jack shifted sideways to release Father Shipley’s arm from his shoulder. Jack blushed, swallowed hard, and forced a smile. “Thank you, Father.”

Jack had his doubts about Father Shipley, who was always making supposedly friendly contact with his hands – contact that his own father never made. He suspected that another altar boy, Eddie Kovac, a cherubic looking, overweight kid with fair skin and blond hair, was having problems with Father Shipley. In the times that Jack and Kovac were in Shipley’s presence, Kovac would always perspire heavily and make a special effort to keep his distance from Shipley. One time, when Jack had asked Kovac if anything was wrong, Kovac started to cry. Late one afternoon, a few weeks after that, Jack was coming out of the side entrance of the school carrying his school bag when he saw Kovac bolt out of the back door of the rectory rubbing his eyes. He had been crying and the back of his shirt was hanging out of his pants. “What’s wrong, Eddie?” he asked, as Kovac raced past him in tears and out of the gate onto 44th Street. Jack stopped and was scratching his head wondering what was happening, when Father Shipley rushed out of the Rectory door without his cassock, wearing a pair of black pants and a sweat shirt. His face was flushed with anger and his fists were clinched. “Where’d Kovac go?” he demanded in a menacing voice.
Jack froze – froze from within – froze from fear. He felt his sphincter beginning to give way - he tightened up and bit down hard on his teeth. He stood there and stared at Shipley. “Answer my question, young man. Where’d he go?” Jack looked toward the gate, but said nothing as he edged closer to the stairs at the side door of the church. Shipley pushed him aside and ran to the gate, where he paused, looking up and down 44th Street for Kovac. Shipley turned and looked back at Jack, “Don’t go anywhere. I want to talk to you,” Shipley said as he walked back towards Jack, who continued to move closer to the church. “Come into the rectory, we should talk now.” Jack, who couldn’t hold his bowels any longer, continued to back away towards the church. “Kovac has emotional problems – that’s all I want to tell you. Now come inside?” Jack shook his head and ran up the stairs, pulled open the door and went into the church, up onto the altar, and into the bathroom in the sacristy, where his bowels exploded. He sat on the toilet; trembling, afraid to unlock the door for fear that Shipley was waiting for him. In time, he cleaned himself up, carefully made his way out into the church, walked quickly down the side aisle past the Stations of the Cross and the confessionals, and out the front entrance onto 30th Avenue. He stopped at the corner and caught his breath. He looked back at the church and up 44th Street, not knowing that Father Shipley was looking down at him from a second floor window in the rectory. Afraid and confused, Jack crossed 44th Street and ran down 30th Avenue towards the safety of his house.
Jack did not see Kovac for another week. When he did, he asked him what had happened that afternoon. Kovac burst into tears and began to shake.
“Come on, Eddie, tell me what happened?”
Kovac backed away shaking his head. “I can’t because it’s embarrassing – it was awful.”
“What? Please, tell me? Shipley wants me to be a priest.”
“That’s what he told me. Don’t believe him – he just wants to touch you.”
It was too much for Jack to comprehend. “What do you mean? Did he hit you?”
Kovac began to shudder. His crying turned wail-like. Jack found it unsettling. “Jesus, Eddie, what’d he do to you?”
Kovac wiped his eyes and tried to compose himself. “I can’t tell you – it’s embarrassing. I quit the altar boys. All I can say is don’t let him near you. I don’t know what he said about me, but don’t believe him.”
That was the last time Jack spoke to Eddie Kovac at St. Joseph’s. Kovac left school at the end of the term.