Mask of Celibacy: A Multimedia Novella

10 ¦ Pandora's Box

A/N: Cover art courtesy of lostnfovnd. Thank you so much! 💜
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Deception didn't come easily to me, but Mom didn't give me much of a choice.

In a perfect world, I would have told her the truth. But in this imaginary parallel universe, Mom wouldn't have been eighty-four. Nor would she have been raised in a rural Canadian village where Catholic precepts had almost superseded the rule of law. 

From all the stories she'd told us, the Irish migrant families hadn't changed much since they'd initially arrived during the Potato Famine. It was probably different now. But in the twenties and thirties, they'd preserved many of their isolated enclaves and enjoyed little influence from the outside world.

Like tiny organic time capsules.

It didn't matter that we lived in suburban Massachusetts on the cusp of the twenty-first century. In many ways, it was still 1860s Ireland for me.

To be fair, Mom couldn't help it if she was a bit naive or behind the times. She probably thought she was being a super progressive parent.

Despite her love and support, her strict matriarchy didn't make life easy for me. She acted as though it was her sacred duty to protect me from any possibly negative influences. In her mind, everything posed a danger: TV, movies, books, comics, music, art, magazines, you name it.

And worst of all, the Internet. 

If it hadn't been for Grandad, who'd worked as an engineer for General Electric, I never would have known it had existed. But he'd insisted on access to the Web. And when a Spartan-American put his foot down, even the matriarch had to listen.

Thank God for small miracles. And rational types like him.

That didn't prevent Mom from patrolling my media consumption like the thought police in 1984. She seemed to have an uncanny sex scene radar. If a couple started kissing on screen, Mom would invariably open the door and demand to know what I was watching. I didn't know how the hell she managed it. 

Every. Damn. Time. 

Did she have telepathy or some shit?

A part of me wanted to be a snarky whatsit and shout, "I bought a porn movie, Grandma!" Just to see what she'd say. But then I'd probably never see a TV or radio ever again.

Good luck trying to convince her you should visit Holy Cross. Overnight. 

She's going to think the worst.

Oh, well. Here goes nothing.

Buzzing from a caffeine high, I ran downstairs and found her reading the works of Thomas Aquinas in her blue rocking chair. People could say what they wanted about my grandparents. But one thing I could always count on: a wide range of dense religious, philosophical, or scientific literature. 

The only fiction novels in my house were science fiction, historical fiction, and westerns. Again, courtesy of Grandad. Fate had predetermined I would become a nerd of epic proportions. It was up to me to decide whether that would be of a religious or a sci-fi variety.

Mom glanced at me and placed her giant philosophy book aside with a thud. "You look like you want to talk, Jess."

I nodded and sat down on the couch across from her. 

Go with your gut. You got this. 

"What do you know about Holy Cross?"

"I've been suggesting you apply for months," she said, quirking her brow. "It's a prestigious university. Founded by the Jesuits. You know, my brother was a Jesuit. Genius IQ..."