by Suzzy Roche
“So, cheers.” He raised his glass to hers. “But what’s this all about?”
“I’m trying—feeling better—and I thought I’d do something. After all, you worked all day.”
They cut into their steaks. The meat was tough.
“Potatoes,” he said, lifting a forkful.
“Yeah.”
“I could eat potatoes every day.”
“I guess I should be making them every day.
Lil relaxed a bit. Tough meat or not, she had accomplished making dinner, like a normal housewife, and she knew that every step toward normal was a step closer to Alice.
“Hey, you know, they’re having that costume party at the convent is this Tuesday. Maybe we could go. I’m sure Alice will be there, and I’m dying to see her. Have you spoken to Clarisse?” The mention of Clarisse’s name drove an instant wedge between them.
“Lil. I don’t think—yes, I have spoken to Clarisse. Alice is doing well. I don’t know how much longer we can impose on her like this, but she insists she’s okay. The woman is a ball of energy. She’s been a real friend.”
Lil let that be. “We could bring Alice home, you know. I mean, look, I seem better, right?” It was odd to be auditioning like this.
“Let’s see how the week plays out.”
Jim picked up his drink and swirled the ice cubes in his glass. “By the way, guess what? Big news. I’m finally getting that promotion.”
“Really? Jim. Wow.”
“Yeah, imagine: I actually did something right.”
“Oh, come on.”
Jim came alive recounting the meeting with his boss. “It was so funny. When Callahan called me in—you know how much I hate his guts—but then, boom, all of a sudden, the whole thing flipped around, and he started talking about what a great asset to the team I am. And I felt completely different. He said Cramsky has had his eye on me, just waiting for the right time to push me upstairs. I don’t know if it was baloney or not. I mean, how bizarre, more money, finally. And then, you wouldn’t believe, before I left the office, he hugged me. It was kind of awful, but—”
“No, it’s great, Jim.”
He stopped short. It had been a while since he’d really looked her in the eye. He reached his hand over and put it on top of hers. “No, actually, it’s not great, Lil.” He stared at her.
“What’s wrong?” she said, pulling her hand away.
“It means nothing because you don’t even like me anymore,” he said.
“I’m here, Jim. Don’t worry. Please. This is good news.”
“I’m hanging by a thread, Lil.” He got up and moved over to the liquor cabinet to refresh his drink. “You may be feeling better, but I feel like shit,” he said.
“But why?” said Lil.
After a gulp of his drink, he stood behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. She stiffened as he buried his face in her curls and started to kiss the rim of her ear.
“Lil,” he whispered. “Let me touch you.”
She closed her eyes, smelling the whiskey on his breath. This was the moment she should turn to him and accept his kiss. He would want more, and that’s what a wife should do for a husband. That’s normal. But every muscle clenched.
Sensing her resistance, he returned to his glass of whiskey, and threw it back. “I don’t know what I did to repulse you so much. What did I do?” He poured himself a refill and turned back to her. “Thanks for dinner,” he said, and left the room. Lil could hear his heavy footsteps on the basement stairs.
SHE LOADED the Westinghouse and turned it on, washed the pans, sponged off the counters, and tied the garbage. The light above the sink buzzed and glowed faintly in the kitchen, where she sat until she was sure Jim had fallen asleep. Then, grabbing her coat from the hall closet, she slipped out the front door and quietly down the steps. When she reached the street, she ran; she ran down Mundy Lane, and then through the streets of Hanzloo, her coattails twirling in the wind. The moon, yellow as an egg yolk, was nearly full.
Around the corner from the school and the church, alongside the graveyard, the convent was a big old house that had seen better days. Leading up to the ornate doorway was a wide, stone staircase; several steps were chipped, and a few empty flowerpots sat on either side. Lil paused, breathless, at the bottom of the stairs. She held to the railing and looked up at the convent door. Some lights from windows on an upper floor were lit, but the front hall was dark. If the sisters were asleep, she’d cause a stir. She couldn’t bring herself to ring the bell.
She had started back down the sidewalk when the convent door opened, and Sister A. ushered Luke Spoon onto the stoop. Lil ducked behind the graveyard wall to watch them. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, just the soft murmur of their voices. Luke Spoon took the sister’s hand and shook it gently, reaching to kiss her on the cheek. He hurried down the stairs, rushing past the wall where Lil was hiding.
When he was out of sight, Sister A. bent down to straighten a flowerpot. She peered out into the night and began to sing, with her hands clasped before her, her voice cracking with age.
Way down in the valley my lambs be ye found
Secure from the tempests that now sweep around
Tis low in the vale my blessings flow
But on the barren mountain bleak and chilly winds do blow…
Despite her concerns, as if the earth had tipped slightly off its axis, Lil had the urge to laugh. Luke Spoon, the nun singing in the moonlight, and she, on her knees in the graveyard. It was all too much.
“Sister!”
Sister A. strained to see her.
“It’s me, Lil O’Brien.”
“For heaven’s sake, what are you doing in the graveyard? Come here.”
Lil stood at the bottom of the stairs of the convent, brushing leaves and twigs from her clothes. “I thought I might be able to speak to you.”
“It’s past midnight,” said Sister A.
“I know, but you did suggest I come,” said Lil.
“I didn’t mean the middle of the night. But okay.”
“I guess I’ve run away from home.”
Sister A. squinted back at her. “One thing and another, you really are having a rough patch, aren’t you? You might as well come in.”
“Couldn’t we just sit on the steps?”
“No, dear, I don’t sit on steps,” she said.
Inside the convent, Sister A. led Lil down the front hall. The house had a musty smell of incense. Sister Annunciata took Lil’s hand and led her up a back staircase, down a long hall of closed doors.
She put her index finger to her lips as she opened a door at the end of the hall.
“This is what we call the Jesus room,” she said. “Reserved for emergencies.” It was dark, and a small single bed was lit by moonlight from the window. “I have things to tend to now, so go to sleep and we’ll talk it out in the morning.”
“But—” said Lil.
“Shhh,” said Sister A., and she closed the door, leaving Lil alone.
Hours passed, and Lil could not relax in her strange new room. She sat upright, swinging her crossed legs and biting her thumbnail. If she had been trapped at home, now she was trapped here, in the Jesus room, no less. Frying pan to fire. When she finally lay down, it was late into the night, and mercifully, she slept until morning.
TWENTY
FELIX HAD RUN around the living room, kicking at his rocking chair, banging his fists up against the living room walls, punching at his own drawings.
“No! Please don’t! Oh, Luke!” He collapsed to the floor and begged on his knees. When that didn’t work, he upped the ante, stomping his feet repeatedly, and chanting defiantly, “I won’t go! I won’t go.” He hollered until his face turned dark as a thunder cloud, and as a last resort, he employed guilt. “How could you send me to the convent?” he wailed. “That one-eyed elephant! She’s always after me! And what about Halloween! You promised, Luke, you PROMISED to help me with my costume.”
Event
ually, though, Felix trailed off into a whimper, and curled up on the floor.
“If anyone finds out I’m staying with the nuns, they’ll laugh me to death. Who do you think I am, Alice O’Brien? It hurts! It hurts. You have no idea what happens.”
Luke put a hand on his shoulder. “Felix, if only you could see into the future. Those kids who laugh at you, they have no idea who you really are. But Sister A. She told me she likes you. She’s a smart lady, and don’t forget, she understands about being … different. She’s a nun; but she won’t hurt you. I’m sorry I have to go, but I’ll be back before you know it, hopefully with some good news.”
“THIS LOOKS like a monster’s house,” said Felix, as they approached the convent steps.
Sister Annunciata met them at the door and led them into the front room, where Felix sat on the edge of the couch, idly running his fingers across its embroidered cushion. In spite of himself, he was curious about the large fireplace, and Sister A. said that they would have a fire for the costume party, and since he’d be staying with them, he could help them throw the logs and watch them light the kindling.
After a few minutes of small talk, which none of them were good at, Sister A. brought them upstairs to her private rooms. She had opened a cot at the foot of her bed, and Luke placed Felix’s suitcase beside it.
“I have to sleep in here with you?” said Felix, addressing the nun for the first time.
“Yes, you do.”
Felix turned to Luke and rolled his eyes.
After he crawled into his cot, Luke bent down and passed his thumb across Felix’s cheek. “I should go. And look, I think you’re going to have a great time. This is what I’d call an adventure.”
“I don’t like it,” said Felix.
BACK DOWNSTAIRS, Sister A. had walked Luke Spoon to the door, and he apologized that he hadn’t had time to make a costume for Felix.
“He has his heart set on being a devil,” said Luke.
“Provocative,” said Sister A.
“But isn’t that the point of Halloween? Look, I think he should have his way with this. Once, his mother made him a similar costume.”
“Did she,” she said blankly. “I see. Well, we’ll do our best.”
“He’s taking a lot of flak from other kids.”
“It’s Mike Fitzpatrick and his cohorts. I’ll watch out for him,” she said.
Outside, on the convent steps, Luke leaned in to kiss the nun’s cheek before heading home.
BY MORNING, Sister Annunciata had a lot on her mind. She left Lil O’Brien alone for the time being, managed to keep Felix out of sight until the other sisters were up and out, and then she brought a bowl of oatmeal up to her room. Felix had dressed himself and was sitting on the cot with his feet dangling, shoes untied.
“Okay,” she said, placing the oatmeal on a nightstand. “Once and for all, let’s solve this problem.” With great effort, she got down on her knees and gently took the laces of his shoes. “First this. See? And then you loop the strings, and now tie, like this, and then pull tight. It’s that simple. Now, you do the other shoe.”
Felix hesitated.
“Just try it,” she said. “No one is here but you and me.”
He made some progress, but the looping of the laces proved too difficult and he gave up, dropping them in a huff.
“Think,” she said. “Try to remember what I said.”
Felix picked up the laces again, and this time he was able to make the bow. Sister A. helped him pull it tight.
“Hallelujah! It’s a miracle! Look there!” She grabbed his knee and shook it right to left. “Now, breakfast.”
In silence, Sister A. watched him eat his oatmeal, spoonful by spoonful, until the bowl was empty. Once finished, he handed her his bowl.
“Thank you, Sister,” she said.
“Thank you, Sister,” he said.
“Felix, your father has asked me to help you with a Halloween costume.”
“Never mind. I was supposed to be a devil, but I doubt you’d let me.
“Well, I have to think about that.”
“I never even asked you to. But please, don’t make me be a nun,” Felix said. “You shouldn’t be scared of the devil. My mother said the devil is just the bad mood of God.”
“That’s a good one,” said Sister A.
“My mother’s smart!” said Felix.
“I’m sure she is,” said Sister A. “Look, I’ve decided that as long as your devil is clever enough to refrain from being mean …”
“I’m never mean.”
“I suppose we could strike a deal.”
“You’d help me? But how? How would we get the important ingredients? The horns and tail? It has to be a good costume,” said Felix.
“We’ll take a stab at it. Maybe some of the other sisters can help. Today, after school, wait for me by the church and I’ll walk you back to the convent once everyone else has left,” she said. “We’ll work on it tonight.”
He sat on the bed with his head down.
“You’re welcome, Felix,” she said.
AS FELIX walked toward his classroom, he wondered if Sister Annunciata slept in pajamas or kept her robes on. Tonight, he hoped to stay awake long enough to watch her sleep. So far, she wasn’t as bad as he’d thought she’d be.
All day, through the slow dreary hours of school, Felix thought about the convent, and what his costume might look like. He longed to tell Alice O’Brien that he was staying there, but he couldn’t catch her eye.
Alice had gotten even stranger. She’d stopped raising her hand in class, which was surprising because she always knew the answers. He’d hoped that she would develop an interest in him, but now she was far off in her own world, and he doubted that would ever happen.
Mrs. Dickson didn’t seem to care; no one seemed to care about Alice O’Brien, and Felix felt sad whenever he looked at her. Her face was like a delicate egg, something he would treasure if he owned it; like his marbles, like the rock of God.
Everyone knew she’d been sent to live with the McCarthy twins. She must have done something bad to deserve that, but it was hard for him to imagine what Alice might have done. At the end of the day, he left a blue jay’s feather in her desk.
LATER, AT the convent, dinner was served in the formal dining room. When Sister Annunciata led Felix into the room, he felt small as he walked by the long wooden table where all the nuns were seated. Their eyes turned toward him. First, he saw Sister Clare Veronica, the ornery one with the big thick glasses who, just the other day, had yelled at him for running down the hall. Seated next to her was Sister Ann, almost short enough to be a child. Sister John the Baptist was next. Her long, sharp fingernails were notorious in the detention hall for poking and pinching troublemakers. Sister Loretta, who’d been Felix’s teacher last year, was at the table too. She was young and kind, but she didn’t smile when he passed her.
As he looked down the line of familiar faces, all of them framed by their black habits, he was surprised to see Alice O’Brien’s mother at the end of the table, her hair pulled back into a bun.
Sister Annunciata led him to a seat across from Alice’s mother, then took her place between them at the head of the table. She tapped on her water glass.
Prayers were said, and all but Felix bowed their heads, mouthing words that were unfamiliar to him. Afterward the sisters passed the dishes around in silence. To Felix’s left sat Sister Rita Joseph, a woman so old her hands shook. She picked out a chicken leg and plopped it onto Felix’s plate, along with a spoonful of rice and peas. Aside from some muffled thank yous when dishes were passed, the only sound was the tinkling of silverware on plates. At several points throughout the meal, Felix locked eyes with Alice’s mother, but she quickly looked away. The food was warm and tasty, better than what Luke could make, and Felix ate it all.
After the dinner the nuns removed the dishes—each had a chore—and quickly the table was cleared; not a crumb remained. The clanking of pots and pans re
sounded from the kitchen, and Felix was, at last, alone in the room with Mrs. O’Brien. Like two hostages with only a moment of privacy to spare, he whispered to her, “Why are you here?”
She whispered back, “I could ask you the same thing.”
“My father had to go to New York City,” said Felix. Sensing he had little time before the nuns would come back in, he added, “How come Alice lives with the twins now?”
Before Lil had a chance to answer, Sister Annunciata was back in the dining room, carrying a pair of scissors and a sewing basket.
“So, Mrs. O’Brien, you know Felix, isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” said Lil.
“Felix is going to be a devil for Halloween, and it’s our job get his costume together. I invite you to stay and advise us.”
TWENTY-ONE
LIL HAD NO particular expertise in Halloween costumes, and Sister A.’s invitation seemed more like an order than a suggestion. She’d spent the whole day doing convent chores, and there’d hardly been a word between her and Sister A. The nuns were interesting, though. It was not unfamiliar to her, this life of silence, as a hard silence had now lodged itself in her own home. Had Jim even tried to find out where she was?
One by one, the nuns returned to the dining room. Sister Loretta, despite her soft voice, was the tallest, youngest, and most athletic of all the nuns. She lugged an old sewing machine into the room and hoisted it onto a side table, then helped Sister Rita Joseph—unsteady even with her cane—to sit down before it. Tiny Sister Ann entered from another door, carrying a bolt of red fabric under her arm. She pulled out a chair and asked Felix to take off his shoes and step up onto the dining room table.
Soon Felix was surrounded by nuns, all of whom had been assigned to one detail or another in the making of his costume. The sisters, as if they were trimming a Christmas tree, made adjustments here and there. Those who were not busy with a task sized up the situation with folded arms, inspecting the work of others, nodding, and praising the progress. Sister John the Baptist rifled through the sewing basket, found a tape measure, and proceeded to measure Felix around the waist, legs and arms. She instructed him to turn this way and that until her measurements were completed.