Even his voice changed ever so slightly, just a hint of a deepness that wasn’t there before. His boyish looks were still there but his features became more mature in the slightest of ways. The only thing I didn’t know was how much he changed inside. The small glimpses showed me he’d become more serious and aloof, yet I didn’t know if that was because of his decision to become a priest and let me go or if it was just how things were with everyone. I, myself, had changed quite a bit, my zest for life and need for adventure hiding deep inside of me. I’d become less talkative and lost my excitement for the future.
Yet, those small moments with André brought it back, if only for a short time while we kissed. It seemed when our lips crashed together, the passion ignited more than just my hormones. My dreams of spending my life with him came rushing back and excitement flowed through my veins, only to be stopped when he rejected a future between us.
Wiping away the salty tear from my cheek, I told myself out loud, “Think of Paris.” I closed my eyes and imagined myself there, my only knowledge gained from the pictures I’d seen in books from the library. The tales told of city lights burning brightly and the metal tower rising high in the sky. I imagined myself in the middle of it all, dancing with a young stranger as musicians played in the streets.
Lost in my daydreams, I swayed as I hummed a tune I’d heard drifting softly through the windows during summer nights. I felt free and young, happier than I’d been in a long time. For the first time, I really looked forward to leaving this place and moving to Paris.
The sad reality of my life came crashing down when I heard the click of the door handle opening. I stopped in my tracks and turned, meeting André again. “You look happy,” he said hesitantly, as if his words would cause me to snap at him.
I chose to go the other route and forced myself to smile through the pain, “Yes. I was just thinking about Paris and all the wonderful things I will experience when I go there.”
His face was like stone, unreadable even to me, “I didn’t realize you were leaving. I’m glad, Simone. You deserve to be happy and I know you will be there.”
“I would’ve been happier if I’d gone there three years ago,” I answered before whispering at the end, “with you.”
He sighed, “Look, I need to explain things to you but I don’t know if I should.”
“Does it matter now?” my voice was tired as I asked.
“No, I suppose it doesn’t. You’re going and that’s what matters. We are both finding our own paths in life.”
My heart squeezed in my chest at his answer. Part of me knew reconciliation wasn’t going to happen but I wanted it to. I wanted him to tell me he still loved me, that he’d made a mistake, and beg me for forgiveness as he threw away his frock and realized being a priest was not for him. The André I knew would never be satisfied in a pious life of strict rules. Maybe I didn't know him anymore, but I failed to believe he could have changed that much in such a short time.
We both picked up our rags and continued to clean in uncomfortable silence. I was hyper aware of every move he made , yearning to have those strong hands touch me instead of the dirty rag. Why couldn’t I just get over him?
“So, when do you leave?” he asked casually after a while.
Holding my voice as steady as I could, I replied, “I’m not sure. I’m still waiting for Sister Marie to make the arrangements. I was accepted to a school a couple of years ago, but it expired when I chose not to go. She’s working on it, along with a place for me to stay and a job, so I can live once my savings runs out. She’s doing more for me than any of the other orphans and I appreciate it.”
He hummed in acknowledgement and went back to work. I could feel his eyes burning through me, so I looked down at him. He quickly averted his eyes and we played this game for the next hour or so.
The sun had lowered in the sky, showing it was late afternoon already. We finished the outside walls and moved to the pews, this time on opposite sides of the nave. I felt like I could breathe again with the much-needed distance and made sure to never end up on the same side as him by starting on the inside of the aisle and working my way out. The few glances at him showed his face more relaxed as he rubbed the pews. I hadn’t realized how tense he’d been since he arrived. He looked younger when he was at peace, more like the boy I fell in love with so many years ago.
The internal struggle was exhausting and I tried again to daydream of Paris, this time the art museum I’d longed to go to. Ever since I saw the black and white photos of the old paintings in a book, I’d wanted to go see them for real. I could only use my imagination to picture the colors of them and marveled at how beautiful they must look all together. How wonderful it would be to stand in that museum amidst a kaleidoscope of colors. Maybe one day, my own art would hang on the walls of the famous museum.
My dreaming worked and I didn’t look once at André until my stomach grumbled, indicating it was dinner time. “I can finish the pews and floors tomorrow. I’ll go get dinner and bring it back for you and Father Augustin.”
Picking up my things, I rushed out before he could say anything else. I wouldn’t dine with them tonight because I had no reason to. My emotions couldn’t take it anymore anyway. It was for the best if I stayed away as much as possible until I could leave.
At dinner, I asked Sister Marie if Sister Catherine and I could switch duties the next day. “I feel like my arms will fall off from all the scrubbing. It’s only a few remaining pews and the floor. Besides, I’d love to spend some time with the children. I’m sure they would love an art class with me.”
Despite knowing I wasn’t fooling her as to why I wanted to stay away from the church, she allowed it, “It would be good for Sister Catherine to get to know the church better. She will take over your duties when you leave.”
“When am I leaving?” I questioned hopefully.
“I haven’t heard back from the school, but I believe you will be able to start in September when the new year begins. I’ve found a room for you in one of the group homes run by a sister church. It’s very close to the school and the center of Paris.”
I groaned, “September is so far away. It’s only the beginning of summer.”
“I know, child, but it’s the best I could do. School is on break at the moment, and I still don’t know if they will let you in after you turned down a spot once,” her voice not as kind as it normally was. I knew she was annoyed. I had thrown everything away waiting for André’s return. It seemed everyone wanted me to have a life I didn’t want. The reality was, I wanted it with André and would have been happy no matter where we ended up as long as we were together.
Sister Marie may have been disappointed in my decisions, but I was angry she knew the whole time and never said a word. If she’d just told me back then, I wouldn’t have stayed. Granted, I probably would have taken my pittance and gone to find André if she had told me. I could still hold onto a small amount of anger for her part in keeping the secret.
Sister Elizabeth woke up from her short nap and seemed to know what the discussion was about. It was as if she had a second sight. “Simone, you have waited years to go. A few more months won’t hurt anything.”
I grew frustrated with everyone acting as if I did this to myself and my deep love for André meant nothing, “I have my reasons for staying and having that reason come back and reject me again is hard enough. I don’t need everyone telling me to have patience. I’ve spent three years being patient.” The chair scraped loudly against the floor as I stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day and I need to rest.”
“I’m sorry, Simone,” Sister Anna called after me, making me pause in the door. “Please understand, none of us have ever known that kind of love towards anyone but God and He’s always with us.”
Shame filled me for my outburst. Her words were true, and I shouldn’t have judged them so harshly. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s been a trying couple of days and I shouldn’t take it out on a
ny of you. Please forgive me Sisters,” I was tired down to my bones and resigned to the upheaval in my life. Emotionally burned out but that didn’t make my actions right.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Sister Marie waved her hand. “Go home and get some rest. We will see what we can do to make the next few months bearable for you. If I find out about your status at the university, you could move there earlier. I just don’t want you to have the expense of moving if you need to go to a different university.”
Chapter Twelve - Simone
A week went by without me running into André. I chose to skip the baptism despite it being my favorite ritual. It was my only day off for the week and I couldn’t be around him. I spent the day in my apartment drawing until I grew frustrated with each piece of art ending up as something to do with André. In my little window seat, I looked out to the city as I enjoyed the light breeze.
At one point, I could swear I saw André standing on the street looking up at me. He wasn’t dressed in his frock, but in simple pants and a shirt. Before I could make out if it were him or not, he turned and walked away. I tried to push it off as my own longing for him to come to me and beg for my forgiveness, a wish I couldn’t let go of.
It happened again another night when I sat at the window sketching the lights of Lyon reflecting off the Saône River. The hairs of my neck stood on end, and I looked down to see a shadowy figure standing just outside of the streetlight. I leaned out the window and called out to him, “André?” but he just walked away quickly, the only sound in the quiet of the night was the hurried footsteps which faded quickly.
That week of having a break from bringing meals to the rectory was both wonderful and horrible, with my yearning to see him and avoid him at the same time. I wanted to ask if he was the one who kept standing in the street across from my apartment, yet I didn’t want to know the answer. I found myself having a hard time concentrating on my work, especially when Sister Catherine mentioned Father Augustin asked about me and spoke of how handsome Deacon André was. It was the former that caused a spike of jealousy to rise to the surface and I chided her, “You’ve both taken vows. I hope you don’t speak about this to anyone else.”
“Of course not. I simply made an observation,” she responded politely before bowing her head in shame. As she walked away, I felt terrible for my words and vowed to apologize.
My work with the children kept my mind and body busy. The little hands made quite a mess with paints the first day, so I took them outside for the rest of the art projects. They had quite a fun time looking for flowers and leaves to press for decorations for the upcoming holy day of Assumption. A time to celebrate Mary’s entry into Heaven was an important day for us.
The beauty of the treasures they found took my breath away and I loved how creative they were as they came up with ideas of how to arrange the flowers. It made my heart full to be surrounded by children, their innocence and zest for life, something I’d lost myself.
As our little art project grew to creating a collage of Mary from flowers, it occurred to me that I could become an art teacher. The idea of shaping young minds and introducing them to the same love of art I always held thrilled me. For so long, I didn’t know exactly what I would do aside from paint and create beauty, but I could only picture doing it in a little studio on my own. How to sell it or make a living from it eluded me. Now, I had something to aim for and I could hardly contain my excitement.
I gathered the children and we carried our flowers to a large table outside where Sister Elizabeth used to prepare her seedlings. Spreading them out, we began the process of setting them out to dry. Eleven pairs of hands made the work fast, though I did have to stop one or two of the more daring ones from eating the petals. “They looked so good,” the little boy named Charlie smiled broadly at me, not bothered in the least that I’d gently scolded him.
“They do look good enough to eat but they will give you quite the tummy ache. Now, children, no eating the flowers. Some can make you quite ill,” I told the entire group. I never thought I would have to tell children not to eat flowers.
André’s voice came from behind me as he chuckled, “That’s right. Listen to Miss Simone. She learned the hard way when she was a child.”
I crossed my arms and glared at him as the little voices begged to know what happened. “I don’t think they need to know this,” my stomach dropped at the sight of him with his boyish grin. It brought me back to the time when our lives were simple and none of the pain was anywhere in sight.
Ignoring me, he told the story with all of the charisma I’d seen in the church when he practiced the baptism. I found myself just as entranced as the children as he spoke, “She believed they had to taste good since the bees and the butterflies always sucked the nectar from them. I tried to tell her it didn’t work that way, but she insisted. You know how stubborn Miss Simone can be.” He winked and the children giggled around him. “I could see by her face they tasted horrible, yet she insisted they were good. So good, in fact, she could eat nothing but daylilies for the rest of her life. I didn’t believe her, so of course she had to prove me wrong and ate a whole row of them.”
“Okay, you can stop now,” I muttered in annoyance.
Again, he ignored me, continuing with the most embarrassing part. “That night, she had a horrible stomachache and ended up in the bathroom all night and into the next morning. The nuns were worried and about to take her to the doctor when she confessed. Sister Elizabeth marched out to the garden and found her beloved lilies beheaded. I’d never seen her so cross before. And poor Miss Simone had to stay on the toilet for a full day while she was spoon fed gross tasting medicine to stop her diarrhea.”
“So, children, the moral of the story is to never eat flowers unless you know they are safe. I’m sure Sister Elizabeth would love it if you ate the dandelions from the garden. Those pesky weeds are quite healthy for you.” Once he stopped his story, he was inundated with questions from the curious children. They were always excited to meet new people and vied for his attention. He was shown the table of flowers and his head whipped from one side to another as they took pleasure in pointing out which ones they each picked.
I had to stop them when the arguing started by one child, insisting she picked the pretty purple flower another child claimed as her find. “Alright, it’s time for us to have a snack. I’m sure the Deacon has his own learning to do today. He’s in training to become a priest like Father Augustin,” I told them. It was petty for me to get a little dig in before I left, but it felt good. I hated how much I still yearned for him to be mine. It was as if every cell in my body knew he was the one for me and would keep fighting for him no matter what my brain said.
I didn’t dare look back as I led them into the orphanage. Already, my body was protesting each step I took away from André, and I didn’t need to give it any more desire to fight. September was too far away, and I was afraid I would end up hurting just as much as the first time he walked out of my life. I couldn’t let myself sink that far down again, not with Sister Elizabeth so ill. We needed every hand possible to keep the orphanage running smoothly and I couldn’t afford a month in bed or delaying my own life when I just discovered what I wanted to do.
*******
Another week flew by and I saw André more often this time. Sister Marie insisted I had enough time to recover and I should resume my normal duties. She also strongly encouraged me to attend confession since I was very much on edge. She was a firm believer in confessions being required to set one’s soul right again and attended it on her own at least once a week.
The church was empty when I entered it, aside from the priest I knew was in the confessional booth. My palms were sweaty, knowing I would tell Father Augustin everything I’d felt in the past few weeks. When the door closed behind me, I felt the pressure of being in an enclosed space with the weight of all my feelings pressing down on me. The door to the privacy screen opening did little to calm my nerves, though knowing th
e Father couldn’t see me as more than a shadow was slightly comforting.
Taking a deep breath, I began, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been six months since my last confession.”
The muffled voice answered, “The Lord will be happy you are here.”
It was my sign to purge my soul and I hesitated, wondering how to say it without causing an issue for Father Augustin. “Your words to me are private. Only myself and God will hear and he already knows what’s in your heart,” the priest’s words comforted me.
“I have committed many sins. I lust after a man I shouldn’t desire. I cannot rid myself of the thoughts of following my carnal desires. I imagine making love to him and we are not married, and never will be. I should be leaving but I can’t, not with him so near. But I can’t stay because he’s too much of a temptation. Lord, help me, he’s a part of my soul.” My voice broke as I continued my confession, “I love him more than anyone on this earth, even more than God.”
“Father, I don’t know how to stop these feelings. I believe if I can manage to make myself leave this city, I will be miserable without him,” tears pricked my eyes as I let everything out. “I tried to kill myself when he came back, and I realized he’d never be able to be with me as a man is with a woman. I knew if I took my own life, I wouldn’t go to Heaven, but it didn’t matter. He rejected me time and time again, yet I can’t stop loving him with everything I am,” I continued to confess all the things which happened between us since his return, along with the hatred I held in my heart towards Sister Marie and my anger towards God.
Sobs wracked my body as I bared my soul to Father Augustin. He didn’t say anything in response, but I was too caught up in my own misery to notice. The sudden light in the dim box caused me to jump, and looking up, all I could see was a shadow of a figure standing in the confessional doorway.
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