woman, wearing black nun’s robes with a wide white collar, steps through the doorway. She looks too young to have a job as a nun. She waves like she knows us.
I doubt that’s the case.
“Here we go,” Rex says like he knew all along we were going to find a nun in the middle of nowhere. Like he’s happy about it. Like it solves all his problems.
It’s too hot for that uniform. I’ll bet she’s every bit as uncomfortable as I was in my stupid showgirl dress. Whoever decided that women’s clothes should be all about suffering? We all have our burkas to bear, I guess. At least she gets reasonable shoes.
The nun grabs the rope hanging next to the door and pulls. The bell tolls. Thunder rumbles. The two sounds pass each other as one departs and the other rolls in. Thunder cracks like a gunshot right over our heads. Icy drops hit me and fall to the ground. They bounce.
Heavy balls of ice smash into the car. Even though it should be too far away to hear, I hear: thump, thump, thud as hailstones pummel Linda.
The ground turns white with ice. A sharp chunk pelts my shoulder. I cover Harvey’s head and run for the door.
8
A door should be an entrance—or an exit, not something that is neither, nor a combination of the two. That’s the way doors work. What’s the point of having a fucking door if going through it only leads back outside?
Harvey clings to me as I run through the door straight into some kind of courtyard. It doesn’t have a roof and the ground is covered in hailstones. The hail looks like a dusting of snow.
Pretty, the white against the pink blossoms of the roses and bougainvillea, but strange.
Confusing.
The nun scampers after me and grabs my arm. “This way.” Her voice is nearly drowned out by the drumroll of the hail. She pulls me under a covered walkway but not before a huge hailstone nails me on the head. At least they put a roof on some damned thing.
Rex grins at me with his snow-white smile as if he knew all along how the place was laid out. I suppose he doesn’t realize I’m suffering from a hammer blow to the head that does nothing to relieve the headache behind my eyes, or maybe he’s an asshole. At least that rock didn’t hit Harvey.
I set the boy down on the ground. He clings to my leg and holds on tight. The hail stops. The silence hangs in the air, heavy and threatening. I wait for a bomb to explode, which is ridiculous, I know, but that’s how it feels.
No bomb explodes.
Like nothing ever happened, the sun reappears and glares down on the compound like it’s just another day in the desert. The frosting on the ground curls up and disappears, leaving only the largest chunks to drip and sweat like pieces of old snowmen.
“I’m so excited you’re here,” the nun says.
The nun has chipmunk cheeks. A moon face, my white mother would call it, sprinkled with freckles. She’s light-skinned, but something about the way she holds her mouth as though it’s poised to speak Spanish signals that she isn’t Caucasian. Tendrils of her hair bounce as if to emphasize her words. She doesn’t wear one of those nun hats. My white mother would have been happier if I had turned out like this girl. She never said it, of course.
She didn’t have to.
My mom never really got over the fact that I didn’t go to college. That I did what I wanted instead of what she wanted. In retrospect, I’m thinking that maybe I could have toned things down a bit. Maybe when I get to Mexico, I’ll give her a call and let her know she wasn’t completely wrong.
“And you brought a little child,” the nun says. “I love children. Children are a gift to us all. I am so very happy you’re here. It feels like my birthday.”
Take a breath already, damn.
She reaches out to Harvey.
He makes a startled sound and pulls back. He bares his little pebble-like teeth.
Baldy growls a warning and he too bares his teeth.
I hope I’m not going to have to deal with
I doubt that’s the case.
“Here we go,” Rex says like he knew all along we were going to find a nun in the middle of nowhere. Like he’s happy about it. Like it solves all his problems.
It’s too hot for that uniform. I’ll bet she’s every bit as uncomfortable as I was in my stupid showgirl dress. Whoever decided that women’s clothes should be all about suffering? We all have our burkas to bear, I guess. At least she gets reasonable shoes.
The nun grabs the rope hanging next to the door and pulls. The bell tolls. Thunder rumbles. The two sounds pass each other as one departs and the other rolls in. Thunder cracks like a gunshot right over our heads. Icy drops hit me and fall to the ground. They bounce.
Heavy balls of ice smash into the car. Even though it should be too far away to hear, I hear: thump, thump, thud as hailstones pummel Linda.
The ground turns white with ice. A sharp chunk pelts my shoulder. I cover Harvey’s head and run for the door.
8
A door should be an entrance—or an exit, not something that is neither, nor a combination of the two. That’s the way doors work. What’s the point of having a fucking door if going through it only leads back outside?
Harvey clings to me as I run through the door straight into some kind of courtyard. It doesn’t have a roof and the ground is covered in hailstones. The hail looks like a dusting of snow.
Pretty, the white against the pink blossoms of the roses and bougainvillea, but strange.
Confusing.
The nun scampers after me and grabs my arm. “This way.” Her voice is nearly drowned out by the drumroll of the hail. She pulls me under a covered walkway but not before a huge hailstone nails me on the head. At least they put a roof on some damned thing.
Rex grins at me with his snow-white smile as if he knew all along how the place was laid out. I suppose he doesn’t realize I’m suffering from a hammer blow to the head that does nothing to relieve the headache behind my eyes, or maybe he’s an asshole. At least that rock didn’t hit Harvey.
I set the boy down on the ground. He clings to my leg and holds on tight. The hail stops. The silence hangs in the air, heavy and threatening. I wait for a bomb to explode, which is ridiculous, I know, but that’s how it feels.
No bomb explodes.
Like nothing ever happened, the sun reappears and glares down on the compound like it’s just another day in the desert. The frosting on the ground curls up and disappears, leaving only the largest chunks to drip and sweat like pieces of old snowmen.
“I’m so excited you’re here,” the nun says.
The nun has chipmunk cheeks. A moon face, my white mother would call it, sprinkled with freckles. She’s light-skinned, but something about the way she holds her mouth as though it’s poised to speak Spanish signals that she isn’t Caucasian. Tendrils of her hair bounce as if to emphasize her words. She doesn’t wear one of those nun hats. My white mother would have been happier if I had turned out like this girl. She never said it, of course.
She didn’t have to.
My mom never really got over the fact that I didn’t go to college. That I did what I wanted instead of what she wanted. In retrospect, I’m thinking that maybe I could have toned things down a bit. Maybe when I get to Mexico, I’ll give her a call and let her know she wasn’t completely wrong.
“And you brought a little child,” the nun says. “I love children. Children are a gift to us all. I am so very happy you’re here. It feels like my birthday.”
Take a breath already, damn.
She reaches out to Harvey.
He makes a startled sound and pulls back. He bares his little pebble-like teeth.
Baldy growls a warning and he too bares his teeth.
I hope I’m not going to have to deal with
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