biting.
“We’ll be good friends before you know it.” She hugs herself to express her joy. She is so cheerful she is actually wiggling.
I’m wondering how hard I’d have to squeeze her head to make it pop.
“We had an accident a while back,” Rex explains. “Poor ole Linda, that’s what I call her, my car. You know what linda means in Spanish?”
The perky nun shakes her head.
I call bullshit. This chick is Mexican.
“Means beautiful .” Rex looks like he could scoop her up and give her a hug. “And beautiful she is!” Rex is positively glowing. “’71 Pontiac GTO with eight horses, dual overhead cams, a posi-track rear end…”
He continues, but it all turns to blah, blah, blah .
The nun locks her sparkling, enthusiastic eyes onto his.
Bitch.
“She’s going to need some work to make her road worthy,” Rex says. “I can do the body work once I get her to L.A., but she’s not going anywhere without a patch to her radiator.”
“Father can help you with that. He’s very handy.”
All the while they’ve been talking, the nun has been leading us along the walkway. We pass doors with metal straps holding the wide wooden slats in place. The doors look like they belong in an Old West fort. Howdy, Sheriff. Right nice weather we’re having.
We pass one with its door ajar. Inside there’s a tiny wooden bed and a roughhewn stand holding a ceramic pot. A chamber pot! What the fuck. The tiny room looks as though it should be behind glass in a museum, like letters from Buffalo Bill might be in the drawers of the writing desk.
A hunky-looking version of Jesus on the cross hangs crooked on the wall like some lonely little nun has hastily replaced it. Fuck me, Jesus , I can’t stop myself from thinking. Chances are I’m going to hell anyway. If there is such a thing.
Harvey grips my hand and clutches my leg. It makes walking difficult, but I don’t shake him off. I think about it though. Baldy slinks along with us. He growls at everything. The dog does not seem to like it here. The boy doesn’t seem all that thrilled either. He’s a weird kid. He’s not interested in anything. He just keeps his eyes focused straight ahead.
“Are you the only one here?” I ask, because what the hell is she doing out here in the middle of nowhere. This place is seriously weird.
“Father and I are caretakers for the mission.”
Something’s not right but I can’t say what it is. I’ve got this feeling that’s making the hair on the back of my neck prickle.
Maybe they’ve got a phone. Or, I don’t know, a telegraph machine. What’s the Morse code for SOS? Ha! Save Our Souls. That’s a good one.
“Where is your father?” I ask. He’s probably not her father, I think, as soon as the words leave my mouth. But who knows, maybe he is.
Rex shoots me a look like I’m being rude.
I guess maybe I did use a little bit of tone. Freckles, the cheerful nun, doesn’t seem to mind.
“Father’s gone down to the well. He should be back before long. I’m sure he heard the bell. Are you hungry? I’ve prepared a meal. It’s extra yummy.” Freckles smiles and gestures to an open door.
A single fly, bigger than an ordinary housefly, zooms and swoops through the doorway.
The nun narrows her eyes and looks at Harvey as she reaches into the folds of her habit in the general area where a pocket might be and takes out something that looks like a rolled-up newspaper.
Fuck.
They get newspapers.
“Father always comes when he hears the bell.” She gives me one of those looks mean girls give when teachers or their parents are around. Or maybe it’s not that kind of look at all, but something about it makes me edgy.
She swats at a fly.
As soon as she swats one, there are more. They perch on the doorjamb, the lips of the flower boxes and every surface they can find. The nun’s swatting only stirs them up. They’re bigger than any flies I’ve ever seen. I’ll bet their maggots are seriously
“We’ll be good friends before you know it.” She hugs herself to express her joy. She is so cheerful she is actually wiggling.
I’m wondering how hard I’d have to squeeze her head to make it pop.
“We had an accident a while back,” Rex explains. “Poor ole Linda, that’s what I call her, my car. You know what linda means in Spanish?”
The perky nun shakes her head.
I call bullshit. This chick is Mexican.
“Means beautiful .” Rex looks like he could scoop her up and give her a hug. “And beautiful she is!” Rex is positively glowing. “’71 Pontiac GTO with eight horses, dual overhead cams, a posi-track rear end…”
He continues, but it all turns to blah, blah, blah .
The nun locks her sparkling, enthusiastic eyes onto his.
Bitch.
“She’s going to need some work to make her road worthy,” Rex says. “I can do the body work once I get her to L.A., but she’s not going anywhere without a patch to her radiator.”
“Father can help you with that. He’s very handy.”
All the while they’ve been talking, the nun has been leading us along the walkway. We pass doors with metal straps holding the wide wooden slats in place. The doors look like they belong in an Old West fort. Howdy, Sheriff. Right nice weather we’re having.
We pass one with its door ajar. Inside there’s a tiny wooden bed and a roughhewn stand holding a ceramic pot. A chamber pot! What the fuck. The tiny room looks as though it should be behind glass in a museum, like letters from Buffalo Bill might be in the drawers of the writing desk.
A hunky-looking version of Jesus on the cross hangs crooked on the wall like some lonely little nun has hastily replaced it. Fuck me, Jesus , I can’t stop myself from thinking. Chances are I’m going to hell anyway. If there is such a thing.
Harvey grips my hand and clutches my leg. It makes walking difficult, but I don’t shake him off. I think about it though. Baldy slinks along with us. He growls at everything. The dog does not seem to like it here. The boy doesn’t seem all that thrilled either. He’s a weird kid. He’s not interested in anything. He just keeps his eyes focused straight ahead.
“Are you the only one here?” I ask, because what the hell is she doing out here in the middle of nowhere. This place is seriously weird.
“Father and I are caretakers for the mission.”
Something’s not right but I can’t say what it is. I’ve got this feeling that’s making the hair on the back of my neck prickle.
Maybe they’ve got a phone. Or, I don’t know, a telegraph machine. What’s the Morse code for SOS? Ha! Save Our Souls. That’s a good one.
“Where is your father?” I ask. He’s probably not her father, I think, as soon as the words leave my mouth. But who knows, maybe he is.
Rex shoots me a look like I’m being rude.
I guess maybe I did use a little bit of tone. Freckles, the cheerful nun, doesn’t seem to mind.
“Father’s gone down to the well. He should be back before long. I’m sure he heard the bell. Are you hungry? I’ve prepared a meal. It’s extra yummy.” Freckles smiles and gestures to an open door.
A single fly, bigger than an ordinary housefly, zooms and swoops through the doorway.
The nun narrows her eyes and looks at Harvey as she reaches into the folds of her habit in the general area where a pocket might be and takes out something that looks like a rolled-up newspaper.
Fuck.
They get newspapers.
“Father always comes when he hears the bell.” She gives me one of those looks mean girls give when teachers or their parents are around. Or maybe it’s not that kind of look at all, but something about it makes me edgy.
She swats at a fly.
As soon as she swats one, there are more. They perch on the doorjamb, the lips of the flower boxes and every surface they can find. The nun’s swatting only stirs them up. They’re bigger than any flies I’ve ever seen. I’ll bet their maggots are seriously
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