Tiffany Reisz - The Virgin

“This isn’t a joke.”

“It wasn’t even him who did it.” Him. Søren. Although her mother didn’t know that name. She knew him as Father Marcus Stearns. But Elle couldn’t call him Marcus Stearns in case one of the other sisters had heard of him. So “him” it was.

“Do I want to know who did that to you?”

“My friend Kingsley.”

“You have an interesting definition of friend.”

“Maybe a better definition,” Elle said. “It was consensual. You know I like this stuff.”

“And you know I hate that you like it. And I hate him for making you like it.”

“He didn’t make me like it, Mom. And he didn’t rape me. And he didn’t seduce me.”

“You were fifteen when you met him. He groomed you.”

“I was also fifteen when I first tried to get him in bed. I came pre-groomed.” She couldn’t believe they were having this fight again. “If you really thought he was a danger to children, you would have called the bishop. But you know as well as I do that he isn’t.”

“The church has enough scandals. I wasn’t about to create a new one.”

“Two consenting adults shouldn’t be a scandal.”

“Ellie, that man is—”

“Mom, you can hate him if you want to hate him. But at least hate him for the right reasons.”

“Hate him for the right reasons?” Her mother stood up and came over to her. “I thought I was. But you tell me then. What are the right reasons to hate the priest who seduced and beat my daughter?”

“Hate him because I hate him.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Elle asked, meeting her mother’s eyes.

“Because you might stop hating him. And then I would have to stop, too.”

Elle looked away from her mother’s beseeching eyes.

“What did he do to you, baby?” her mother whispered. “What did he do to make you come to me after all this time?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Elle said as they neared a bright white room, no doubt the infirmary or whatever passed for it in this aging edifice.

“You should talk to someone. A professional who can help you.”

“I don’t need counseling. I’m as sane as you are.” If not saner. After all, she wasn’t the one walking around in a wedding dress telling the world Jesus was her husband.

“You could talk to someone here. Sister Margaret is a trained psychologist. And once a week, Father Antonio—”

Elle turned her head and stared at her mother. “You think I’m going to talk to a priest about this?”

“Well...” her mother began. “Perhaps Sister Margaret then.”

If she’d had the energy for it, Elle would have laughed. But she didn’t so she didn’t and in silence they walked into the infirmary.

Her mother left her sitting in a chair while she went to fetch another one of the sisters. Twenty minutes later, a nun who looked about her mother’s age—no more than fifty definitely—entered the infirmary and gave Elle a once-over. Her mother introduced the woman as Sister Aquinas. She wore a white apron over her black habit and her sleeves were pinned up to expose her forearms. Sister Aquinas pointed to a bed behind a white curtain and told Elle to wait there.

“I’ll go check on your room and make sure you have everything you need,” her mother said, taking Elle’s duffel bag from her. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry. You’re in good hands with Sister Aquinas.”

“Okay,” Elle said, too relieved to have a place to stay for the time being to worry about anything much at the moment. “I’ll see you soon.”

Her mother kissed her on the forehead.

“Thank you.” The two words came out of Elle’s mouth entirely of their own volition.

“You’re thanking me?” Her mother sounded utterly baffled.

“Well, you got them to let me stay here. I know we haven’t gotten along the past few years...ten years.”

“Twenty-six years,” her mother said, but she said it kindly.

She paused to laugh. “Okay, twenty-six years. But yeah, I appreciate it, Mom. Sister John, I mean. Sorry.”

Her mother cupped her face and looked her in the eyes.

“Every morning for the past three years I’ve woken up and prayed the same prayer. Do you want to know what that prayer is?”

“What?” Elle asked, even though she was certain she didn’t want to know.

“Dear God, please don’t let today be the day he finally kills her.”

Once more her mother kissed her on the forehead and then hurried away before Elle could say another word.

Something turned in Elle’s heart, turned like a knob on a telescope. For the first time, Elle looked through the eyepiece of her mother’s heart, and now, this moment, the light had come into focus and Elle saw what her mother saw—a daughter she didn’t understand in love with a powerful, dangerous man twice her size who couldn’t make love to her without hurting her first. And every day she feared he would go too far and kill her only child. Every time her mother looked at Elle, that’s what she saw. For one second, Elle saw it, too.

“Behind the curtain,” Sister Aquinas said. “I’ll be right there.”

Dazed by her vision, Elle did as told, walking behind the curtain and sitting numbly on the hospital cot.

Sister Aquinas came around with a towel in her hand. She tossed it on the side table and put her hands on either side of Elle’s neck.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Oh...I’m fine,” Elle said.

“Are you sure about that? Your eyes are bloodshot. Are you on drugs?”

“Nothing illegal. I had some nausea.”

“Have you been vomiting?”

“A few times.”

“Are you pregnant?”

“Not since Monday night.”

Sister Aquinas blinked at her. But it was only one blink, one pause.

“Miscarriage?”

“No.”

“I see.” Sister Aquinas took a long breath. “Surgical or medical?”

“Medical.”

“Miferprex?” Sister Aquinas asked.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“First pills on Monday. Second pill on Wednesday.”

“Today’s Friday,” Sister Aquinas said. “So five days then.” She was speaking to herself. “Have you been to a doctor since Wednesday?”

“No.”

“How severe was the bleeding?”

“Heavy. Very heavy.”

“It’s lighter now?”

“Much.”

“Did you take anything else?” Sister Aquinas pulled out a scope and looked in Elle’s ears.

“Nothing else.”

“They should have given you Tylenol and Compazine.”

“I had a prescription for them,” Elle said. “But I was too sick to go get them filled.”

“You didn’t have anyone to help you? The father?”

“No.”

Sister Aquinas sighed heavily. “It’s times like this I remember why I became a nun.”

Elle laughed. “Because you hate men?”

“No. I never wanted to go through anything alone again.”

“Thank you for being nice about this,” Elle said.

“I’m a doctor. Just because I don’t agree with a certain medical procedure, it doesn’t mean I didn’t learn about it in medical school.”

“You’re a doctor? I thought you were a nun.”

“I’m both. I have some painkillers here. I can give you something for your nausea if you still need it.”

“I think I’m done puking.”

“You’ll probably bleed for a few weeks. That’s normal. But I want you to come back here in a week. We can do a sonogram.”

Elle stared at her wide-eyed.

“You can do that here? You get a lot of knocked-up nuns in here?”

Sister Aquinas smiled. “Kidney stones. I see a lot of those.”

“I see.” Elle rolled back onto the cot while Sister Aquinas prodded her stomach. “I’m going to be okay, aren’t I?”