Page 10 of Bad Habit
Two
Faith
Iadded another peeled potato to Sister Henry’s pile for chopping. Preparing food for the mission’s soup kitchen was one of my favorite daily tasks. The time went quickly, and it was one place where I didn’t feel inadequate. I knew Mother had done her best to raise me in the Catholic faith, but since arriving here I’d been shocked to discover how much of the Catechism she’d either altered or skipped altogether.
She’d done her best. If we’d lived closer to a church, my religious education might have been more complete. Clearly Mother had misremembered a few things, and I still fell back into her ways, even saying the Lord’s Prayer incorrectly when I wasn’t concentrating. I had so much learning to do to catch up to where my fellow postulates would be when I entered my formal training.
Peeling veggies,thatwas solidly in my wheelhouse.
Plus, it gave Sister Henry and me a chance to talk. At thirty-nine, Henry was the nun at the mission closest to my age. Adding another peeled potato to the pile, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the kitchen door was closed.
“Sister Henry, can I ask you something?”
She stopped humming and nudged me with her hip. “Anytime. Always. What’s on your mind?”
My mouth went dry. Almost as dry as it went every time I saw Mac. He’d been helping me with the basketball for two weeks now and, if anything, my wicked thoughts had grown worse. Further proof of my failing. Further proof I needed to confess to Sister Henry.
“There’s something wrong with me.”
“What?” Henry stopped chopping and turned to look me in the eyes. “Are you ill?”
“No, nothing like that.”
The relief in her eyes was clear.
“It’s not physical,” I added. “Well, not entirely physical.” My cheeks flamed, and I furiously scraped the skin off a big potato. When I’d rehearsed this conversation, it had gone more smoothly.
“You can’t say anything to shock me,” Henry said. “I promise.”
I nodded in relief and drew a long breath. “Lately, I’ve had some strange… feelings. My body…”
“Are you sure you’re not sick?”
Maybe Iwassick. But I sensed it wasn’t that simple.
“It’s more of a spiritual issue.” Looking down at the pile of potato peelings, I shook my head. “Lately, I’ve been having these strange feelings, um, here.” I circled the potato over my nether regions.
“Whatkindof feelings?” Henry asked. “Does it burn when you use the toilet?”
“No.” I shook my head. I knew about bladder infections. Mother had had one in the hospital because of the catheter.
“But…” I continued. “It iskind oflike burning. There’s heat, and tightening. And when I’m feeling that way and I go to the bathroom…” I closed my eyes, hoping to hide from my shame. “The first time I rushed to the bathroom, thinking my monthly visitor had arrived early, but the moisture wasn’t blood.”
Sister Henry put her hand over mine and smiled. “Do you know what brought on these feelings?”
I nodded, but shame kept my confession trapped in my throat.
“Were you around a good-looking man? Or thinking about one?”
I dropped the peeler to the floor and turned toward her sharply. “How did you know?”
“Oh, honey.” She took hold of my arm. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Have you really never felt like this before?”
I shook my head, though I realized I wasn’t being totally honest. Once, when I was thirteen, I’d rubbed my inner thigh against the edge of a chair… I raised a damp hand to my flaming cheek. It started by accident, scratching an itch, but before long I’d been straddling the wood, rubbing hard when Mother caught me and explained how wicked I was. I never did it again, and it led to my yearlong vow of silence. But that had beennothingcompared to how I felt around Mac. How I felt now, even thinking about him.
