Page 32 of Bad Habit
“It was peaceful. Safe.” And sister or not, this woman had no right to criticize Mother.
“She pressured you into choosing this life.” Astrid squeezed my hands.
I pulled them back to my lap. “No, she didn’t.”Promise me,Mother had said over and over up to the day she died.Promise me you’ll become a nun.“She didn’t pressure me.”
Aunt Astrid’s lips tightened as if she was trying to hold something inside.
“Did Britt ever tell you about your father? Orourfather?”
“Of course.” I looked down, then shook my head. “No. Not really.”
“I’d like to tell you, if you’ll let me.” She squeezed my hand, and I looked up into her blue eyes, the same eyes as my mother’s, the same eyes as mine.
“Okay. Please. Thank you.”
Letting go of my hand, she settled back in her chair. “Your grandfather was very strict. A harsh man. Very religious. There weren’t many Roman Catholics in Norway, and that’s one of the reasons he decided to emigrate. He thought that here in the US he could keep his family safer, more pious.” She laughed. “He must have been watching TV shows from the 1950s or something.”
I nodded. It wasn’t my grandfather I wanted to hear about. “And my father?”
Astrid blinked. “We’ll get to that later.”
“Then Mother—what was she like as a girl?”
Astrid smiled so warmly. “When we were young, Britt and I were close, so close. She was only seventeen months older than me, you know…” Aunt Astrid’s expression turned wistful, her eyes glassy. “When your mother was a teenager, she went through a wild streak, rebelling against Pappa’s strict rules.”
“What kind of rules?”
“We couldn’t wear makeup, or date boys, or even have girlfriends over to visit.”
“Oh.” Those rules sounded pretty normal.
“When Britt was barely fifteen,” Astrid continued, “Pappa caught her leaving the house wearing lipstick.” Aunt Astrid’s eyes fluttered shut. “He rubbed it off with sandpaper, then beat her with his belt. She had to stay home from school for two weeks to recover.” Her voice caught. “From that day on, he made her kneel on gritty sandpaper for hours every night, praying and doing penance for her sin of vanity.”
Mirrors are windows to pride and vanity. Admiring your image is sinful.Mother’s voice repeated in my head.
“But still she fought back. She kept a tight sweater in her locker at school, a lipstick, and she’d change in the girls’ bathroom.”
“She got caught?” I had trouble thinking of Mother this way. As someone who broke rules, who wore makeup, who was ever as young as fifteen.
“Mamma caught her a few times but kept Britt’s secret, until…”
“What?”
“One night Britt didn’t come home from school. Pappa went looking for her.” Tears were streaming down Aunt Astrid’s face now. She reached across to take both of my hands in hers. “Your mom, she was raped. By at least two boys. They dragged her into the woods behind the school.”
I felt like I was choking. “She shouldn’t have worn that tight sweater.”
“No, Faith. That’s not what I’m saying. Not at all. What happened to Britt, it was terrible, but it could have happened to any girl. It wasn’t her fault.”
“But if she’d listened to her Pappa…”
“No.” Aunt Astrid squeezed my hands. “That’s what she thought, too, but it wasn’t true. Those boys, they didn’t target her because they thought she was easy. They were plain mean, evil, and thought she was a stuck-up little prude. They bragged around school that they tried to fuck some fun into her.” Aunt Astrid’s voice broke.
“How can boys, how can anyone…” I couldn’t form words. I knew about rape. I’d heard horrible warnings from Mother growing up and reports on the news since I’d moved here, but it was hard to imagine such cruelty.
“She was never the same after that. And even after that horrible ordeal, Pappa beat her, blamed her for what happened, and her acts of penance became more extreme. I…” She looked down. “I’ll spare us both the details, but Pappa was cruel.”
Tears rolled over my lips, and I brushed some of them off with the backs of my hands. I’d said my nightly prayers kneeling on sandpaper, too. Until I moved here, I’d thought that was normal. Part of the Catholic faith.
