“Oh my goodness,” she kept saying. “You poor thing.”
It was comforting to hear an adult outside of my family express genuine concern, but at the same time I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was betraying my father.
“That’s horrible,” she said when I’d finished. “What about your mother—wasn’t she home?”
“She was sleeping. But he hits her too.”
“Good heavens.”
“He beats all of us.”
“Listen,” Sister V. said, her voice filled with worry. “How about if I talk to—”
“No, please don’t talk to anybody.”
“Just listen for a minute. If you let me, I can talk to Father Michaels. He’s good with this kind of thing. He can call your father—”
“No! You don’t know my father. If he finds out I spoke to you, he’ll kill me. You gotta promise you won’t say anything to anybody.”
“Okay.” Sister V. leaned back in her seat. “It was just an idea. I won’t say anything.”
“You promise?”
“You have my word.” She held one hand above her head and placed the other over her heart. “Scout’s honor.”
We sat in silence for a few moments. My leg bobbed up down, which I wasn’t aware of until I noticed her glance at my knee.
“Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “I almost forgot! I’ll be right back.”
Sister V. popped out of her chair and stepped into the convent, leaving the thick wooden door halfway open. The scent of incense wafted into the reception area. I leaned to the side to get a better view of the nuns’ living quarters. A long hall just inside the entrance led to a kitchen and, beyond that, a dining room. Everything seemed quiet and private—a club exclusively for women. None of the kids I knew in school had ever been inside the convent; it was the forbidden zone. Catching a look-see through the open door gave me a naughty-boy rush, like copping a peek up a woman’s dress on the subway.