Sister Lucy's Departure.
Terry Collett

 

Sister Teresa kneels in the choir stall after Compline. She can still hear the bell for the angelus ringing in her ears. Just an hour ago, she muses, just an hour ago, she was there in front of me, awaiting my embrace and kiss for her leave taking, as all the sisters who were there outside the refectory had done. Only I wanted to give her more than a brief embrace and kiss on the cheek. She knew, too, but what could we do? Off to Rome. For how long? She didn’t know. Couldn’t say. Sister Lucy off to Rome, Sister Ambrose had said proudly one afternoon three weeks ago in the recreation room as they sat knitting, reading, or other such things in common. Off to Rome? the sisters had said. But none had felt it like she and Lucy had. A sword in the breast more like. Lucy had wept. But what could she do? How long was it to be? she had asked Mother Abbess. Who knows my child, Mother had replied. No way of it putting off. No way out. The Lord calls; the lord sends, mother had said softly, yet firmly. Wept both of us very much those few precious moments alone. There are only three of us left in the church now, Sister Teresa tells herself, looking up briefly and glancing opposite at the two sisters on their knees. Young Sister Maria looks almost purity itself, Sister Teresa muses as she looks at the young nun, eyes closed, stiff and upright in her white habit. And old Sister Bonaventure, so rumour, yes, rumour, even here there are rumours, has it, like to be the last in church after Compline so she can lock the church door behind her. But what do they feel about Sister Lucy? Sister Teresa asks herself, lowering her eyes and moving her knees briefly to stop the numbness coming, as it does after awhile. Just an hour ago. We had waited for that moment. Dreaded it even. Now it’s gone. And by the morning, she’ll be off to the airport and away. Sister Teresa moves forward; touches the floor with her right hand to steady herself. God, how long do you require Lucy? Couldn’t you have called some other sister? No, sorry Lord, that’s not my place to ask. It’s just that it pains me so much her going. Pains very much her going away. Pains us both, Lucy and me, her having to go to Rome. No more seeing her in choir in the mornings or evenings or other times of the Office. No more in the refectory or in the cloister to see her smiling face. To have to face all that without her being there is just unthinkable, but now a fact. But maybe if I get up early and wait by the cloister, I may just catch a glimpse as she leaves. But what good will that do? Can’t break the Grand Silence and say goodbye. And what would Sister Thomas say, who, no doubt, will be the one to drive Lucy to the airport? Just a glimpse. Just a last glance from each to each. Maybe a final smile. Sister Maria rises from her knees, and moving slowly, goes out into the aisle, genuflecting to the altar. Saying goodnight to Our Lord, Sister Teresa muses sadly, as she watches the young nun walk slowly down towards the lower door. Which leaves just Sister Bonaventure and me, Sister Teresa tells herself, glancing quickly over to the old nun who kneels motionless with her eyes closed as if asleep or dead. Just over an hour ago now. Should have said whatever I wanted in a low whisper, but I didn’t, just kissed her and embraced her as the others did, as if it meant no more than another sister going to Rome. To Rome. And she sees in her mind’s eye, Sister Lucy a few feet away on her side of the choir. A few feet away. Could almost touch her. But it is all in the mind. This is where she will remain until she returns some years hence. Years? How can we bear years? Months would have been bad enough…Weeks, days, hours. God. I shall not stand it here without her. Her tall slim figure gliding here and there. Her pale-blue eyes glancing at me in choir. Here. Looking up she sees the old nun sit back on her choir seat. Silent and now motionless. Perhaps I had better go, leave old Sister Bonaventure to her task. I wonder if she ever felt about another sister as I do about Lucy? Doubt it. No probably not. And watching the old nun open her eyes, Sister Teresa rises from her knees and moves out into the aisle. Lord, if only it wasn’t Lucy. Someone else. Some other nun. She moves towards the door. At the end of the aisle, she turns and looks down towards the altar. The old nun moves up and turns off the lights one by one. Darkness gradually follows her. Sister Teresa turns, goes out the door, up the steps, and into the cloister. Stillness and a chill in the air. Moving to the edge of the cloister, she looks up at the night sky. Moon and stars bright tonight, she thinks sadly, letting her hand brush against the wall. Over there in that cell, she whispers and gestures with her head and finger, Lucy sleeps perhaps or waits unable to sleep. Dreams or thinks of me maybe? she whispers again now. Hush now or Sister Bonaventure will creep behind you and think you’re out of your head, Sister Teresa muses darkly. Moving slowly along the cloister, she watches the cell as if it were the center of the universe. A slim, barely seen slither of light seeps through the wooden shutters of the cell. She is awake still, Sister Teresa mutters to herself inwardly. Awake and waiting. Should I go and see? Spirit within is weak. Lack courage. Moving along the cloister, she senses the old nun behind her. Old eyes, lowered head unturning, the old nun passes. As if I should not be here. I should be long in my cell by now. Normally I would no doubt. Lucy I am here, she mouths to the cell. I am here, Lucy, she whispers. She stops, stares, and waits. Why? she asks. For what? For what? Along the cloister again, she moves as if in a dream. Up the cold stone stairs to the upper building. We met here that first time, Sister Teresa remembers, standing still briefly, as the memory lingers. Yes, here, she says to her inmost being. Here we stood, and for a few moments were wordless and just smiled. What it was captured us we never could tell. Didn’t know. Just felt it. Knew only that. She sighs and feels like weeping. But braces herself. We first kissed where? she asks herself, climbing the stairs slowly. Remembering now, she smiles through tears. Yes, the stairs leading down to the crypt. One evening. Darkness about them. Briefly, lips together in the darkness met. Remembers now. Wants to weep. Loudly. Yes, so that all the whole community will know. But she doesn’t. She weeps quietly and to herself. The landing where Sister Lucy’s cell is. Mine down further passed hers. Should I just knock and say a last farewell? Just a few seconds? Knock? She moves to the cell door and stands looking at it. Her hand forms a small fist and she lingers over the wooden panels. But her nerves give way and she moves back. What will she say? What will Sister Lucy say? she asks inwardly. What if she’s asleep? Needs her rest for tomorrow. She moves to the door again and lifts her fist. She numbs and begins to shake. Her fist skims the surface of the wooden panels. She barely feels the wood. Touches it gently with her palm now. Places it on the wooden panels and smoothes it downwards. I am here, she mouths to the woodenness of the door. She lets her head rest against the panels. Her eyes close. If only thoughts could speak instead of lips, she thinks and mouths again the words: Lucy I am here. But no one comes; the door remains closed. Opens her eyes. Tears blind her now. She sees nothing but a blur of watery shapes. Raises her hand again and lets it brush against the woodenness once more. Clenches her hand tight and forms a fist. Raises it over the wooden panels and taps gently a Morse code of sorts. Movement on the other side of the door freezes her. Sister Teresa moves away, stands shaking. The door latch rises and Sister Lucy opens the door slowly. She looks and stares at a shaking, pale-faced, Sister Teresa. Gesturing with her hand she beckons the shaking sister inwards. Closes the door and the passageway is empty once more. Together they stand, each looking at the other in silence. No words. Just eyes looking and seeking answers. Sister Teresa wants to say what her heart screams out inside to say, but says nothing. Sister Lucy, tall and slim of frame, tries to say, but words won’t come. Dumbness holds them both. Putting out a hand, Sister Teresa attempts to touch, but then pulls back her hand and hides it in her habit. The other watches and lifts her hands outwardly as if to share all that she has which is all that there is to see. Her eyes move from the other’s face to her hands hidden. Sister Lucy walks over to the table and picking up a pencil writes on a torn piece of paper, what is it you want of me? The other nun stares at the message. Then taking the pencil from the other’s hand writes: I want to say a last farewell. Their eyes meet. A smile appears on Sister Lucy’s lips. She opens her arms and gestures for the other to come. Sister Teresa wipes her eyes with her hand. She enters the embrace and sinks into the arms. Senses herself being held tightly and then feels a kiss on her cheek and lifts her head and sees, through a slightly blurred vision, the smile she thought she’d not see again. She closes her eyes. All is silent. Emptiness about her. And when she opens her eyes, she is standing outside the door with her fist raised. The door is closed. The woodenness appears hard. Have I dreamt all that? she asks herself, tearfully letting her fist brush against the surface. No kiss. No embrace. No message. Just then, the door opens and Sister Lucy stands, tall and slim, in silence. Her eyes scan about her and then settle on Sister Teresa. She stares and mouths words that do not come. She moves out her hand and feels for the other’s hand. Touching. Feeling. Mouths again words. Gestures with her hands. The sisters enter the cell together in silence. They embrace and kiss. The light becomes darkness. The passageway is still and empty. To Rome. Sister Lucy. And who knows if she will. Tomorrow is another day.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2000 Terry Collett
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"