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I didn’t even know my age.
I was given to the church so young I couldn’t make a choice to leave and they didn’t even bother to ask my age, they just dressed me in the proper attire and handed me over to the freshly welcomed Sisters of the Church. I was filled with anger and confusion for a long time before I finally let God into my life- or at least, I found it bearable with Sister Rose around.
Sister Rose was the only person I could depend on as a window into the world. She was drawn to the church in her 20s and devoted herself to the protectors of the cabinet that held a demon that could destroy the world. It sounds quite heroic and it is but I think she was really impressive for her ability to always find a way to lead me back to the path of faith and patience.
For instance, I couldn’t stand the Monks who barely acknowledged the Sisters with the exception of nodding toward their plates after their meals. Is this what God meant by his plan? For me and the Sisters to clean after the Monks until the end of our lives? Despite God’s plan, I felt too crooked to fit his big puzzle, as if he was trying to bend me till I snapped. Day after day, the silence was so loud, I just wanted to scream so that maybe the world would get what it deserved.
These were only thoughts however until one late night when the Monks drank more than they were supposed to. They stumbled back to their chambers, and the idea was too tempting this time. If I acted fast enough, I could find what Sister Rose told me was a calendar, she said they number time into sections of days and if I ever saw one, I might finally know my age.
It was foolish, I didn’t even know how to read one but the thought of filling up this empty space in my chest was enough to lead me up the cold stone stairs and down dark lonely corridors.
I paused often to listen to footsteps and stepped quietly in the hallways that not many of the Sisters were even allowed to see through cracked doors.
A cellar door creaked down the hall and in panic, I quietly rushed to turn into another hallway protecting myself from a Monk’s line of vision. Quickly, I adjusted the lantern’s light to hide myself in the shadows. I held her breath, hoping that if I got caught, the least I could do was stifle a noise of surprise. However a soft shuffle leaving down the hallway then the gentle shut of a door encouraged a sigh of relief. Slacking my shoulders and staring at the barley visible light pouring from the yellow lantern, I peaked once more and the hall was empty once again.
With a quiet smile, I rushed down the hallway and kept repeating the numbers in my head ‘Twee, vier, drie. Twee, vier, drie. Twee, vier, drie.’ Level. Hallway. Door. That’s the computer room.
Sister Rose is the only Sister allowed in these rooms. She says she saw it when she cleaned gathering dust on the “keyboard” and described it as a ‘big white block that held all the answers in the world’. Sister Rose wasn’t very fond of the block however as she cautiously tapped the buttons on the plastic piece chained to the computer but it stubbornly kept a blank face.
“It’s a tale is all” she signed to me who hung onto every motion with a burning curiosity, “When I was a little girl, I remember these small sticks that beeped, the older people called it the future but I will never understand them. If God blessed us thousands of years into the future with the gift of communication on a face of a stick then why would God let us access the entire world with several buttons only a couple years later?’
I like to jokingly sign back that I doubt sister Rose’s dedication to God at times like these when she questions his plan. Honestly, I’m starting to understand it, God works in mysterious ways, which also leads me to believe that the urge to break the rules is also part of his plan. Why else would he poison me with this harmless temptation if it wasn’t a reason for something greater?
I’m finally standing at the door to the computer room and I wrap my robes around the handle. Wincing at the persistent squeak the door handle gives before quickly rushing into the dark room and slowly shutting the heavy door. A cold blue light reminding me of the sky earlier today rests on my hands holding the door.
I slowly turn towards the dim light which reveals the block of the world.
The block of answers.
I cover my mouth so as not to excitedly gasp and reveal my presence in the room to anyone outside. The small boxes on the table connected to the computer are the key to the answers I want but they’re in English. ‘A?’ I touch the block but nothing happens, I press down then it makes a click that startles me. Another key then another but there’s nothing appearing on the face of the block, no colors, no words. Inspecting the areas around the computer, I find a slick white slab that also leads to the computer, as I move to pick it up a white spear appears on the face and moves with the block’s movements. The pressing down achieves another click and the square it rests upon opens to a different face.
‘This is so confusing, maybe I truly wasn’t meant to be here.’ Aimless clicking on objects and colors then in blind hope, I close my eyes to let God’s hand lead me to where I should be. I click and open my eyes to find a circle and numbers surrounding it. A clock? The corner of the screen is filled with numbers. A calendar! I see a word above the number which could help me but I don’t know how to sign Sister Rose what exactly I see.
Searching once again around the area for a sign, I see at the bottom of a brown box next to me are the writing pads the Monks give to visitors, so I gently pick it up and crudely scribble the box, words, and numbers on the white block’s face.
My face falls as I turn to the door once more. ‘This is a challenge Fenna. You found the calendar and you weren’t caught despite the odds, this has to be a sign I’m doing something right.’ A quick look at the pad I hold in my hands produces a shake of my head. If I leave unfound I can leave empty handed or I can leave with answers. Despite this, they will still notice the pad missing, it’s only a matter of time before I get caught. ‘Would God put me at this risk if I was really meant to do this?’ With a defeated look I turn back towards the boxes and set down the pad.
The night is noisy again when I finally find myself outside. I pull my blanket a little tighter around me and let the lamp hang from my fingers that protrude just enough to light my way back into my chambers. Once inside, I let the door shut softly before setting my blanket to the side and revealing the writing pad in my hands. ‘I hope this was the right choice, even if it benefited me before the Church. Forgive me if I have disappointed you, Father.’ I silently motion a cross before me and pick up the lantern once more.
The cold still seeps through these old walls so I don’t have to be afraid of my footsteps down the dark hallways. I allow the door to Sister Rose and I’s room to drag out a low sound as it opens and closes. Sister Rose turns on the thin spread of the cover we share. Sister Rose squints in the dark and I allow the lamp I’m holding to shine a bit brighter before setting it down at the side of the bed and crouching at Sister Rose’s level.
A toothy smile breaks across my face and Sister Rose removes the gag in her mouth and sighs to herself. “Did you miss me?” I Sign quickly, “Sorry to have woken you up-”.
Sister Rose tiredly captures my hands in hers and sits up. “Silly girl, I know you too well.” She blinks slowly and looks at me before mirroring a thin smile and signing again. “Besides, it’s too cold at night without you to not notice your absence. Don’t feel discouraged however, unlike your other Sisters, your mischief keeps me young.”
I throw my head back and cover my mouth with a hand so as to not laugh, when I look back, Sister Rose is fully awake but now pained with a concerned look as she stares at the pad set down beside me. I panic and my hands are seizing up with empty answers.
Sister Rose grabs the pad and stares, a soft look of realization. She sets the pad beside her and signs, “It’s 2018 already. You want to know my age don’t you? So that you might know yours?”
I furrow my brows and nod slowly, finally standing up to sit next to Sister Rose on the bed. “How old are you, then?” I sign slowly.
“52.”
“Do you remember the year I arrived?”
Sister Rose hesitates and signs back, “maybe when I was 41? You were 10 at the time if I remember, which means you’re-”
Excitedly, I jump up from the creaky surface and sign “19! I’m 19!” I can’t believe all these years have come to a simple number that releases me from the confusion that’s clouded my faith for years. A piece of my identity is found, finally.
I turn back to Sister Rose and point to the writing pad once again giving her a troublesome smile. “We’re up anyway so I suppose while we have the sketchbook you could tell me about the people outside. You could draw me what it looked like.” I signed.
Sister Rose cringes with a look of doubt but a few seconds of my pleading face forces a squint then a sigh of defeat. She pats the bed and I quickly sit down.
“Like I said, you keep me young, don't you? I feel like a little girl breaking the rules to stay up in the dark with friends at a sleepover.” Sister Rose signs then faces a confused smile on my face. “Well, I guess you have a lot to learn tonight, don’t you?” I bashfully nod and try to push the impending feeling of regret I’ll face when the Monks notice the pad is missing.
It’s been 3 years since then.
Sister Rose has passed now. I still think about that night, how breaking the rules was the first time I truly felt alive. It was a sinking revelation to realize that defying God was a unique happiness, a type of happiness I could never recreate with his eyes over my shoulder, and the fear of his strike leading my actions. The happiness dissipated completely however, without Sister Rose.
The bed was cold next to me now. Her robes are absent next to mine. The only memory I have left of her is the pad I hid under the wood so that none of the other sisters might find it except me. Me and Sister Rose.
It’s no secret that the other Sisters weren’t as fond of me as she was but they understood grief so they left me in bed for months, covering for my work. Until the day the guests arrived.
Sister Beatrice gently touched my shoulder and turned me to face her. “The guests have arrived, we need you to help clear our work so we can better attend to their needs.” She signed.
Of course, They came to gape at the holes in my hands, which appeared just days after Sister Rose’s passing. They must be busy to have let me wallow in my pain for so long.
I close my eyes tight and let the thoughts leave me so that I might respond to Sister Beatrice.
I nod finally and sign a request for my tasks. “Bottles.” she replied. I looked away from her before she was done signing and nodded, ‘ that’s the plan, keep me as far away from the guests as possible, heaven knows what they would do if they caught that look on my face; and saw the fire in my eyes that crave for freedom like them.’
I keep thinking back to Sister Rose’s advice about sad days. Keep going. Pray. Talk to someone? These feel impossible. I’m squinting at the light outside as I start to load the bottles into the wheelbarrow the Sisters gave me.
‘The weather is as cloudy as the day I snuck through those halls’ I think bitterly. ‘ God has a sick sense of humor-’ I lose my focus and the bottles in the wheelbarrow tip over. It’s difficult to hold so I’m about to let the barrow fall completely and give up when someone rushes to pick them up for me. The nostalgic feeling of hope crawls up my throat and I see a woman. Not just a woman. It’s beautiful brown hair, a black coat, and a kind smile. My face of confusion turns into a shy smile against my will.
She waves self-consciously and I almost laugh at the ridiculous notion that I’m someone she should be careful interacting with. I bashfully return the wave and a couple of stumbling seconds later, we’re both rushing down the steep path and I feel alive again.
I try to ignore the touch of her hand on my back as we set the bottles down and I quickly push a bucket into her hands. I don’t glance at her as I repeat in my head, ‘for once let me be selfish. Let her stay.’ I think I’m talking to God or maybe I’m trying to convince myself it’s not because she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen and I don’t want her to leave yet. Not before I can show her how I live and hope she sweeps me off my feet and away into the world I used to live in.
At least, that is what I want to believe.
EXTRA CHAPTER (END OF EPISODE)
I’m loosening the bow at my neck and pushing back the white gown that covers my body. Kristen won’t stop looking at me. Is she afraid? Is she disgusted with me? Does she know why my heart is beating so fast I can hear it in my head?
I lift up my covering just enough to show her the bleeding wound under my chest but I don’t understand why I’m so nauseous, it’s the blood I tell myself. But as her hands hover over me, I’m holding my breath and it’s like that night all over again, but it’s different, I’m fond of her in a different way. I want her to touch me?
I think for once God has listened to my prayers because she slowly lifts her hand towards my face and I’m breathing so heavily I think I might scare her. But she’s not scared, she’s the only one who isn’t. And she’s cradling my face in a way I’ve never been touched so I’m tempted to lean in but not before Kristen looks into my eyes and I think, ‘Maybe I never needed God, maybe I just needed the forgiveness of the kindest person in the world.’
Kristen is leaning in and I close my eyes, she’s so beautiful and her lips are ghosting over mine and I think I can die in peace.
A tickle on my forehead wakes me and I’m greeted to a quiet humming. I remember last night she came back when I started screaming. The most painful writhing feeling under my skin drew the exorcist out of his room and I thought it was God’s punishment for my feelings. Both towards him and the growing ones for Kristen. Despite it all, at that moment I didn’t care, because Kristen made me feel more alive than God did for all of my 20 years, and if I were to die at his hand it would be forgiving to die next to an angel like her.
But I survived.
I don’t know what this means.
Kristen is still humming and I feel the motion of a cross on my forehead and it’s decided. Kristen is my savior and I think this is the sign she’s giving me to embracing the Church. I don’t like it but I think it’s time to be selfless for once, and stay to continue my journey with God. Perhaps to find an answer to my feelings for Kristen or maybe even to still process my grief and love. Love. That’s the word.
‘I won’t regret this’ I think ‘because Kristen has given me enough happiness for a lifetime so that I have time to properly explore my faith’.
Okay, maybe I did regret it.
I peered out the doors toward the Sister’s chambers and felt a squeeze at my heart. It still hurts to see her go but I need her to know that I’m always still here if she has a change of mind. So I snuck into the brewery and I walked up to her as bravely as I could muster, handing her the wine we shared when we first met. She smiles and I want to preserve this image of her forever so before she can respond, I turn quickly and return to my room.
I think, ‘May the wine be our writing hidden beneath the bed’ and with a knot in my throat I turn the corner to my room to see Kristen’s shirt neatly placed at the foot of the bed. I gently hold the shirt in front of me and I think Kristen really is an angel, who else sweetens the wine like her? I clutch the cloth to my chest and fall gracefully on the bed behind me, my heart full and my grin wider than it’s ever been.
I think I’m going to be fine.