It’s hard to talk about what happened between Maria and I, but how can I expect to be understood if I don’t?
We had all summer together after she told me her plans. And it was miserable. Everything felt like a last time, everything felt like goodbye. And she spent the whole time being so damn excited that it was.
I finally snapped. I should’ve said “I’m mad because I’m going to miss you, and I don’t know how to process that.” Or “I’ve never had a friend like you and without you I’m going to have to figure out who I am again, and I’m scared.”
Instead, I went with “You know cloisters only exist to get rid of unwanted women who couldn’t find husbands, right? It’s not like God loves you more because you can’t handle being an adult.”
So naturally things escalated directly to screaming and we both left crying. Me sobbing like the ugly crier I’ve been my whole life, and her silently weeping. She’s a pretty crier. Balances out I suppose.
And now here we are again with me pulling together my backpack and feeling her eyes on me. I made coffee and she’s holding a cup but not really drinking it. Maybe it’s too hot? Maybe she’s not a coffee person anymore?
She’s wearing those gloves again.
“So, I’ll be back around three. I uh, I’m gonna see if I can get ahold of Gary – that’s my landlord – in between classes and get things settled for you, okay?”
“I can pay rent.”
“I know, I know, just gotta figure out if he wants to make it like, a sublet situation or have you sign your own contract or, I don’t know? He’s pretty reasonable, we’ll figure it out. Then uhm, I do have homework to do tonight but I’ll be around.”
“Will your Andrew be around?”
My Andrew. I never really thought of him like that. It feels strange to hear. Something about how she says it makes it sound like he’s a pet or possession. But I don’t hate it. And that feels weird. I shake the feeling off, shoving my water bottle in my bag.
“No, no, he helps with a youth group at the local parish on Mondays. Holy Assumption. He actually just got back from a retreat for the youth leaders yesterday.”
“So, he’s Catholic.”
“Ohhh, yeah. Like, you know how Catholic we were in high school? He’s at least that Catholic. Maybe more.”
“And what about you?”
“Oh, yes, of course! Obviously! Not even a question!” I sling my bag onto my back. “Sorry, it’d be like me asking you if you’re Catholic!”
Maria doesn’t answer, just looking at me for a moment. I can’t read her like I used to. I miss it.
“Well, I’m glad you found a man who understands you.” She sets her mug down and stands. She’s wearing the same outfit as yesterday, just with a sweater rather than her coat. I should ask if she needs clothes.
“Be safe.”
“Thanks? Help yourself to anything in the fridge – see you soon.” I say and I’m on my way.
First stop is Campus ministry. They do confessions on Monday mornings. Short line, kneel down behind the screen, own up to a few sins, an absolution, three hail marys.
Classes. Being a senior has definitely been the strangest year of college. All my classes are for my major in environmental conservation. And I only have four (well, I’d call it three and a half since one is the lab for another, but I digress). The scholarship I bagged for doing an unpaid internship the last two summers and a Christmas break for good measure is paying for everything, so I don’t work. And yet I feel like I’m drowning in shit to get done.
Two months left. Then it’s all over.
Two morning classes. Lunch, technically with my friend Sophie but we’re both doing readings. Besides, I don’t know what I’d even say to her right now. I can’t talk about Maria yet. But also, how on earth am I supposed to talk about anything else?
My phone vibrates. I check it.
Oh fuck, Andrew. I didn’t text Andrew back this morning.
Good Morning.
Hey, I’m just checking in. Did you go to class?
Hi!! Yes I did. Sorry, crazy morning lol
I’m sure. Are the two of you alright?
Yeah we’re good. She’s at the apartment
Gonna catch Gary later
He responds with a thumbs up. I roll my eyes.
“Andrew?” Sophie asks.
“How’d you guess?” I say.
“The smiling while also rolling your eyes. Who else but a man could annoy you so endearingly?” Sophie points out.
“He texts like a dad.”
“Maybe that’s a green flag?”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Yeah, maybe.”
Got to get back to it. Wanna call when you’re done at youth group tonight?
Maybe. I was hoping to talk to Fr. James for a bit.
Okay no worries! I love you!
I love you too.
<3 :)
----------------------------------------
Gary picks up right away when I call him after my last class. I decide to go with telling him an old friend is looking to move into town and needs to stay somewhere until the summer and wants to rent the room sight unseen. He jumps on it. Like I said, he’d been struggling to find anyone who wanted it so me handing him a new tenant is hardly something to turn his nose up at.
We make plans for him to come by the next afternoon to settle paperwork with Maria.
“Maria? I’m back…” the apartment is pitch black. The curtains aren’t good enough for that. I fumble for the light switch.
The apartment is spotless. I’m hardly a slob but also it’s not like I’m scrubbing the floors every day. But now they’re reflecting the light. The dishes are more than done; the whole kitchen is stunning. I step in further and see the living room. Was my couch always that shade of gray (concerning)? I remember to take my shoes off before stepping from the linoleum onto the carpet and it’s soft. I can’t even hear my footsteps as I step into the living room and look around, hitting another light switch.
Unfamiliar black curtains hang over the windows. There are deep red roses on the (shining, perfectly clean) coffee table. They’re filling the room with a gentle floral scent.
It smells like my mom’s funeral. Damn, why does it smell like mom’s funeral?
“Violet? Are you alright?” I hadn’t heard Maria come down the hall.
“Ugh, yeah, fine, my contacts are just dry.” I do my best to wipe my face and act alright, but she doesn’t buy it. She knows better. Some things don’t change I suppose.
“Violet, did I do something wrong? I tried to freshen stuff up today if I messed with something I shouldn’t have—”
“—no! are you kidding? The place looks great I just…” How am I supposed to say this? Telling people at school hurt but wasn’t hard, not really. Not even Andrew. I suppose I didn’t tell Andrew because he was there with me when she went (well, he was in the hallway, trying not to crowd the family). But Maria? Maria knew her. Maria rode in her car, ate her food, laughed at her jokes, and dug holes for her flower garden and cried to her and complained to her and apologized to her and loved her. And mom loved Maria.
“It’s like having twins without needing to give birth twice!” She’d say about us. She listened when I told her Maria, and I had our big fight, but I could tell I’d hurt her.
I caught a glimpse at the last Christmas break we had together while mom was well enough to write Christmas cards of one addressed to Maria, care of her convent.
And now I have to tell her she’s gone.
I can’t help it; I hug her tightly. She smells just like I remember – like Cedar and Lilly. Can nuns wear perfume?
“Mom is gone…mom died. I don’t know if anyone would have told you. I’m so sorry.” I whisper.
“Your father told me. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” She murmurs back. “Are you alright?”
“The flowers – she had those, at the funeral?”
“Ah.”
“I miss her.”
“I miss her too,” Maria says. “…There was a purple altar cloth we used during advent that I’d sometimes space out and imagine sewing into a dress for her. A sundress.”
“Dad kept her big hat. We turned it into a wreath for Easter.”
Maria sighs. “Oh good. I can’t imagine it…it being somewhere besides her home. Except maybe with you.”
“Oh, she’d get a kick out of that, of me wearing that hat after making fun of it so much.”
“Funny how you always got a sunburn whenever you made fun of it,” Maria comments.
I laugh through my tears.
“I wish I had seen her again,” Maria says.
“Hey, no one lives forever, right?”
“Some people deserve to,” she whispers, and I wonder if I was supposed to hear it. She was always good for an odd comment – sometimes quirky or funny, sometimes downright weird – but feels so sincere and so personal, almost intimate.
“So!” I pull back, wiping my eyes and doing my best to smile. “Landlord’s gonna be by tomorrow, and I’ve got homework. And I’ve got a little extra cash on hand, want to order in?
“I got groceries actually.”
“I was gone like six hours and you shopped and cleaned everything?”
“Well, I got the groceries delivered.”
“Oh, that makes more – no wait! Do you have a phone?” I ask. Maria shrugs.
“They were very…pragmatic about my situation. If I’m going to be out in the world for a while, I need a smartphone. It’s not a particularly new one, but it can handle a delivery app.”
“Yeah, I suppose that makes sense.” At least, it made as much sense as her entire situation seemed to make.
“So then, I’ll cook. You can study,” Maria says and with that turns to the kitchen. I take the moment to watch her go. When did she get so graceful?
“If you need help –”
“—that depends! Are you done with your homework already? Speedier than you were in high school, aren’t you?”
My laughing comes out as an indignant squawk, but I do turn to my work. It’s easier than normal. The dark curtains mean the lights are all on and they make the room feel soft and cozy, and with my tears cried, the scent of the roses feels more comforting than anything else. Soon, I can smell dinner cooking and Maria singing old hymns. I hum along when I recognize the tunes. I feel like I’m at home in a way I haven’t been for years. In a way I thought I would never be again. Sure, I have plans and hopes. Goals of starting my own family; making my own, warm, comforting home. But being given it all instead of being the crafter of it is different. And for a few hours, it’s exactly what I want.
I’ll always cherish the times I could still feel warm.
----------------------------------------
Maria makes soup with large dense dumplings that float along the top. It’s packed with vegetables and is so incredibly filling.
“Please tell me there’s leftovers,” I say to her.
“At least enough for your lunch tomorrow,” she replies.
“And yours!” I put my empty bowl down on the coffee table. I don’t have a regular table – I don’t have a place to put one. Again, the pros of this apartment are very strong.
“I’m not used to eating lunch much anymore.” Maria shrugs as she stands and clears away the bowls.
“Wait, why not? Do nuns not eat lunch?” I ask, following her.
“Not most of us. We ate well at other times,” Maria explains. I take the bowls and start washing up.
“Well, as long as you’re getting enough – you didn’t eat much tonight and I just…you got enough, right?”
“I’m fine, Violet. I’ve had enough soup,” Maria says.
“As long as you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” She smiles that thin, closed lipped smile and I decide to let it go. She’s a grown person, after all. She can take care of herself. And me besides.
“I’m probably going to try to finish up my paper then call it for the night – are you going to be up much yet?”
“Most likely. I frequently had things to do in the evenings at the convent so I’m used to being up very late.”
“Fair enough.” I turn off the water and dry my hands. “Thanks again for dinner, Maria. That was amazing.”
“I’m happy to do it again. Whenever you’d like.”
“Oh, don’t say that I’ll ask every night.” I laugh. Maria laughs with me but then puts a gloved hand on my arm and my gaze goes from that dark glove up her arm and finally to her eyes and it becomes impossible to look away. Can eyes be so dark you can’t see a reflection in them? Looking at her feels like being outside on a warm summer night, every star is visible, and you know you are miniscule in the universe, and you shiver but not from the cold.
“Then I’ll make dinner every night,” Maria murmurs and then looks away and walks out of the kitchen. I shake my head – what was I thinking about? The stars?
I must be tired. Hopefully, I can make it through this paper.
I don’t remember falling asleep the first time but I wake up in the middle of the night with my stuff strewn across my bed. I take a moment to shove it all onto the side table and turn off my lamp. As I do I see…something move across my window. But sleep wins out before I can figure out if it was just a shadow or something more.