SAINTS DON’T MOAN

Chapter 19

Penelope

“Great work today, sister,” Laura, the nurse Miguel had just been flirting with, said to me but my eyes were not on her, they were on Miguel’s departing figure. He looked like he was in a hurry and naturally, I assumed he had been paged for another medical emergency.

“Did Dr Ramirez mention where he is going to?” I asked the nurse.

A frown crossed her face but she masked it with a smile, “no. Is there a reason you ask?”

No one here knew that I was living with Miguel. It would be scandalous if anyone were to find out so I waved the question off casually, “I was just wondering what time I ought to leave. I like to spend my evenings praying.”

That was a good lie.

The nurse’s smile widened, “of course, sister. Especially after a tragedy like today occured.”

I nodded.

“Yes, yes.”

I looked at the nurse’s face and it looked even purer than my mind was. If only she could see the inside of my mind and realise that I was not thinking of prayer, nor were there any holy thoughts in mind. I had spent all day thinking about Miguel as his cologne lingered in my nostrils.

“You should go now,” Laura said, “We’ll be just fine on our own.”

“I’ll stay around till Mi… Dr Ramirez finishes here,” I said, “there is something I must discuss with him.”

“In that case,” she said, “do you mind helping a child home?”

“A child?”

“One of the students from earlier…” she began, “his mother works in a bookshop nearby but she cannot get off work. Would you mind dropping him off?”

I flushed, “show me the child.”

She led me to the waiting room prepared for children and I saw a sour faced child seated in the corner just staring into oblivion. His eyes looked dead sort of, like his soul had escaped into another world mere mortals were not privy to. I approached him cautiously because I did not wish to startle him.

“Hello?” my voice was soft as I knelt in front of him.

He spared me a glance and nothing more. I turned back to look at the nurse, wondering if he had received all the medical checkups he needed.

“Was he checked?” I asked her.

“Yes,” came the nurse’s prompt response, “his name is Rodney. He’s autistic.”

I said an ‘oooh’ in my mind. It would explain the way he spaced out like no one else existed in the room.

“Hi Rodney,” I kept my voice soft, not wishing to overstimulate the child.

He blinked his eyes severally before focusing his gaze on me, “hi.”

“Sister Penelope will take you to the bookshop, okay?” the nurse said.

Rodney looked at me like he was processing this piece of information.

“Okay.”

Laura looked surprised that the child had agreed so quickly.

“How far is the bookstore from here?” I asked Laura.

“It’s just two blocks away,” was her response.

“I’ll show you,” Rodney said, standing up. He walked to the door, his motion similar to that of a robot.

I looked over at Laura who had a smile on her face as she watched the child, “Rodney is a good kid. He’s quite low on the spectrum. He doesn’t cause any trouble for anyone.”

I nodded. That was good to know.

I loved being around children but I did not have much experience when it came to children with special needs like autism.

The second I stepped out of the hospital with Rodney, the cool spring evening breeze swooshed past my face. I inhaled deeply, enjoying the moist scent of pine and sea that the wind carried.

“It’s going to rain,” Rodney’s voice broke my thoughts.

I looked at the clouds and begged to differ.

“I don’t think so,” I commented.

“It’s going to rain,” he said again, his voice like a broken record.

I decided it was wise not to argue with the child.

After all, he may be right.

“Then we better hurry,” I said to him, taking a step forward.

I felt a small hand grip my arm, “that’s the wrong direction.”

“Ahhh.”

I followed Rodney quietly. I was usually great with kids but surprisingly I did not know what to say to Rodney. Just when I thought it could not get any quieter between us, Rodney suddenly said, “I like baseball.”

I looked at him, “so you play?”

He shook his head.

“They won’t let me,” he stated.

“Why not?” I asked him.

“We’re here,” he said. I looked up and saw a small book store with a small woman standing tiredly in front of it.

“Rodney’s mom?” I asked the woman.

She looked up and smiled tiredly. I could see the deeply set frown lines around her eyes and lips. I could tell they were not from aging because she still looked rather young but from exhaustion.

“I’m Penelope,” I introduced myself with a smile as Rodney walked right into the bookshop not even stopping to greet his mother.

“I’m Lillian,” the woman said, “thank you for bringing Rodney home.”

I smiled, amused by how she could trust a complete stranger.

“It was no problem,” I said, “Rodney is a good kid.”

As though he could hear his name being called, Rodney stepped out of the bookstore and stared at me dead in the eye, “it’s going to rain heavily. You should head back now.”

Then he turned and left.

His mother chuckled nervously, “please don’t be offended but he is usually right about the weather though. I would invite you for tea next time.”

I bowed politely and turned to leave.

The distance between the bookstore and the clinic was rather short so I got back very quickly. As I approached the hospital, I saw Laura smoking under a Juniper tree. She put away the cigarette and stomped her feet on it when she saw me get closer. There was no judgement from me, only a buried longing for a smoke. I had given up smoking after the accident.

“You didn’t have to put it away for me,” I told her with a smile. I wanted her to know that I was not one of those stuck up nuns who judged people so easily.

Laura flushed like she was embarrassed that I had caught her smoking, “I’m actually trying to quit.”

“It’s not an easy road,” I sighed.

She arched an eyebrow, “did you smoke before?”

With a smile, I replied, “yes.”

Her eyes lit up, “I did.”

“Lillian okay?” She changed the topic.

“Yes,” I said, “but she seems tired.”

“Yeah,” Laura shook her head, “she’s really trying.”

It sounded like there was gossip there and while the former me would have pried more, I was trying not to add to my growing pile of sin.

“Which way to Dr Ramirez’s office?” I asked her.

“Dr Ramirez has gone home,” she replied, “his car is not at the hospital.”

So he had left me?

“Dr Ramirez owns one of the most beautiful lake houses here,” she supplied, “it’s right above the bend. It’ll take you thirty minutes on foot but the view is so worth it.”

“Ahh!” I tried not to sound interested, “is there a catholic church nearby?”

“Yes,” she replied, “Dr Ramirez’s house is not very far from it. It’s just a couple blocks away from the church.”

It seemed like she had been to the doctor’s house a good number of times. I tried not to let that knowledge piss me off. I mean… I really should not care because it was none of my business. Yet at the same time, I could not help but wonder just how many of the young women at Oakridge Miguel had entertained in his bed and under his body.

“Thank you, Laura,” was all I could say to her as I began walking in the direction she had described.

I had walked for about ten minutes when the wind began to blow rather violently. Then out of nowhere, the skies darkened. I looked up and felt drops of rain on my face. I turned but the hospital was already so far away. There was no going back. I had to find my way to Miguel’s house under this dreary weather.

I muttered a prayer underneath my breath as I hastened my steps, praying that the rain would not pour heavily until I reached Miguel’s home. But God did not answer the prayers of the unrighteous like me because the rain began to pelt torrentially as I concluded my prayer. It felt like a million tiny stones were being thrown down at me all at once. Within seconds, I was already soaked.

Since God had refused to listen to my prayers to keep the rain at bay, I began to curse the devil, Miguel, because it was all his fault I was in the middle of the road under the bitter clouds.