Page 18 of For I Have Sinned

Word had spread, and students had given her the nickname “Crazy Jesus Lady.” They weren’t wrong, but of course, as we were basically entering our teen years, they were mean to me about it. I was picked on for my whole seventh and eighth grade years because of her.

Luckily, when we all got to high school, they forgot about me and found someone else to taunt. Not that I wished that on anyone, but it was nice not to be under everyone’s radar. All through high school, I stayed quiet and alone because I didn’t want to do anything that would make anyone see me as a target.

And it worked.

But thinking back on those days, more tears threaten to spill as I long for the childhood I should have had, and for all the time I’ll never get back.

Now I’m an adult, but I am still under my parents’ control. I can’t let these years be the same as my childhood ones. I refuse to regret my life because of my mother.

Chapter 7

Celine

Sister Alice leads me into a large room, which she tells me is called the dining hall. It has long tables stretching from the door where we enter to the other end of the room. The tables are covered with a deep red cloth, the same shade as the carpet in the main hallway, and the color stands out against the white dresses of the women who sit at the tables.

This room features stone walls and stained-glass windows, matching the chapel, but instead of angels, there are images of God on two, and I assume, the pearly gates on the other. Although this room is laid out similarly to the chapel, it receives more light because the stained glass windows are flanked by larger windows with standard glass. The ceiling features massive chandeliers with bulbs that resemble candles.

While we walk down the aisle between tables, I feel multiple eyes on me. It makes my skin tingle, like a million ants are marching their way across my body, and suddenly, the light fabric of this cotton dress feels too heavy on me.

Not only am I feeling weighted down by the fabric, but the bra that they provided is too tight, and the wire is digging into my ribs. It is taking everything in me not to pick at the wire to try to relieve the pain, but I endure it.

I’m new, I don’t want to stand out any more than I already am.

Once we reach the backside of the room, a feast is spread out on the long table. Salad, chicken breasts, fresh fruit, yogurt, and pitchers of water and lemonade.

“Here you go,” Sister Alice says, handing me a plate. “Get whatever you like, and don’t worry about getting too much. There is enough for everyone to have more than one helping.”

I grab the tongs to add some salad to my plate. Using another set of utensils, I pick up a piece of chicken, the scent of the marinade and spices filling my nose, making my mouth water. Moving down the line, I scoop some fresh fruit and place it between the chicken and the salad.

“Would you like water or lemonade?” Sister Alice asks sweetly.

“Water is fine.”

With a nod, she fills up a clear plastic cup while I grab a fork and a napkin.

“I will introduce you to some of the women whom you’ll be seeing in your lessons,” she informs me. “You can sit with them and get to know what it is like in the convent. I will also get you a schedule after dinner.”

It’s bad enough being here in the first place, but lessons? I feel like I’m back in school again. And that thought alone almost sends me into a spiral.

The closer we get to the women I will be eating my meal with, the harder my heart begins to beat. My hands become so sweaty that I have to tighten my grip on the plate.

“Ladies,” Sister Alice announces our arrival. “This is Celine Monroe. She is new, and I do hope that you welcome her with warmth and knowledge of our convent.”

Two of the women look up at me, beaming, and I immediately lose my appetite at how happy they seem to be in this place, but I muster up a shy smile and greet them with a hello.

“You can sit next to me,” A blonde says, scooting over and patting the empty spot on the bench. I thank her and set my plate on the table. Sister Alice places my drink beside the plate and says goodbye. “I’m Joanna, and this is Bekah and Esther.”

Joanna gestures to the two women sitting across the table. Bekah sits on the left—shoulder-length auburn hair, piercing blue eyes, and freckles that scatter across every inch of her pale skin.

Esther is the complete opposite, with pitch-black, pin-straight hair that falls to her waist. Her eyes are a deep brown, and her skin is tan and flawless. I smile at each of them before picking up the fork and stabbing a piece of melon.

As I put it in my mouth, Joanna speaks, “We are so happy you are here! It is always exciting when someone new comes in wanting to learn more about their faith.”

I glance over to look into her light-brown eyes, which sparkle with excitement. My stomach churns, but I take a deep breath and lie with a sweet tone. “I’m excited, too.”

“Do you know which lessons you will be taking?” Bekah asks.

“Uhm, no. Sister Alice said she would get me a schedule.”