Almost everyone at the bar was friendly. No one avoided me like they used to at home. I don’t want that to change, so I decide some things are best left unsaid.
I tightly roll my habit and stuff it into the front compartment of my suitcase. I change into my nightgown and walk toward the bathroom to brush my teeth.
This is all so odd. Pulling the bobby pins from my bun, my long brown hair rolls in curls down my back. I brush it out and attempt to style it like Nadia. I turn to the side and pretend I have a clipboard in my hand. I’m not hideous, am I? Would Lucian like me with my hair down?
Staring at myself, I realize I’m being vain. I turn off the light and climb onto the couch. I say a small prayer asking for forgiveness. I wear my hair in a bun to avoid attention. Mom wears her hair like that every single day. In fact, I think I only saw it down one time in my whole life. She is perfect in every way. I remind myself that our bodies don’t make us beautiful. Our souls do. I miss my mom. I wish I could call her, but I know she wouldn’t understand.
I pray for my family, Patti, and for all the nuns at the convent. I even pray for Lucian Kane. Maybe he’s a nice guy after all.
Hitting power on the remote, the TV flicks on. I feel so free to be watching television with permission after three a.m. This is all so new to me. This entire day has been one first after another. I touch the light to turn it off and curl up with the soft blanket. I flip channels hoping to find my favorite show.
When I was younger, I longed to experience life and friendships like I saw on Friends. I used to set an alarm and get up while everyone was sleeping to watch it. That kind of television was off limits for me. I was already different than the other girls at school, and I desperately wanted to fit in in some way, so I used to tell people I had a boyfriend named Joey who lived in New York. No one believed me, but it was such an elaborate story, I still think of him as my first boyfriend. Actually, he was my only boyfriend. Better to have a fictional boyfriend than none at all.
I can’t find Friends on TV, so I settle on a show with several old women bickering. It makes me happy just having the TV on.
The theme song from Golden Girls lulls me to sleep. As much as I want to enjoy this moment, I’m too exhausted to keep my eyes open.
I dream of bearded men. One beard in particular and it doesn’t belong to Jesus.
• • •
“You’re up early.” Patti stretches her arms over her head as she enters the kitchen.
I’ve already showered and put my hair in a bun. I’m used to getting up early at both the convent and the farm. I stir scrambled eggs in a pan. “Was I too loud? Did I wake you?”
“The smell of food woke me, not you.” She opens the fridge and pops open a can of Diet Coke. “I take it you know how to cook?”
I nod. “Don’t you?”
“Hells no. Unless you call microwaving frozen shit, cooking?”
“On the farm it was my job to take care of the chickens, keep the house clean, do laundry, and cook for my family.”
“On the farm, huh? That sounds like an awful lot of work.”
“My parents and my brothers took care of the crops and the animals. I was protected.”
“Protected from what?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Everything. Life. Anything fun.” I scoop some eggs onto a plate and butter some toast, handing it to Patti.
“You made this for me?”
“For both of us. I hope I didn’t overstep.”
“God no. If you want to cook for me every day, I’d love it.” She takes a big bite of eggs and moans. “Did you put cheese in these?”
I nod.
“So fucking good. What time is it anyway?”
“It’s eleven. I can’t believe I slept so long.”
“Really? Down on the farm you’re not allowed to sleep either?” she asks with a twang in her voice and a slight chuckle. I think she may be making fun of me. I make the Sign of the Cross and say a prayer inside my head thanking God for the food.
When I open my eyes, she’s staring. She points at me with her fork. “Are you one of those super religious folks?”
My eyes bulge. “What?” I clear my throat. “Um, what do you mean?”
“You prayed before you ate? Did I offend you by not praying?”
“Not at all. You can do whatever you like. I hope I didn’t offend you by praying. I didn’t ask what faith you practice.”
“I practice yoga and the only time I pray is when I feel the need to beg God for a break. I don’t want to end up stuck working at Miracles for the rest of my life. I’m definitely not a sheltered farm girl like you.”
Biting off a piece of toast, I ponder her answer.
Patti rests her fork on her plate and shakes her head. “I was just joking. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I think it’s cool that you’re so different than me. I’m sure I could learn a lot from you.”
I smile. “Maybe we can learn from each other.”
“So tell me about this virgin shit. You’ve really never had sex?”
Placing my head in my hands, I laugh, remembering our conversation from last night. “Nu-uh.” I take another bite of my eggs.
“What exactly have you done? Oral? Please tell me at least oral.”
“You mean kissing? I kissed a boy once.”
“On the dick?”
I choke on my eggs and start to cough. Patti pats me on the back until I catch my breath.
“I’ll take that as a no. You mentioned your parents were strict, does that mean you weren’t allowed to date either?”
“No, I wasn’t. No dating, no books unless they were church approved, and no TV unless it was the news or a religious show. I went to school and came right home until I was in the eighth grade, then my mom homeschooled me.”
“Ouch. How did you make friends?”
Shrugging, I stare at my food. “I had a friend named Stacy from church, but her family moved away when I was twelve. I hung out with my brothers a lot after that.”
Patti’s mouth hangs open in disbelief. She looks like I just told her I was from another planet. She leans in awkwardly and gives me a heavy nod full of pity.
“It wasn’t that bad. I guess I’m making it sound pretty awful, huh? I really loved growing up on the farm. I love animals and my brothers were always good to me. We’re all very close. I just haven’t been many places or done many things.”
“And here you are in Kane, spilling drinks on rock stars and working in a bar.”
I laugh. “Yeah. Crazy, right?”
Patti takes a bite of her toast and wipes her lips with a napkin before speaking. “What does your family think of your little trip to our town?”
I can’t look at her. I don’t want to lie, so I try to change the subject. “Thank you for letting me stay here and cook. I really appreciate it.” I motion toward her empty plate. “Are you done?”
She nods her head. Gathering up the plates and forks, I turn on the faucet and start washing the dishes. Patti walks over to the sink and leans against it to face me.
“Hey, you only have to tell me what you want to tell me. We just met and I love to talk, so you’re going to have to tell me to butt out if I ask too many questions. But just so you know, these lips are a steel trap.” She pinches them shut and throws away an invisible key. She mumbles, “What we say here stays here.”