Sinful Purity (Sinful Series) (18 page)

“I know it doesn’t matter to you. You’re just helping out here and all. But there’s nothing wrong with coming from meager beginnings. It doesn’t matter at all,” he assured, as if guessing my tightly held secret.

“You know, don’t you? You know I’m an orphan.” I began to sob hysterically.

“Yes, I know, Liz. And I don’t care. No one cares.” Caleb pulled the car to the side of the road so that he could console me. “Liz, there are so many worse things that you could be. A nice girl without a family isn’t as awful as you think. I just wish you had told me. It must be rough for you, living out in the open on your own. I mean, after living like a prisoner for so long, sheltered from so many normal life experiences. The last few weeks must have been hell for you. If you had just said something…”

“I’m sorry, Caleb. I was afraid. My whole life I was known as Mary Elizabeth, the orphan girl. I didn’t want people to think of me that way anymore.”

“I don’t think of you like that, Liz. I just don’t understand why you still spend so much time here. If it were me, I’d run and never look back.”

“It’s all I know, Caleb. I don’t have anywhere else. Even my college education was arranged by Mother Superior and Father Brennigan. St. Matthew’s pays for everything.” I continued to cry uncontrollably. My secret had been discovered.
I
had been discovered. I felt like such a fraud, pretending to live a normal life like a normal girl.

“Liz, it’s all right.” Caleb pushed the hair from my face, took my face in his hands, and rubbed the tears from my cheeks. “It’s not the end of the world. It just explains a lot about you. Why you’re so young, inexperienced with the world.”

“Caleb, how did you know?” I asked, quieting my sobs. I desperately wanted to know what had given me away. Was I so broken and damaged that everyone saw it?

“Your name,” he replied genuinely. “At first it was your name. Not many people have a name like that. My grandfather did, though—Matthew Joseph. Then, when I saw you at the orphanage that first day, the pieces fell together. I saw how much you feared the sisters. No volunteer would keep coming back to a place they dreaded so much, not unless they were forced to. Tied there by some invisible string too strong and old to break. That’s when I knew.”

“Would other people know?” I asked desperately.

“Probably not. But it wouldn’t hurt to tell them. I mean Lucy and Zack. They wouldn’t mind. They’re your friends. They might even be able to make it easier on you.”

“No!” I screamed, a shrill panic lacing my voice. “Please don’t tell Zack. I’ll think about telling Lucy, okay?” I compromised, trying to regain my composure.

“Okay,” Caleb said, not pressing the point.

Before I knew it, I was back at my dorm. I thanked Caleb for the ride and went straight up to my room.

After the excitement of the weekend, the habitual routine of my day-to-day life returned. I tried to put my conversation with Caleb far from my mind. The days were filled with the same classes day after day. My evening activities were all that differed, helping me to keep the days straight, and even then not by much. Monday evenings I spent at St. Matthew’s, helping with odd tasks or cleaning. On Tuesdays I was Mother Superior’s slave.

Wednesday arrived and it was off to St. Matthew’s for confession and evening Mass. I debated how much I should confess to Father Brennigan. I hadn’t really done anything wrong by going out the last couple of weekends, but I still had an overwhelming sense of guilt, mostly about the Tripping Donkey. I hadn’t confessed my secret rendezvous last week and it was still gnawing at me. I felt like I had lied through omission. I knew Father Brennigan could never understand why I had gone to a pub. Even
if I tried to explain that it really wasn’t like a bar at all, I knew he’d only picture the same seedy, crime-ridden dive I’d first envisioned.

There was also the matter of my accidental shooting of Zack at the paintball field. I knew in my heart it was an accident, although I still felt bad about the blue-and-purple, hickey-type bruise it left on his neck. I did really dislike Zack at the time. I thought perhaps I had willed the accident to happen. How could I ever confess to Father that I was constantly allowing my anger to get the best of me? I feared that if I confessed my current shortcomings, Father Brennigan would be so disappointed in me he might decide I was not ready for the freedom he and Sister Christine had bestowed upon me. They might make me return to the orphanage like an errant child.

By the time my turn for confession arrived, I had decided to confess only the sin itself, not the situation surrounding the sin. I thought it was a decent compromise, since I knew that Father Brennigan always requested more details from the residents of MIQ than he or the other priests did of the rest of the congregation. Along the same logic, I was no longer a resident of the orphanage. After making my decision, I felt stronger, like I had more conviction to carry out my plan.

Confess the sin only. No details.

I entered the confessional just like I had every Wednesday since my arrival at MIQ when I was four. I knelt down in front of Father Brennigan, who was seated in a large, armless wooden chair.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession.” I spoke calmly, methodically.

“Tell me your sins, child,” Father Brennigan instructed.

Okay, here I go.
“Father, I have committed the sin of anger. I am guilty of thinking negative thoughts toward another whom I do not like. I committed the sin of procrastination. And I lied to a friend about my past.” I spoke quickly, intently, so as not to give Father Brennigan any time for questions. “That is all, Father,” I declared, and immediately began my Act of Contrition, the prayer in which you apologize to God for your missteps.

“O my God, I am heartily sorry

for having offended Thee,

and I detest all my sins

because of Thy just punishments,

but most of all because they offend Thee, my God,

Who art all-good and deserving of all my love.

I firmly resolve, with the help

of Thy grace, to sin no more

and avoid the near occasions of sin.

Amen.”

“Very good, my child. For your penance you shall say five Hail Marys and three Our Fathers. And try to work on your anger. Will you?”

“Of course, Father.” I bowed my head, waiting to receive absolution. I was so nervous my teeth were clenched.

Father Brennigan spoke.

“God, the Father of mercies,

through the death and resurrection of His Son,

has reconciled the world to Himself,

and sent the Holy Spirit among us

for the forgiveness of sins.

Through the ministry of the Church,

may God grant you pardon and peace.

And I absolve you of your sins,

in the name of the Father, and of the Son,

and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

“You may kiss the ring to show your respect for the church and your continued vow to abstain from sin.”

Father Brennigan held out his hand, displaying the large, imposing ring with its delicately carved cross and lamb. Still anxious, I leaned forward, unclenched my teeth, and kissed the ring.

“Thank you, Father.” I stood and turned to leave the confessional.

Once outside the confessional, I breathed a little easier. The worst part was over. All I had to do now was go to my pew, say the prayers for my penance, and sit quietly through an hour-long Mass. As I began walking to my pew, I felt an odd dizziness begin to overtake me, and I realized I had been more anxious than I’d thought. Rising from my genuflection and entering the pew, I felt my cheeks grow flushed and overheated, and sweat dotted my upper lip. I quickly brushed my lip with my hand. When I pulled my hand away and looked down, there was a smear of blood on my finger. I let out a small chuckle. I had been so agonizingly nervous during confession that I must have bitten my lip. I hadn’t even noticed. I grabbed a tissue from my purse and dabbed the blood away.

I knelt in my pew and finished my penance. Halfway through Mass, the dizziness still hadn’t receded, and now I was quite lightheaded. I immediately regretted skipping my afternoon snack. By the time Mass was over, the dizziness had all but disappeared, and even the mild throbbing in my lip had dissipated. Upon stepping outside onto the steps of St. Matthew’s, I was instantaneously grateful. The frigid weather of the weekend had passed, leaving only a cool breeze to accompany my walk home.

The next morning I awoke refreshed, embracing the knowledge that my soul was untarnished and my conscience clear. My day progressed as usual, although I couldn’t shake the cloudy feeling in my head. My thoughts just didn’t seem clear. I met Caleb and Lucy for lunch as usual. We were firmly entranced by our daily people-watching. My people-watching was becoming more specific, more aptly classified as Zack-watching, with every passing day. But today I felt like I couldn’t concentrate on his mesmerizing smile or his sin-filled eyes.

“Hey, ya okay, Liz?” Lucy asked.

“I’m fine.” I replied, not knowing how much of the conversation I had missed.

“You didn’t hear a thing we said, did you?” Caleb asked with irritation in his tone.

“I swear, you’re just never yourself on Thursdays,” Lucy commented in a huff.

“What did you say?” I asked, trying to break free of my haze.

“I said, you’re never yourself on Thursdays,” Lucy repeated.

“Really?” I asked, confused.

“She’s right, Liz. I would say that Thursday is your least talkative day,” Caleb added.

“I did feel a little weird today. But I didn’t think anyone would notice,” I admitted.

“Oh, darlin’, we notice. Every Thursday it’s like you just check out of your brain taking your personality with you,” Lucy explained.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize.” I felt myself becoming withdrawn and sad, my thoughts conflicted over the life I felt I should be living and the life I desperately wanted. I had this deep-seated feeling of guilt I just couldn’t shake. Yet I had no idea where it originated or what was the cause. I kind of felt like I was going a little crazy.

Lucy gave me a little hug. “Oh, honey, we don’t mind. Caleb and I were just worried about ya. It just seems like something is bothering ya.”

“Yeah, like something is bothering you every Thursday.” Caleb seemed as if he was trying to jog my memory.

“I don’t know why. I don’t really feel very well today. Maybe that’s it,” I conceded.

The rest of my school day proceeded as usual. Anatomy with Caleb and Lucy was, well, gross as always. In western civilizations Zack did say hello to me, which was a first. It had become basic knowledge that during school Zack had his own friends and social life. Caleb and I were not included. We were after-school and on-weekends friends. After school I walked over to the orphanage and started my Thursday chores.

After a couple of hours scrubbing stuff, I ran into Mother Superior. Actually, it seemed like she searched me out.

“Mary Elizabeth, I was looking for you. It seems like we have some mail for you.”

“Mail? For me?”

“Yes, my child. Follow me to my office and I’ll retrieve it for you.”

I followed Mother Superior up to her office. I waited outside on the little wooden chairs I had occupied so many times before. Before I could get too deeply lost in memories, Sister Christine emerged from her office with a single red envelope in her hand.

“This is for you, Mary Elizabeth. I believe it’s from your friend Kelly.”

“Thank you, Mother,” I replied with excitement.

Kelly really had sent me a letter. I couldn’t believe it. It had been months since she and Brett had left for California. I’d just assumed I would never hear from them again.

“If you are done, dear, you may depart early. I will see you on Sunday for morning Masses,” Sister Christine reminded.

“Thank you, Sister. I’ll be here Sunday.”

I ran down the stairs with all the excitement of a six-year-old. “Walk, child. Walk,” I could hear Sister call from up the stairs. But it was too late. I was already down the stairs and out the front doors, grabbing my coat on the way out.

Beginning my nearly three-mile walk home, I immediately wrestled the envelope out of my pocket. It was classic Kelly. The envelope itself was bright red and addressed in thick black pen in Kelly’s practically illegible
bubble writing. The back of the envelope was affixed with a tiny, cute punk rock skull and crossbones—so Kelly. Opening the envelope, I pulled out a lined page of notebook paper. I was certain it contained the events of Kelly’s life since she’d left.

Hey Freak,


      
Sorry I haven’t written before now. Brett and I were getting settled in. We’re both at the same university and LOVE it. California is fab. You have to come visit! We have a place right on the beach. Brett’s even taken up surfing.


      
He still asks about you, just in case you wanted to know. I think it kills him that he left you there. Please tell me you escaped the iron claws of Sister Suffrage and now have a life. But I guess if you’re reading this letter then you’re still doing your time.


      
If you have a chance, please call me. I miss you. You don’t know what you’re missing out here in the real world.


Love you always,


Kelly


(987) 321-0456


P.S. I have a boyfriend now. And he’s totally HOT!


Hearing from Kelly meant so much. None of my new friends could ever understand me the way she did. She and I had lived through the same nightmare. It was real to us, not just a story someone once told . Kelly would be so proud of me living on my own, having my own adventures. I couldn’t wait to call her. I had so much to say. I would need to make a list because I knew as soon as we started talking, all organized thought would go out the window. I wanted to tell her about Lucy and colorful Caleb. I
couldn’t forget about the pub and paintballing. I would have to tell her about Zack. She’d love hearing about him. I was so excited. I couldn’t even sleep. I figured with tomorrow being Friday, I would call Kelly right after school before she went out for the night.