All at once I knew there was no list of deserving girls waiting to get into St. Theresa's; I'd been accepted without delay, and I'd seen empty beds in some of the rooms. Each occupied bed meant six thousand dollars tuition, and the nuns were not about to give that up, regardless how many demerits any of us collected. Inside of me a hot, sour column rose, and I swallowed hard to keep it from my mouth.
"We've made a commitment to your mother to help her with your upbringing," the Mother Superior said as she opened the door for me, "and we intend to to just that."
My head felt curiously light as I walked down the empty hallway. Everyone else was in class. The sound of my shoes against the black and white tiles was like applause, mocking my futile plans of escape.
Such a shame she was widowed so young...
I'd rather be with you than with anyone else...
Lies. All of them.
In the bathroom I ran the cold water until it turned icy. I cupped my hands under the faucet, bent down, and drank for a long time. When I stood up, my nose and chine were wet; in the mirror I watched two drops of water run down my neck.
Such a shame she was widowed so young...
Of course she would have told the nuns that. And they'd believed her. Just as I had believed everything she'd told me.
I wiped my hands against the sides of my skirt and, quickly, left the bathroom. I knew if I waited, if I let myself think, I'd never go through with it. I started running. Opened her office door without knocking.
She was sitting at her desk, one hand holding down the pages of an open book. Through the small window panes the bright afternoon sun slanted, breaking into a pattern of yellow squares on the floor.
"What is it?" She frowned.
I stepped through the tiny particles of dust that floated in the light.
"Yes?"
"I'm--" My voice sounded too loud.
She took off her bifocals. From the hall came the ringing of a bell, announcing the end of classes.
The air felt dry against the inside of my throat. "I don't have a father. I'm--" And then I said it, the word I'd never even tested aloud inside my room at home--"illegitimate"--a word so powerful it filled the office.
At first she didn't believe me. I could tell by the way she looked at me, hard and probing. But I kept staring right back into her eyes until--finally--they turned unforgiving.
--from Unearned Pleasures by Ursula Hegi
