Mother Superior Josephine Haywood
Sisters of Christ's Mercy Convent
113 Boulder Road
June 6, 1968
Dearest Mother Superior,
Had I known he was a demon, I never would've spoken to him.
As you know, I took my vows very seriously since I joined the Church 10 years ago. I was 18, and I grew up very poor, so the vow of poverty was a life I knew already. Mom and Dad took me to Mass every Sunday for my whole life, and we studied the Bible every night as a family. I knew and loved Jesus better than I even loved my parents. Becoming a nun - a Bride of Christ - was something I dreamed about since I was very small. And nothing could be more fulfilling than our charity work. A vow of chastity was nothing compared to the prospect of spreading God's Word and Jesus' love throughout our community. Besides, the boys never paid any attention to me during school, so I never once had that temptation. Perhaps if I'd had more experience in that area before becoming a nun, I may not have succumbed so easily.
But he was a polite young man. He was well-spoken, and dressed nicely but casually. He asked for my help with a recipe in the grocery store, and we simply got to chatting. His name was Luke. He had bright blue eyes, dark brown hair and a sweet smile.
"I'm new in town, just moved in from the South, and I just started my new job this week." He hesitated. "I hope I'm not being too forward asking, but would you like to have coffee with me sometime?"
I'd never been asked out by a man before, so I paused for a few seconds, struggling for what to say.
"You don't have to, of course! It's just that I still don't really know anybody around here yet, and I thought it'd be nice to chat to a local," he explained.
"Oh, no, of course." I responded. I took this as an opportunity to do more community outreach, and to make a friend outside the church. "But...I'm a nun, so don't go thinking this is a date or anything."
He looked me up and down, curious. I felt him studying all five feet and three inches of my slim frame, my long blond hair, my green eyes. He gestured towards my long skirt and my button up shirt. "You're a nun? No way! Where's the gowns? The whole black-and-white getup?"
It's been three years since the Second Vatican Council but still people outside the Church don't know that nuns are allowed to wear civilian clothes now. "I only wear my habit during Mass and around the convent. We can wear regular clothes when out in the wider community."
"Well that's very progressive...for the Catholics," he smirked. There was a tone of disdain in his voice that I didn't care for, but I chose to ignore it. After all, the Church taught me that community outreach is not about persuading people to join but about spreading God's love through good deeds and generous attitudes. Besides, defensiveness and talking down to others never got me anywhere.
"It's the Sixties, Luke. The Church has come a long way in the last few years." I smiled, letting him know I wasn't offended. "But I really must return to my duties as the convent shortly. I'd be happy to meet you at Lou's Diner. Thursday at 10am? It's just a few doors down the street."
He agreed and we said our goodbyes. I didn't deliberately withhold information about my not-date with Luke from my fellow Sisters at the convent - I just didn't want them to gossip and turn an innocent thing into something it wasn't.
Thursday morning arrived, and I met Luke at the diner. We chatted, he asked a lot of questions about the city and I answered them as best I could. He then asked some questions about Church, the convent, and being a nun. I answered these confidently, happily. I invited him to that week's Mass, but he politely declined. "Besides, I'd probably burst into flames the second I set foot in a Catholic church."
I remembered his Southern upbringing. "Baptist, huh?" I asked with a sly smile.
"Something like that," he agreed.
I'm an only child, but talking with Luke was what I'd always imagined it would be like to have a brother. Fun, innocent discussions about anything and everything, without any ulterior motives on behalf of the man.
So I continued to see Luke regularly when I was in town on errands or community outreach. Every time, he was polite and respectful of me and the Church. Though I never convinced him to attend Mass, he was nevertheless interested in everything I had to say about our religion.
Which is why I never gave it a second thought when he invited me back to his apartment after one of our lunch meetups at Lou's Diner.
I willingly, naively, followed him to his building and up the elevator to his penthouse suite. The place was enormous! With gorgeous hardwood floors, marble kitchen counters, newly renovated bathroom, and expensive-looking modern art on almost every wall. To a poor country girl, Luke's apartment looked like something out of the movies.
"You okay, Sister? Your jaw's almost on the floor." He chuckled.
"Gosh, I'm sorry, but your apartment is bigger than my parent's house! This place has gotta be expensive, right?" I immediately chastised myself for being so materialistic.
"I guess. I don't know. Work paid for it, I just live here." He shrugged modestly. "Drink? I've got tea, coffee, water, wine..."
"Just water. Thank you."
He poured a glass and handed it to me. Our fingers briefly made contact. A deep, loud buzz filled my mind the instant we touched. It blocked out all thoughts. I never realized until then, but for all our time together, we had never physically touched until that moment. I recoiled from his fingers, almost dropping the glass in my haste.
"Whoa! Simone? You okay?"
I shook my head, clearing the static. "I...I think so. I think maybe I got a static shock or something? It's gone now. I'm all right."
"Okay. If you're sure..." He still looked concerned.
I nodded. "I am. So, what was it you wanted to show me?"