“I think,” Megan interjected a tad too loud and drew all of our attention, “maybe we need a few minutes to collect ourselves and assess what the next course of action should be. You wouldn’t happen to have a radio somewhere, would you? A phone? Possibly a computer with an internet connection? Or a television?”
My attention was on Megan and I noticed the nun in my periphery removing her hand from Callie’s shoulder. I wasn’t an advocate for physical violence and had luckily only encountered a couple of play yard scuffles in my youth before all the current madness erupted, but if I were given an opportunity I would break the self-righteous cunt’s hand.
“Of course,” the Sister said. She clasped her hands together and the sleeves of her robe fell to cover them as she addressed Megan. “Just because we’re a religious order doesn’t mean we don’t live without the conveniences of modern technology. The monastery isn’t a medieval living village.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I said.
It was out of my mouth before I had time to think of what a terrible idea it was to provoke the nun. Callie’s eyes grew to the size of saucers in a comic attempt to shush me. The nun’s gaze snapped to me and the muscles in her jaw constricted.
Megan interjected again, attempting to keep the conflict at bay, “Could I use them to see if I can find a communication from a higher ranking officer?”
Sister Catherine and I continued our hateful staring contest. The nun broke her stare first and turned to Megan.
Catherine said, “There’s a phone and computer in Mother Superior’s office. And a television in the communal room.” She waved her arm toward the hallway again.
Megan mimicked her gesture toward the hallway. “Would you be so kind as to show us?”
The Sister’s eyes fell on mine and Callie’s handles. Her eyes flitted to the knife handle slightly exposed from my makeshift apron/fanny pack before she said, “Please leave your weapons here.” She smiled at me and raised an eyebrow in an expression I could only describe as condescending. “This is a peaceful house of worship and there’s no need for such violent things.”
“Callie sprained her ankle,” I said.
Callie took it upon herself to emphasize my remark by using her handle as a staff and limping closer toward me.
I ignored acknowledging the knife and added, “And I’d rather keep mine. My rod and my staff… they comfort me.”
Fury briefly flashed over Sister Catherine’s face before she lifted her chin in a defiant manner and said, “Follow me.” She turned abruptly and hurried down the hallway in a flurry of red billowing robes.
Megan shot us both a crooked and uneasy smile before following Catherine. I stayed with Callie as she hobbled to follow them. The hallway was lined with stained glass windows on the left side and large wooden doors punctuated the stone wall on the right. The nun and Megan disappeared into the last door at the end of the hallway before a ninety degree turn in the hallway.
Sister Catherine reemerged from the room before Callie and I made it there. She coldly directed us to the door before the room she’d come from, telling us it was the communal room and she’d send Sister Frances to help with Callie’s ankle before disappearing around the corner.
Callie and I entered a wood paneled room with a stone fireplace. Several brown leather sofas were scattered about the room. An old, small, cream-colored television sat atop a flimsy metal cart with wheels. A black box sat on top of the television with two comically long antennas protruding from it.
I helped Callie to a sofa and took her handle and mine and leaned them against the wall by the door. Callie set her purse on the floor and lifted her hurt foot. Her ankle was swollen and I helped her with her shoe. There was some light purple bruising above the ankle bone.
She took one look at it and said, “Oh, god. You don’t think it’s broken, do ya?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a broken ankle. It’s probably just a bad sprain.”
“It looks awful.” She tried to move her foot and winced, sucking air through her teeth. “And it hurts.”
“Don’t move it, Kitty Cat. It might make it worse.”
A young nun came into the room bearing a silver tray with an old-fashioned reusable icepack, an elastic bandage, a bottle of Advil, and a glass of water. I imagined she was Sister Frances as she didn’t introduce herself or speak to either of us. Frances kept her face downturned and emotionless in a demure nature as she sat the platter on a coffee table and approached Callie and I. Her skin was flawless and her eyes had a sad quality I found alluring when combined with her pouty and unsmiling lips. I detected the stirrings of desire, the overwhelming obsession I’d always found mind-consuming until fulfilled, ignite in my loins as the beautiful young nun gently helped Callie to lie down on the sofa without a word. Sister Frances retrieved a throw pillow and propped Callie’s foot up before helping her to take the Advil. Callie appeared to be just as enthralled with the pretty nun and tried to engage her in conversation but the Sister never spoke a word. I wondered if a vow of silence was a personal choice and not something practiced or enforced by a whole monastery.
I turned my attention to the television on the other side of the room to distract myself. The set was old and something I’d seen photos of but never encountered before. There were three small knobs labeled brightness, contrast, and vol/on and two larger knobs. One of the large knobs was numbered two through thirteen with the letter U in place of the number one. The second large knob was numbered fifteen through eighty-three and I imagined it was the channel knob. I guess channel four would be out of the question.
Megan entered the room and approached me. She took in the television situation, shook her head, and spoke just loud enough to insinuate the conversation was between the two of us. “The phones are still non-functioning. And I’m not sure if the internet is working because they have dialup.”
I involuntarily barked a laugh and covered my mouth before I could shout, “Are you fucking kidding me?!” Callie and Sister Frances turned toward us.
Callie said, “What’s happening?”
“No phone,” I said.
Megan turned the vol/on knob and the television hummed to a static filled life. She pushed one of three buttons on the black box I hadn’t noticed before and the screen was filled with a black and white image of the off air color bars and tone. She hit another button on the black box and the screen hesitantly flipped to another channel with a black screen and no sound. She waited a beat before proceeding to another channel and finding a slightly skewed camera shot of an empty news desk. The set of the news room was eerily quiet and the image raised goosebumps on my arms and sent a chill down my spine.
“Only local access,” Megan said. She asked Sister Frances, “Are there any cable channels?”
Sister Frances shook her head without looking at Megan and readjusted the icepack on Callie’s ankle.
I added, “And this is the only television?”
The nun nodded.
Megan flipped through the few remaining channels. With the exception of one channel playing reruns of a ’90s sitcom and a weather channel displaying the current radar the rest were either blank or displayed some sign of technical difficulties. It was blatantly obvious the local television stations had been left to their own devices. I expected to see channel after channel filled with the bloated head of the President spouting off his contempt and brainwashing message live or on a loop and that very well may have been the case on nationwide news channels on cable.
Sister Frances removed the icepack from Callie’s ankle and wrapped it with the elastic bandage before retrieving the items she arrived with and leaving the room. When she exited I couldn’t help but watch her move and try to envision what she looked like under the habit.