Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood (25 page)

“May I use the second one, Sister?” Vivi asked cautiously.

“Of course you may,” the nun said. “Perhaps you need a whole stack of handkerchiefs.”

When Sister Solange disappeared again, Vivi did her best to clean her face. Her skin felt sticky, unattractive. She could feel the residue of old tears, along with the wetness of new ones.

Back at her side, Sister Solange placed a stack of freshly laundered handkerchiefs on the bed. There was a time when such a gesture would have gone unnoticed by Vivi. But the presence of those cotton cloths folded at her side, ready for her to use, seemed so extravagant that her first instinct was to hide them before they were snatched away.

As the nun turned away from the bed again, Vivi thought,
She does not hate me.

When she returned this time, Sister Solange carried a large white bowl filled with hot water. Setting it on the table beside the bed, she dipped in a washcloth, wrung it out, and then leaned over Vivi. “Close your eyes, please,” the nun said. Then she laid the warm wet cloth over Vivi’s eyes. Vivi took a deep breath that filled her whole body. She could feel the warmth entering the space behind her eyes. She could feel the kindness entering the bruised space around her heart. She drifted back to sleep.

When she woke again, Sister Solange stood next to her, bearing a tray of food. The plain, pleasing smell of potatoes, carrots, and onions cooked in a clear soup wafted up to Vivi’s nose. When she looked into the steaming bowl, Vivi could see the orange color of carrots and the green of celery. A hunk of homemade bread lay on a plate next to the soup, and next to that was a small glass of apple juice.

“Here you are,” Sister Solange said, “your first infirmary meal.”

The nun did not order Vivi to eat. Rather, she set the tray down on the table where Vivi could regard it warily. She slowly sat up, and allowed the nun to place the tray in front of her. Staring at the bowl, she almost gagged at the memory of the saltiness of Saint Augustine food. Slowly, Vivi brought the spoon to her lips. What she tasted was clean and good. The old familiar taste of cooked potatoes and onions and the almost-sweet flavor of cooked carrots soothed her. Vivi ate almost half the bowl of soup before she stopped, exhausted.

Sister Solange removed the tray and then, like magic, pulled out of her pocket three apples.

Setting them on the bedside table, she said, “In case you become hungry later.”

Vivi floated back into another deep sleep, and when she woke again, she had no idea how long it had been. Sleepily,
she spotted the three apples as they sat on the table next to her. In her haze, she imagined that the apples were watching her, calling her up out of her dark slumber.

Sister Solange appeared again, and Vivi wondered if she had been sitting just on the other side of the curtain the whole time she had been sleeping.

“Good morning, Viviane Joan,” she said. “May I show you to the bathroom?”

“Yes, Sister,” Vivi said.

As she sat up and swung her legs down out of the bed, the dizziness returned and Vivi lost her balance. Catching her, Sister Solange placed an arm around Vivi’s waist, and leaned the girl against her. Slowly, she led Vivi to a bathroom, which was not a series of stalls as in the dorm, but a real room with a door that closed.

“I will be just outside if you need help,” Sister Solange said as she pulled the door shut.

When Vivi finished, she tried to stand up, but grew dizzy, and sat back down immediately. “Sister,” she called softly. But she got no response. Maybe the nun had left her alone to be dizzy and sick and attacked by another bathroom monitor. This time she would curl up in a ball and die.

“Sister,” Vivi called out once more, a little louder. “Will you help me, please?”

The door opened, and Sister Solange stepped forward, keeping her eyes down so that she did not embarrass Vivi. Putting her arm around the girl, the nun led her gently back down the hall.

“You are weak as a kitten, Viviane Joan,” the nun said. “Weak as one of God’s little kittens.”

Vivi thought she could detect the faintest scent of lavender about Sister Solange. That’s what it is, Vivi decided. Lavender. That’s what the handkerchiefs smelled like too. How could that be? I haven’t seen any lavender bushes growing at Saint Augustine’s. Vivi loved smelling Sister
Solange. It was a tiny pleasure that made her feel so grateful.

“Do you think you might be ready for a bath?” Sister Solange asked when they got back to Vivi’s bed.

A bath, Vivi thought. Our Lady of Mercy.
A bath
. “Do you mean a real bath? Or a shower?”

“A real bath,” the nun said. “That’s all we have here in the infirmary. One old bathtub.”

The very word “bath” sounded beautiful, almost too luxurious to bear.

“Yes, Sister,” Vivi said. “Yes, I think I’m ready for a bath.”

“Very good,” she said. “We’ll make an agreement, then. You eat a meal, I mean a sizable portion of a real meal, and then you will have a real bath.”

This nun is bargaining with me, Vivi thought. I have never had anybody bribe me with a bath to make me eat.

Slowly, chewing every bite, Vivi Abbott ate almost all of a baked potato. Her sixteen-year-old body, long unstroked, long unheld, craved the sensation of hot water against her naked skin, of steam rising, of her body sinking back into the arms of another element. There was almost nothing she would not do to earn such an indulgence.

Sister Solange left her alone in the tub for a moment while she left to get towels. Vivi lay back in the water, letting her head submerge, feeling the warm water cover her chin, then her nose, then her forehead.

When she came up for air, she felt cold, naked. So she let herself slip back under the water. She lay back like the Ya-Yas would do at Spring Creek when the sun went down, casting swimsuits aside to bathe with Ivory soap, creek water flowing between their legs. Vivi went underwater to another world. She could see light filtering in from the high casement windows; she could hear nothing. She thought she would just stay down there. No reason to rush back up. Just
sink back down into a liquid life with no sharp edges. Glorious.

“Viviane Joan!” the nun called out loudly, leaning down over the tub.

Vivi emerged. She resented being called back to the surface. “What?!” she said sharply.

“I’ve brought you a surprise,” the nun replied.

“A surprise?” Vivi repeated, unbelieving. She had had enough surprises.

“Indeed,” Sister Solange said. “Only you mustn’t tell anybody. This must be our secret.”

“Yes, Sister,” Vivi said, interested in spite of herself.

From the folds of her gown, Sister Solange pulled out a small cheesecloth sack about the size of a ripe fig.
“Voilà!”
she said, and plopped the little sack into Vivi’s bath.

“What
is
it?!” Vivi asked, amazed.

“Close your eyes and breathe in,” the nun said.

Vivi took a long, slow breath. As she did, the fragrance of lavender rose up and met her nose, joining with the steam from the bathwater.

Lavender in my bathwater. How divine, Vivi thought.
This person knows who I am.
“Lavender,” was all she could say. “Oh, my.”

“I grow it,” Sister Solange confided as she sat down on a stool near the tub. “I have three fat lavender bushes growing back behind the laundry.”

“Why can’t I tell anybody?” Vivi asked.

“Well,” the nun said, “all God’s children have different ideas about healing. The other sisters might think I was being old-fashioned. Or . . . indulgent.”

This Sister Solange is full of surprises, Vivi thought. Every time I want to go under, she pulls something else out of her cloak.

“Well, thank you,” Vivi said. “I love lavender.”

“Indeed.” Sister Solange nodded. “I saw the way you smelled the handkerchiefs.”

A little smile crept over Vivi’s face.

“Well, Viviane Joan,” Sister Solange said, her mouth wide open in mock surprise. “That is the first smile you have given me in three days.”

“Three days?” Vivi asked. “I’ve been here
three days
?”

“Three, going on four,” the nun replied. “You were brought to me late Friday afternoon. This is Tuesday morning. You have been my only patient for the past week. Sometimes it gets slow around here. But I expect business will pick up in a couple of weeks when the next rash of colds goes around.”

Sister Solange shifted the stack of fresh towels in her lap.

“Aren’t you embarrassed, Sister?” Vivi asked. “I mean, with me naked?”

“For heaven’s sake,” Sister Solange said, rolling back the sleeves of her habit. “Why should I be embarrassed?! I am a nurse, Viviane Joan. I have seen people’s naked bodies—boys, girls, men, women of all shapes—all of them God’s creatures. The soul needs the body. It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Vivi closed her eyes again. This nun was not what Vivi had expected.

“Besides,” Sister Solange said, “I come from a family of five sisters. We always bathed together when I was young.”

“Five?”
Vivi asked. “I only have one sister. She’s really little. But I have three best friends. They’re like my sisters.”

“I bet you have a lot of friends, Viviane,” Sister Solange said, standing. “It’s probably best if you don’t stay in there too terribly long. You don’t want to end up a stewed prune. Besides, you’re still weak. Want to climb out now?”

“I’m fine to get out by myself,” Vivi said. She was not too thrilled at the thought of anyone, even a nun, seeing her body at this point. She was embarrassed at how skinny she was.

“No, Viviane Joan,” Sister Solange said, firm. “I am responsible for you. You will let me help you.”

Giving up, Vivi allowed Sister Solange to help her out of the tub. Steadying her, the nun helped Vivi pat herself dry, and soon Vivi was dressed in a plain, clean gown.

Exhausted, she slept for the rest of the day, waking only when the nun brought her a bit of rice and vegetables for supper. Vivi ate a small portion of it, and then ate an apple in large bites, rather than her customary small slivers.

That night she dreamed she saw her mother’s face. Buggy was leaning close enough for Vivi to touch her cheek, but Buggy did not see Vivi. She looked straight past her daughter like she was searching for something she had lost.

“Mama!” Vivi called out in her sleep. “It’s me, Mama! Look! Mama!”

Vivi twisted in the sheets, sweating and crying. Trembling, her body jerked sharply when Sister Solange turned on the light, but she was still not fully awake. The nun wore a white cotton gown and her head was unveiled. Her hair, closely cropped and blonde, resembled a scruffy canary, and she had about her an unselfconscious beauty and grace.

“Viviane Joan,” she said, putting her hand on the girl’s forehead. “Blessed child.”

The words were spoken with great compassion, and they helped Vivi wake from the nightmare. But it was her mother’s voice she wanted, no one else’s.

“What is troubling you?” the nun whispered.

“I want to go home,” Vivi said. “I want my mother.”

The next afternoon, Vivi woke from a nap to hear Mother Superior’s voice. She opened her eyes and began counting the strips of light that fell through the shutters that she had opened slightly. It was around noon, she could tell by the quality of light.

A short while later, Sister Solange helped Vivi get out of bed and get dressed. She slipped a lavender sachet into Vivi’s
hand and curled her hand over Vivi’s when she said goodbye. She did not want to let her go.

Sister Solange has taken a vow of obedience, Vivi told herself. That is why she is doing this. That is why she is seeing me to the door, that is why she is making me leave her.

At Mother Superior’s instruction, Vivi went immediately back to her classes that afternoon. Afterward, she skipped supper and lay on the bed in her dorm room. She held the sachet in her hand. The halls were quiet, with the other girls away at supper. Vivi felt like she was on a huge ship, alone.

After she slipped out of her gray wool school uniform, Vivi took down her blue velvet gown from the wall. She longed for a mirror, but there were none at Saint Augustine’s. Reaching into her trunk, she lifted out the silver compact, a gift from Genevieve before she left. A single rose was engraved on the lid, and inside the powder smelled sweet, like Genevieve’s dressing room. Opening the compact, Vivi looked at her face. She studied her eyes, her nose, her mouth. She longed to see her whole body reflected. She pulled the straight-back chair on top of the cot. Holding her dress, she climbed up onto the chair in front of the high window. Darkness had fallen, and with the light on in her room, Vivi could see her naked body mirrored in the windowpane. She pulled the dress over her head. Strapless, with tiny hooks that fastened up the side, the dress was now far too big for Vivi’s emaciated body.

Jack could not keep his hands off me in this dress, she thought. He would rub the velvet lightly when we danced; his tender touch made me shiver with excitement.

Letting the dress fall, Vivi looked at her breasts reflected in the window. She cupped her hands under her bosoms. Then she dropped her hands to her sides and stared at her own image until the room started spinning.

Climbing down carefully from the chair, Vivi put it back in its place, and turned off the light. Then she opened the
windows wide, and lay down on top of the wool blanket that covered the cot. It scratched her back. She could feel her eye sockets burning. She wished she had some bourbon. Soon she fell into a deep sleep.

She dreamed of Jack lying next to her on a pink-and-white checkered blanket at Spring Creek. They were holding hands, staring into a bonfire. In the dream, she was achingly hungry for the kind of food they usually cooked out at the creek. Suddenly the flames of the bonfire leapt toward the two of them. Flames hot and furious, ready to devour them. When she reached for Jack, he was already on fire.

She woke screaming, the smell of burning fabric assaulting her nostrils. It took a moment before she realized the flames at the foot of her bed were real. Her midnight-blue velvet dress was on fire and the flames had leapt to the sheets.