"Either way," James continued, "Mary fell in love with the Abbot. The Abbot, however, rejected her, and remained steadfast in his vows. Mary was so heartbroken by this rejection that she went insane, and ran away from the abbey."
"That doesn't sound insane, to me," Alice said.
"In the story, she was insane. She ran down the road, away from the abbey, crying and cursing God for keeping her love away from her. She went on like that until she came to a crossroad." James paused for dramatic effect. Alice looked unimpressed, but Julian and Grace shivered.
"Standing at the center of the crossroad, in a patch of moonlight, was an old woman, dressed in rags. The old woman said, 'Mary, why do you curse God?'
"Mary replied, 'Because God has forbidden my true love to be with me.'
"'To be with your true love, what price would you pay?' the old woman asked.
"'I would pay any price,' Mary replied.
"'Even if that price is your eternal soul?' the old woman said. Then the old woman stooped down and took an acorn off the ground and handed it to Mary. She told Mary that if she cursed God three times, spit on the acorn, and buried it in the ground, the Abbot would be hers."
"In the version I heard, it was a crow's feather, not an acorn," Grace said.
"I like the acorn version better," James said. "Crow's feathers are too cliché.
"So Mary took the acorn, returned to the abbey, and did what the old woman told her. The next evening, the Abbot came to Mary's cell."
"And?" Alice said.
"And... use your imagination," James said, laughing. "He visited her every night for a month, and Mary became pregnant. One night, though, while the Abbot was with her, a nun found the acorn and dug it up. The spell was broken, and the Abbot, realizing what he'd done, fell to his knees, begging God's forgiveness.
"Mary was suddenly possessed of an unholy rage, and attacked the Abbot with supernatural strength. The Abbot held up his crucifix to protect himself, and the room was filled with an agonized, inhuman screeching. The Abbot realized that the sound was coming from Mary's stomach, so he touched the crucifix to her stomach. Suddenly, her body was torn open by the demon she'd conceived while under the influence of the evil spell, and she fell to the floor, dead.
"The Abbot tried to fend off the demon, but it overcame him, and he was killed. But, before he died, what do you think he said?"
"I don't know," Alice shrugged, "was it something like, ‘I yielded to unnatural temptation, and because of this, we are both damned."
James frowned and said, "that was a rhetorical question. How did you know what he said, though?"
"That's really what he said?" Alice looked surprised.
"Word for word. Where did you hear the story?"
"I haven't heard the story before. I heard that line, somewhere, and it seemed to fit," Alice said, shrugging.
"Where did you hear the line?" James persisted.
Alice bit her lip, lost in thought, then shook her head, "I can't really remember. It was a long time ago. The words stuck with me, for some reason."
"The words must be from an old song, or poem, or something," Grace said. "Don't act so mysterious about it. I'm freaked out enough as it is."
"The end of the story was gross, but the story itself wasn't that scary," Alice said.
"You may not be scared now, but sometimes, at night, you can hear Mary crying and screaming. Legend says that she still wanders about the abbey at night, cursing God," Julian said.
"You can hear something, but it's probably just the wind," Grace said. "It makes an awful sound when it whistles though the valley, almost like a scream. You can hear it especially well from the girl's dormitories."
"But that's because the whole thing happened in the women's cloisters," James said. "Mary's cell was the first cell on the women's side, the one with two doors. The Abbot would sneak into her room through the door that opens to the courtyard."
I could feel a chill go up my spine when James said this, and Alice started to laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" James asked.
"That's Miranda's room!" Alice gasped through her laughter. "Poor Miranda, you should see your face. It's totally white- except for your freckles, of course."
I took a deep breath, "thank you for your concern."
"Do you want to switch rooms with me? I'm not scared," Alice said, with a trace of scorn in her voice.
"I'm not scared either," I said, trying to regain my dignity. "There aren't any ghosts. That is just a room like any other. Besides, the story doesn’t make any sense. Why would an Abbot be in charge of a nunnery?"
"We should be ashamed, telling demonic stories like this, anyway," Grace said. "My dad told me not to tell that story anymore."
"It's just a story," Alice argued.
I was finished with my dinner, so I took my tray and stood to put it away. However, when I turned, the older man, who'd given the speech at the beginning of dinner, was standing in front of me, too close for comfort.
"Hello, Miranda," he said pleasantly, holding his hand out. "I'm Dr. John Caleb, co-director of Prodigal Ministries."
I didn't ask how he'd known I was Miranda, but rather, said a polite hello and shook his hand. It was ice cold, and I shivered.
"And you must be Alice," he said, offering his hand to her, as well. "It's nice to meet you."
"Charmed, I'm sure," she said sarcastically, turning her nose up and ignoring his hand.
He shrugged and let her rudeness go for the moment. "If you have finished eating, I'd like to take you girls back to my office, so I can get to know you both a little better. I need to become more familiar with your backgrounds, before you start therapy."
Alice looked like she wanted to object, but she sighed and stood up, taking her tray with her. James said a friendly goodbye, and returned to his conversation with Julian and Grace. Alice and I put our trays the stack by the kitchen window, and followed Dr. Caleb from the room.
He led us down a couple of hallways to his office door. When we arrived, he said, "If you don't mind waiting here, Miranda, I'd like to speak to you separately." He looked at Alice, who sighed again and followed him into the room, seeming reluctant.
I sat outside the room on a hard wooden bench which sat beside the door. The air grew colder as I waited, and though I began to grow drowsy from boredom, my eyes stayed open. I began to shiver in the draft of the hallway, and I drew my knees up to my chest to keep warm.
When Alice finally emerged, I looked at my watch and was surprised to find that only 20 minutes had passed. Alice looked at me, and said earnestly, "Dr. Caleb is a creep. Be careful when you're alone with him."
Before I could ask what she meant, the door opened again and Dr. Caleb emerged. "I'm ready to see you now, Miranda. Alice, you're free to go. You can join the others in the common room, if you like, but be sure to be in your dorm room by 9:30."
Alice nodded curtly and turned to leave. I followed Dr. Caleb into his office, which was smaller than the office I'd seen earlier that day, but even more comfortably furnished in mahogany, with plush, leather chairs which faced the large desk, and walls lined with bookcases filled with beautifully bound books. He closed the heavy door behind us, and gestured for me to sit.
"So Miranda, tell me a little bit about yourself, and why you're here."
"I don't know where to begin," I said cautiously.
"Why don't you start with a simple introduction?" he said. "Like, 'My name is Dr. Caleb, I'm 56 years old, and I'm from Seattle, Washington."
I sighed and began. "My name is Miranda Rothschild, I'm 16, and I'm from San Avila, Texas."
"And how long have you lived in San Avila?"
"Only a few months," I admitted.
"And why did you move to San Avila?" he asked.
"I'm sure you've already discussed that with my parents, haven't you?"
"I'd like to hear it from you, though," he said pleasantly.
"We moved to San Avila after my brother, Mark, died.
We wanted to start over in a new place," I said.
"Were you and your brother very close?" he asked.
"We were as close as twins can be," I said.
"So his death must have been devastating to you," he said.
"Naturally," I said coldly.
"When you moved to San Avila, did you find the new beginning you were looking for?"
"For a time, yes, I did. I found a friendly community, an excellent school, and good friends."
"Tell me about your friends," he said.
"Can you be more specific?" I asked.
"Who was your best friend in San Avila."
"Clara Schuler, but I'm sure my parents have told you about her, as well."
"How did you meet her?"
"We went to the same school," I said.
"What was she like?" he asked.
"She was very nice," I said.
He gave me a penetrating gaze, and I noticed that his eyes were a very cold, piercing grey. I met his gaze calmly, though, and ignored the chill I felt as I looked at them.
"I can't help you, Miranda, if you won't open up to me," he said.
"I don't feel as though I need help," I said. "Thanks for your concern."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Miranda. You see, I've always felt it was my calling to help others, and I feel like God has shown me that I can use my talents to help young people, like you, who are struggling with same-sex attraction. However, it's almost impossible to help someone who doesn't want to be helped. I hope, though, that you will be open-minded, and maybe, during your stay here, you will come to see that the problems you've faced in the past - the problems you've had with your parents, and the loss you suffered when your brother died- have led you here. I hope we can teach you that, even though society tells you that certain lifestyles are acceptable, these lifestyles are, in fact, bad for your mental and even physical well-being."
He rummaged through his desk, and pulled a packet of paper out. He handed the packet to me, and on the front cover, in bold letters, was the title, The Myths and Facts about Same Sex Attraction.
"I want you to read through that packet tonight, before you go to bed, and tomorrow, feel free to ask any of your councilors any questions you may have regarding the information you find there. You might find some of the information surprising. I hope that it will help you be more open to what we're trying to accomplish, here.”
"Thank you," I said.
"Before you go, I'd like to address a couple of things I've noticed. You seem to be a bit resentful of your parents' attempts to help you. Why do you think this is?"
"My parents sent me here, over 700 miles away from my home, family, and friends, even though I’d said I wanted to stay home. I don't feel happy about that," I said.
"Even though your parents only did this out of concern for your well-being?" he asked.
"That's the reason I'm trying to forgive them," I said. "They didn't listen to me, though. They didn't try to see my point of view before sending me away. I'm not happy with them.”
“Even so, I’d like you to try and forgive them soon. In time, you will come to see that they did the best thing for you.”
“That’s your opinion,” I said.
“Forgiving your parents is the best way to start down the road to recovery, Miranda. People who suffer from same-sex attraction most often do so because of issues they have with their parents. For girls, these issues most often stem from problems they have getting close to their mothers. You are seeking the closeness of other women to compensate for the lack of affection from a female role-model. Also, I think, in your case, your problems were aggravated by the void you felt when you lost your brother. You’re trying to, in essence, fill the masculine role, and therefore replace your lost twin.”
“That is a fascinating theory,” I said.
“I think you’ll come to see that I’m right.” He stood and shook my hand. “I think I have enough information to start with. Take your time and read through the packet I gave you when you get the chance, and be sure to be in your dorms by 9:30. I’ll see you tomorrow in group therapy.”
I gave Dr. Caleb a polite goodnight, and fled the cold, yet somehow oppressive, office.
#
I walked through the common room and out into the courtyard, unwilling to sit in the common room and force myself to make polite conversation with strangers. The air outside was brisk, and, though there was no snow yet, there was a bite of frost in the wind. The waning moon had a white halo around it. I hurried through the dark courtyard to my dorm room with my hands arms wrapped around myself for warmth.
When I arrived in my room, I could still see my breath in small, white puffs of air, so I located the small space heater in the corner, by the desk, and turned it on. The room was small, and the heater warmed it quickly, so I was able to remove my cardigan and make myself more comfortable while I read.
I opened the packet Dr. Caleb had given me, out of a sense of fairness and duty, and began to read. The packet had seemed rather thick, but I was able to read it quickly.
Myth: People who experience same-sex urges are born homosexual, and can’t be changed.
Fact: Homosexuality is a behavior, and behaviors can be changed. With a combination of therapy and the belief in a higher authority, people with same-sex urges can eventually learn to live a normal life.
The packet was full of myth/fact statements like these, but with very little evidence supporting the statements. I read through the packet, considered what it had to say, and then tossed it onto my desk.
I consulted the schedule in the small folder on my desk, and saw that breakfast would be served at 8:00 am, so I set my alarm for 7:00. Then I got into bed and turned out the light.
I dozed lightly for a while, but I woke, startled, when I heard the door rattling in the wind. I remembered the story that James had told me about ‘Mary of Misery,’ and for a time I was too frightened to move. I closed my eyes, told myself that the door was only shaking in the wind, nothing more mystical, and that I should go back to sleep. Then I remembered that the outside door didn’t lock. Suddenly, my fears were more practical, and I turned on my light and tested each piece of furniture in the room for heaviness. The bed, along with the chest of drawers which fit underneath it, was the heaviest, so I shifted it until it blocked the door completely. The outside wall was cold, but I felt the peace of mind I gained from the added safety of barring the door was worth any physical discomfort.
I turned my light out again and lay down, but I was unable to get back to sleep. Instead, I watched the small patch of pale light, which came in through the tiny window on the outside wall. The light became brighter, and seemed to waver, so I knew that, outside, it must be snowing.
I touched the silver cross around my neck for comfort, and thought about Clara. I remembered that Clara’s favorite season had been winter. I wished I could call her, and tell her about the snow, certain that she would love to see it. I wished I could tell Clara about the beautiful, old architecture, or see my friends’ reaction to the tale of ‘Mary of Misery.’ I wished I could tell her, and all my friends, about everything that had happened to me since I’d come to the abbey. It seemed as though I’d been there much longer than a day. The abbey was such a strange place, and seemed to be removed from time itself. A tear of regret stole its way down my cheek, but I wiped it away.
“Just be sure to remember everything you see here, so you can tell them about it when you go home,” I told myself.
I continued to watch the snow outside my window, and didn’t fall asleep again until it was almost morning, and the wind had stopped rattling the door. I got perhaps three hours of sleep, but it was light sleep, and when I woke again, though it was not yet 7:00, I got up and dressed myself. I moved my bed slightly away from the door, and looked outside to see the white snow which now blanketed the abbey.
The snow seemed impossibly white in the dim morning light. It covered the yellow grass in the courtyard, and hid the dead leav
es in the fountain, which was now decked in shining icicles. The snowdrifts formed a skirt around the buttresses, and frosted the rough, wooden steeple on the chapel, making it glitter. All of the decay the abbey had accumulated over time was made pure by the snowflakes that swirled and flew like angels in the air.
Chapter 10
Music
Strength
I went back into my room, put on my coat, took my music notebook from my trunk, and then went back outside into the crisp morning air, closing the door behind me. I walked across the still, silent courtyard, and the only sound was the light crunch of snow underfoot. I was alone, so I walked slowly, admiring the serene whiteness of the wintry garden.
The door to the calefactory was unlocked, but no one was yet present, so I felt comfortable enough to go to the piano. My hands were cold, and my wrist was still slightly stiff from my injury, so I played through some elementary exercises to warm up before I played the advanced exercises Mr. Boscov had given me. As I played, as always, I was calmed by the wordless mantra of scales and arpeggios, and I began to feel that, as long as I had music, and as long as nature continued to charm me the way she had that morning, I would be able to endure my time in the abbey. When I looked down, the glitter of silver on my chest was a bittersweet reminder that Clara’s wishes for my happiness were with me, just as much as I wished for her happiness. This provided more incentive for me to be strong.
I finished playing through some of the simpler advanced exercises and then, for my own enjoyment, played one of my favorite nocturnes by Chopin. When I finished playing, it was almost 8:00, so I put my music away and stood to go.
When I turned around, I was surprised to see that a small audience had gathered behind me while I played. James, who was standing near the front of the group, began to applaud.
“Please, don’t,” I said, embarrassed. “I was just practicing. I wasn’t trying to show off.”
“I never said you were trying to show off, but you play well, so I want to applaud,” he said.
Mephisto Waltz Page 18
