Chapter Text
Make today harder. Let me prove myself to you.
Psalm twenty-three, verse four. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
…
Let my doubts be silenced and my heart be open to you. I can do this through you.
Psalm twenty-three, verse four. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
…
Can you see me? Do you hear me? Do you love me?
Sohee repeats the verse over in her head, connecting it to her concerns. A spaced repetition method she still hasn’t been able to nail very well. She gives every passage an adequate amount of time to really let the words soak in, find the peace they are supposed to bring..
I have faith. I do. Help me find it.
Psalm twenty-three, verse—
The sun beaming through the stained-glass window is heating her left cheek. Its hot rays pry one of her eyes open. Through the portrait of Jesus Christ amongst a few lambs, the tip of the sun glares at Sohee. Coming up just behind the few dormitories, it must soon be time for the others to wake up. She squeezes her eyes shut and picks up where she had left off in the verse.
Sohee doesn’t get much further from the beginning. A large, abrasive yawn from the back of the chapel breaks her out of her meditation. The sound’s low and sleepy tone gives her a good hint of who else is in here so early. She turns her head slowly, lips flattened into a straight line.
Sister Eunseok smiles at her. Sohee can’t hide her surprise at seeing Eunseok in nothing but her nightgown. Her bleached bangs and the distressed ends of her hair poked out of her haphazardly placed coif and wimple. She sits cross-legged, leaning on the back pew and awkwardly holding her smile for some sort of comedic effect. As soon as Sohee’s face drops, Eunseok’s does too.
“Why are you up so early?” Sohee tries and fails to hide the agitation in her voice from being interrupted.
“I could ask you the same.”
Her eyes stare lazily into Sohee’s. There is something about Eunseok’s aloof yet quiet nature that makes every interaction between them feel like some sort of challenge. For what reason? Logically, Sohee isn’t sure; it’s more of a feeling than anything else. All she does know is: she doesn't want to give Eunseok whatever satisfaction Sohee believes she gets from this.
“Couldn’t sleep. I got an early start on prayer.”
“You can pray in your room.”
“I know that,” for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Sohee steadies her breathing and suppresses the snark in her voice. “I just—I woke up and felt a pull towards the chapel.”
“Every morning?” Eunseok’s tone is dark and even lower than before. Sohee realizes too late that she’s falling into the trap that Eunseok had laid.
She doesn’t know whether to act oblivious or deny whatever Eunseok might think she knows. Within a few seconds of silence, Eunseok laughs at her. Sohee thinks she must look like she had just seen the holy ghost while trying to come up with something to say. She fixes whatever face she has on, closing her parted mouth.
“I see you here. Every morning.”
Eunseok says it as if she’s caught Sohee in the act of something sinful. Sohee wants her alone time with God. A direct contact, away from prying eyes, just her and him. How long had Eunseok known she was doing it? Why did she even care?
Eunseok stands up from her seat on the pew. Like the physical embodiment of her own voice, she is slow and deliberate in her movements. She doesn’t stop until they are less than a foot apart. With Sohee still in a kneeling position at the altar, Eunseok looks like a statue towering over her. Sharp features, all except for her soft natural pout that is stretched into a demeaning smile. The faintest fantasy of Sohee grabbing Eunseok by the throat and bringing her down a notch passes through Sohee’s mind.
Sohee won’t give in to her impulse. She balls her hands into fists instead, letting the pressure of the conversation all flow to her fingertips, she presses them into her palms.
“What are you doing out so early every morning?”
Eunseok’s smile doesn’t waver, not one bit; she just hums at the question. She takes a deep breath, as if the anticipation of the answer is supposed to set Sohee off. Sohee keeps her face as still as she can. She follows Eunseok’s eyes to the window. The sun is now almost halfway above the dormitory.
The bell above the chapel tolls, and Eunseok lets out the breath she had been holding all at once. She puckers her lips and puts her index finger in front of them. shushing an already silent Sohee.
It is now five a.m. The start of Great Silence. Eunseok snickers to herself. Her dark under-eyes pull back as she gives Sohee a genuine smile. Sohee could easily picture herself digging her blunt nails into them until Eunseok screams in apology to be let go. But she won’t picture it; she’ll give those thoughts to God as if she never had them at all.
Eunseok shuffles the top of Sohee’s coif before turning to leave. She waves absentmindedly as she pushes past the large wooden doors. Just as the doors click shut, Sohee quickly stands, adjusting her coif and habit back to its original state.
Help me forgive her. She repeats the prayer until it gradually turns into an actual statement of forgiveness. She says it a few more times until she believes it herself. God has already started her test, because he knows she has faith better than Sohee knows it herself.
Today will be difficult, just like every other. But Sohee will manage, and God will see, and he will say she is good.
—
By the time Grand Silence is over, Sohee has the chapel ready for morning prayer and Mass. It is what it has always been. Repetitive, familiar, safe. In the wide open space of the chapel, God forgives each of his children. The cleansing of all souls prepares them for the day.
Sohee takes her time going from the chapel to the dining hall. The entry sign for Saint Joseph’s Convent makes itself visible as she moves. Growing up, Sohee remembers driving past it on her way to church. It used to say something about seeking guidance for the orphaned children of God. That was back when the convent doubled as a sort of foster home for young sisters.
Now, underneath the old cursive of the entry sign reads a new pledge. To live and work a diligent life, to serve and love so that all of God’s children may be united with him and one another. It’s lengthy, but hopeful. With no grandiose promises just waiting to be left unaccomplished. It holds an obvious purpose with clear directions for Sohee to fulfill.
She sees herself in the wall cracks of Saint Joseph’s. She sees herself in every unkempt bush in the courtyard. Sohee sees herself the most when a choir member goes slightly off-key and then continues singing as if nothing even happened. This place is a home of second chances, her home.
Sohee uses her prayer before breakfast every day to thank God for everything He has provided her.
“Watch Sister Shotaro.”
A knobby finger jabs Sohee’s side mid-prayer and she instinctively jumps at the pressure poking into her ribs. The surprise pulls her eyes wide open, revealing the culprit, Eunseok, to her right. She bites into a sweet roll, a satisfied smile curling around the flaky bread. Sohee frowns.
The small chatter of the sisters in the cafeteria flooded back into Sohee’s ears. Eunseok raises one of her straight eyebrows, and it curls towards Sohee, coaxing her to react further.
“It’s Mother now.” A level voice reminds them.
Sohee shifts her eyes two centimeters to the right and sees Sister Sungchan nudging Eunseok lightly with her elbow. She flashes a polite smile towards Sohee that works in instantly alleviating most of the tension in her body.
Sister Sungchan is the most pure example of Godly perfection Sohee has ever seen. Soft round eyes, bright, unblemished skin, she even keeps her hair perfectly hidden behind her coif. Not a single strand has ever made its way through the edges. Some sisters use it as evidence she’s stuck in the past, holding onto the rules of the old Vatican. Sohee sees it as determined dedication. It is something she admires; it is something she tries every day not to envy.
Sungchan’s side is pressed firmly into Eunseok’s. Sohee's angle makes them look like conjoined twins. It is an interesting sight. Eunseok consists of sharp features and a need to disturb. Sungchan is soft and intimidating in her perfection. Despite being opposites in almost every way, they are always near each other. A product of growing up together in the convent, Sohee suspects.
“Whatever, look at her.”
They both follow Eunseok’s nod to a couple of tables over where Mother Shotaro is talking to another group of nuns gathered for breakfast.
If Eunseok is the embodiment of disturbance, and Sungchan is the embodiment of perfection, Mother Shotaro is the embodiment of the sun itself. Her curly smile and tender eyes envelop any onlooker in total warmth. Sometimes it becomes too warm, and Sohee has to avert her gaze.
When she does, she notices Eunseok’s hands slide under the table. Unable to see what it is doing, Sohee is left to her imagination. Fingers may toy with her habit, or curl into a disgruntled fist for whatever reason, or lightly stroking the clothed leg of Sungchan sitting next to her…
Sohee’s thoughts easily stray into the sinful. Disgust at her own brain twists Sohee’s facial features. Sungchan’s shifting away from Eunseok makes it all the worse, as if she can hear the horrible things in Sohee’s head. Sohee forces her gaze back onto the shining Mother Shotaro.
“What are we supposed to be noticing?” Sohee asks after a deep exhale, forcing herself away from her own thoughts.
“Eunseok is just being rude.” Sungchan responds, but she says it in a playful hiss directed at Eunseok. The cheeky tone tugs at something deep inside Sohee.
“Rude? How is pointing out the obvious rude?” Eunseok lets out a small, huffed laugh. “The job is already taking its toll.”
Shotaro is making her rounds, it seems. She hops from table to table, talking to handfuls of sisters before she makes her way to the small table in the back that Sohee and the other two occupy. It isn’t a custom the previous Mother made a habit of doing, so Sohee suspects Shotaro is just trying to do her due diligence.
“Good morning, sisters.” She smiles down at them; it’s genuine and so, so warm already.
“Good morning, Mother.” They say in unison. Sungchan is the most eager. Sohee’s voice feels like a mouse squeaking as it comes out, and on second-thought, she isn’t sure if she heard Eunseok say anything at all.
“That still feels so weird to hear.” Shotaro laughs. There is a nervousness in the laugh that bubbles closer to the surface the longer it goes on.
Shotaro has only been Mother of the convent for roughly a week. Only the vicaress for a year before this. The abrupt passing of their previous mother shoved the promotion onto Shotaro. She wasn’t prepared in the slightest. It may be temporary, depending on the decision of the Vatican.
Sohee can see what Eunseok meant now that Shotaro is closer. Her under-eyes are dark with hours of unrest, and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Eunseok gives Sohee a small smirk with her eyebrow raised. It feels accusatory even though Sohee hasn’t said or done anything out of the ordinary.
“Are you nervous? Sister Sohee?”
Shotaro’s question pulls Sohee from her thoughts and back into a more disorienting reality.
“Nervous?”
“For tonight?”
Ah, today’s date finally catching up with Sohee, she remembers the town hall talent show is tonight. Something the choir has done every year. They’ve never won, but it isn't about winning, Sohee tries to remind herself every time she thinks of the possibility. The convent takes part every year to signify its ties with the community.
“No, I’m excited. The choir is more prepared than it has ever been.” Sohee uses her chopsticks to poke a few peas around her plate as she answers.
Sohee meant what she said. As the director of the choir, Sohee doesn’t want to boast about their achievements, but they have come so far since she’s joined. Her thoughts get ahead of themselves again, and she rushes to reel them back in, humbling herself.
“That’s good. I wish I could be there,” Shotaro sighs, dramatic just for the sake of it. “I’m gonna miss seeing so much of the community.”
“I can help lighten the load if you need, Mother!”
Sungchan's enthusiasm echoed through the entire cafeteria. She practically yells out the words. A few heads turn towards their conversation; Shotaro lightly chuckles, truly amused. Sungchan just laughs along sheepishly.
She adjusts her volume to continue. “If you want to go, I can take on some responsibilities.”
Shotaro’s smile becomes all too soft, all too genuine. “Most of them are meetings for which I can’t have a proxy. I will let you know if something comes up, though, believe me.”
“... Pathetic.” Eunseok mumbles as Shotaro walks out of hearing distance.
Sungchan’s polite face remains calm, but she does something underneath the table that causes Eunseok to yelp. Sohee digs her nails into her palm to the best of her ability. She excuses herself quickly, heading straight for the chapel. One more private prayer with God before she has choir practice.
James 1:19-20 Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.
—
“Mother is in confession a lot more recently,”
Sohee, on the bus to the community center, picks up on the conversation the sisters Minjeong and Jimin are having in the seats ahead of her. It makes sense that if Sohee cannot escape the conversation, then she is not subject to accusations of eavesdropping. In other words, it cannot be something they use against her at the pearly gates.
“Well,” Jimin leans in and lowers her voice. Sohee can only hear little bits here and there. “...raising her voice…the chaplain…money.”
There is a beat of silence. A small dip in the road causes Sohee to jostle; she lets go of a long breath she didn’t know she was holding.
“It was a little thrilling.” Jimin laughs, faking a few shudders.
Sohee looks a few rows further where the chaplain, Father Mark, sits. She really only sees him during mass, or at events like these where he can mingle with the community and bring in more church-goers. He is young and charming in the sense that he is blissfully oblivious to everything that does not center on church or God. Sohee should commend him for that, does even. There’s something inside her that just can’t stand him.
His easy-going, natural way of conversing, making the sisters laugh and joke with him, even down to the way he parts and gels his hair for Sunday service. Sohee has imagined herself, more than once, being called upon God to strike him down. Whether through divine powers bestowed upon her to implode him, or by the power of her own human hands squeezing the air out of his lungs.
“Would you like to lead us in prayer before we go out, Sister Sohee?”
When Sohee blinks out of her daydream, Mark is smiling at her from his seat. The bus has stopped and everybody has turned to her. She should say a prayer, and a silent repentance for herself, before they head out. Sohee quickly bows her head.
“Our Father in Heaven, may you bless all your children tonight. Let the communion and music fill your ears with our songs and our joy. An—”
“Amen.” Father Mark assumes the ending of her prayer. Sohee is so stunned she forgets to amen with the rest of the sisters. Everyone filed off the bus, making it seem like Sohee's humiliation was only in her imagination. Maybe it was. She finished her silent prayer before getting off the bus herself.
Around a hundred or so people fill the community center. A band was already setting up on the small theater stage while everyone else conversed and grabbed snacks from the potluck table set to the side. The entire place smells of freshly brewed coffee and mothballs. Just like the chapel on Sunday mornings, its familiarity is a comfort. Sohee finds a few people-free rows of chairs for their group to sit in. They are the third act out of ten.
The surrounding lights suddenly dimmed, and a few sisters and Father Mark scrambled to the chairs from the snack table. A single spotlight shines from above, a little too small to cover the stage. Directly underneath the light stands a woman with short black hair. She’s holding a guitar and closes her eyeliner-smudged eyes before she strikes the first chord of the song.
The other instruments immediately follow the chord into a slow beat with deep resonance. Sohee closes her eyes and allows the music to take her wherever it wants. Away from the community center, away from the perpetual worries and hundreds of memorized words taking up all the space in her head.
The song’s lyrics are mostly abstract. Yet, the pre-chorus makes the message of yearning obvious. See me, see me. Believe me, believe me. Are you destined to leave, or is there something I can say to make you stay? Do you even notice I make it all about you every day?
A soft backing vocal comes in for the chorus of Lalala’s. It’s airy and adds a heavenly contrast to the bold pitch of the lead vocalist. Sohee opens her eyes to see where the vocals are coming from. It’s hard to see anyone else but the lead singer taking up the small spotlight, but to the right of her stands another woman.
She is the only other one in the four-member group who is singing into a mic and playing a guitar. As she sings, she closes her eyes and sways her body to the rhythm. Sohee takes notice of her long brown hair tied into a loose ponytail, long bangs still falling into her eyes. She has on a brown plaid maxi skirt and a form-fitting plain white t-shirt.
Her attire is not at all immodest, yet her ample chest takes up so much of her top that Sohee wouldn't be all that astonished if the wrong move caused the shirt to tear completely. It becomes much worse when the woman flips the guitar behind her back, and the strap snuggles itself between her breasts. Sohee doesn’t mean to look too long, unsure how long is too long anyway, but when her eyes finally look back up to the woman’s face, she is eyeing Sohee.
Sohee averts her gaze fast, back to the lead singer who is now head-banging to the drum solo. Her entire body feels as though it has been lit on fire. What started out as just a mild sense of heartburn now spreads further and further; her bones tense, her jaw hurts. Just a small glimpse of what Hell feels like. She closes her eyes for the duration of the song. Only allowing herself to open them again once everyone claps.
The band takes a bow; the woman’s eyes linger on Sohee as they walk off. Stomach acid slowly fills Sohee’s lungs throughout the second act until it’s Saint Joseph’s time to sing.
When Saint Joseph’s gets settled on stage, the choir waits for Sohee’s first low hum to start the song. They slowly swell into their chosen rendition of Salve Regina. Sohee went for the monophonic arrangement; it was cleaner and the crowd could hear the Latin the choir studied hard to sing correctly.
Sohee keeps her chin up, eyes closed, fully letting God use her voice as his mouthpiece. She catches only one mistake from the elder Sister Jaejoong, who comes in too early during the second verse. It causes Sohee’s heart to plummet directly into her stomach; the sensation momentarily stutters her singing.
Her eyes snap open, just to spot if anyone has caught her slip-up. Though when she scans the crowd, almost everybody is blankly staring or nodding off. There is only one pair of eyes, on the middle right side of the chairs, that look straight into her own. The girl with the flowery voice, who had caught Sohee watching her. Her eyes wide, upper body leaning forward as if she heard the voice of God through the choir. Through Sohee.
Sohee tears her gaze away, back to the ceiling. God knows the song is for him only. She smiles through the last chorus.
By the end of the talent show, it was the first band that won with its original song. While everyone gives their congratulations and praise, Sohee uses the time to ask God for forgiveness. Forgiveness for expecting more, forgiveness for the rage that takes over her entire system momentarily. It was always supposed to be for His glory alone.
They stayed a moment longer after the talent show had ended. The part of the night where Father Mark mingles with the townsfolk and some sisters meet up with family they haven’t seen in a while. Sohee stays close to the snack table, munching on the no-bakes until it is time to go.
Then the woman from the first band comes into her view. She now has a cardigan over her tight shirt. A heavy feeling eats away at Sohee’s stomach as she wonders if she is the reason the woman covered up. Did she stare too long, or in a certain way that might appear creepy? Hoping to fill the void quickly, she unceremoniously stuffed the rest of the no-bake into her mouth.
Sohee has no time to pray about the feelings. It looks like the woman is walking up to Sohee, or perhaps she intends to ask her to step aside so she can reach the no-bakes. That one makes more sense. Sohee goes to move out of the way before the woman speaks up.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” She asks.
She’s so tall up close. Even taller than Eunseok and maybe Sungchan, who both easily surpass Sohee in height. Sohee has an up-close look at her face now. She has glitter on her eyelids, which makes her dark eyes look bigger and shinier. A dewy blush and a similar shade of lip gloss painted over her wide smile give her the impression of a kind fairy from the fantasy books Sohee used to read as a child.
“I—” Sohee stumbles on her words. There is a slight familiarity in her face, but that could just be from the fantasy books. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay.” The woman’s smile doesn’t falter once. It feels like the end of the pleasantries, so Sohee tries to turn back towards the table.
“It’s just, uh, you look so familiar.” She suddenly continues. “Have you always been a nun?”
The question pricks at Sohee’s skin. It is unfair how much her habit gives away one of her biggest life stories. The outfit says it all for her, Sohee doesn’t get to hold these things close to her and only her.
“I have for five years.”
The woman opens her mouth to speak, closes it, and smiles. It’s wobbly and awkward. “You have an amazing voice, by the way. I wanted to tell you. Like, really, wow, amazing.”
No matter how out-of-the-blue the compliment is, pride surges through Sohee’s body. She knows, but she’s glad someone new noticed too. Sohee tries to hide her unavoidable smile by pursing her lips and nodding.
“Thank you. I liked your…” She didn’t pay enough attention to whether the woman was playing the guitar or bass, so she just mimicked some vague air guitar strums. “playing.”
The woman lets out a string of hiccuped giggles. Hiding her deepening smile with one hand. Her laugh and speaking voice are just as soft and ethereal as her singing, Sohee notes.
“Thanks.” She gazes at her shoes, fingers absentmindedly playing with her skirt. “Um, you’re not just saying that to be nice? Are you?”
The question takes Sohee entirely off guard. Even if she had, why would it matter? They didn’t know each other well enough for Sohee to feel bad about her polite white lies. Not that it was one.
“No?” Sohee can’t help the questioning tone that accompanies her answer.
“So, you’re a Catholic?”
Again, Sohee can’t help the way her eyes narrow, zeroing in on the woman’s strained face. She keeps taking a pause between each question to smile and think of something else to ask. As if she’s reaching for something. Sohee recognizes it as perhaps a plea for help from a religious figure. She just needs to extend the olive branch.
First Peter chapter three, verse fifteen. Always be ready to explain the hope and faith you have to anyone who asks, doing so with gentleness and respect.
“Yup, up at Saint Joseph’s.” Sohee’s answer sounds chirpy to her own ears; it brings some comfort to her, and to the woman, if her ceasing fidgeting is anything to go by.
“Oh, I don’t really know the area; I just sort of blew into town. Ha.” She laughs robotically.
“Are you also Catholic?”
There is a long bit of silence, as if the question is one that demands some contemplation.
“Yes!” she suddenly answers with a raised voice.
With such an odd demeanor, she must be going through troubles with her faith, Sohee thinks. Maybe born into the church, someone who has lost their connection to the Holy Father. Attending church only when it's convenient. You see cases like this in every church. Once a kid has left the house that brings them to God, they often also leave God.
“Were you rai—”
A boisterous Mark makes his presence known from behind Sohee, cutting her off. He is laughing like a hyena, a little too close to her ear. She can’t help the small sneer that pulls at her lips.
“Congratulations on the win! You guys are so talented, we need to collab!” He sticks his arm out for the woman to shake, and she takes it gingerly into her own.
“Oh, thanks.” She laughs; that bashful look towards the ground comes back. “Sort of feel like the win just goes to Wonbin. She’s the only one who's really from here.”
Mark either doesn’t hear her soft explanation, or doesn’t care. Sohee suspects the latter.
“I overheard you were Catholic. Have you ever heard of alternative praise and worship? That would be such a cool route for you guys to go.”
Whether he is kidding or being completely serious, Sohee can’t tell. Either way, she is utterly embarrassed and can't help the grimace that overtakes her entire face. The woman lets out a small laugh, only furthering Sohee’s embarrassment.
“We are…”
“Toni.” The sharp voice of the lead vocalist comes from behind the tall woman’s shoulder. She says nothing else, just motions for Toni to follow her as she continues out of the venue.
“It was great meeting you guys.” She says, eyes unwavering from Sohee before taking off in a clumsy run to meet up with the rest of her band.
“You too!” Mark waved her goodbye before abruptly turning to Sohee and squealing like a schoolgirl.
“You guys did amazing! Chills! Absolute chills.” He raves, too exuberantly for it to feel genuine. “I know the entire center felt his presence.”
The entire community center, sans Sohee, who only felt the presence of a tall woman with a bashful smile staring her down the entire night.
—
There is an itch inside Sohee, one that begs to be scratched. It has been sitting dormant in her all day, since she asked her Heavenly Father to make today unbearable as a test of faith. Sohee promises nobody in particular that she will see him one more time before bed.
It is around eleven-thirty when they get back to the convent, past the usual curfew, which is a strict ten p.m. All the sisters loaded off the bus and headed straight for the dormitories. Sohee follows behind the sisters, casually slowing her speed until the sisters are a few feet ahead. At the fork in the path, none of them notice as Sohee slips down the opposite way towards the chapel.
She has to pull the doors open slowly and as quietly as possible; the vicaress’s office lights are still on close by. No doubt, Mother Shotaro is awake past this hour. Once inside, Christ greets Sohee. Beyond the rows of pews, nestled behind the pulpit. A chiseled, sculpted corpse hanging on a towering cedar cross. In his presence, she feels more like an ant than usual. With it just being them, Sohee can stare at him as much as she wants. His sorrowful eyes cast to the side, his permanent painful expression is so tortured, so beautiful.
Luke 23:34 Forgive them, Father; they know not what they do.
Her pain is incomparable to anything the Son of God had to face. Sohee takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. The chlorine and camphor scent of the mothballs fill her nose; she holds it in for as long as she can, one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…
“Right now?” Sungchan’s unmistakable saccharin voice echoed through the empty chapel.
A gentle thud coming from the direction of the confessional accompanies it, pulling a premature exhale out of Sohee. She hurriedly crouches down by the nearest pew, giving herself a few seconds of clothes rustling before she slowly peeks her head up.
Past two sets of pews, roughly the length of the church bus, Sungchan’s back faces Sohee. Sungchan whispers something at the confessional before bursting into a fit of subdued laughter. The box laughs back; it’s low and smooth. It is familiar, and it only takes a second for Sohee to realize Sungchan has Eunseok backed up against the confessional.
Sohee sinks further into the floor until she sees nothing but the solid red oak of the pew end. The laughter turns into lewd kisses and hums, shushes, and then more laughter. A large mass takes shape in Sohee’s throat; her mouth becomes too dry to swallow it.
The sounds of shared moans and heavy breathing get louder in Sohee’s ear. Her own body betrays her; her thighs tense and toes curl. She slowly uses her wobbly legs to get up and walk towards the door. Sohee stays in the dark, avoiding any fast movements. There is a sharp hitch of breath that pulls Sohee’s attention to the confessional mid-walk.
Eunseok cradles Sungchan’s head in the crook of her neck. Sungchan slowly rocks the lower half of her body, one leg wrapping around Eunseok’s waist. Her habit rides up to her hips, and Eunseok keeps it held up with her elbow; the rest of her hand disappears into the skirt.
Sohee’s mind makes up what her eyes can not see. Eunseok could be lightly tracing circles around Sungchan’s inner thighs, pressing harder the higher she got. She could be using two fingers to pet Sungchan's panties gently, maybe teasingly entering her lips just the slightest bit through the fabric.
There is the sound of an elastic band snapping. Both Sungchan and Sohee take a sharp inhale. Sungchan angles her head to face Eunseok; small kissing sounds bounce off the walls and ring into Sohee’s ears. Eunseok pulls her hand out from under Sungchan’s skirt, then slides the same fingers into Sungchan’s mouth. With no verbal direction whatsoever, Sungchan began to suck and swirl her tongue around them as if they were the last lollypop on God’s green Earth.
Her feet are heavy, glued to their spot. She should have never stopped in the first place. She knows that.
The moonlight through the window behind Sohee hits their faces almost perfectly. She can now tell Eunseok is facing her. Maybe she imagines the wink that followed; it could have been the moon. It could have been the devil taunting her.
Sohee races out of the chapel without thinking about any noise she might make. The searing heat built up inside her does not quell with the outside wind. She runs until she has reached the dormitory. Tip-toeing into her room, she slowly guides herself to her bed and just sits, staring at her door.
There have been whispers about Eunseok’s lack of respect for the nun lifestyle. They all come rushing to her at once. Occasionally caught smoking, unafraid to sling profanities when she sees fit, the need to play the literal devil’s advocate during group studies.
This is different, in a league of its own. Sohee closes her eyes, and she’s back in the chapel with them. Did she make too much noise and spook them? Or are they still in there? With Eunseok guiding Sungchan into the confessional, sitting in the cramped space and setting Sungchan on her lap so she can touch more easily.
Sohee folds her hands in her lap.
Picture Perfect Sungchan unraveling into shivers and guttural moaning. Those sounds aren’t just made; they are pulled out of a person. Eunseok fingers massaging deeper and deeper into Sungchan’s wet heat, thumb teasing her clitoris just to be needlessly evil. But Sungchan loves it.
Sohee folds one leg over her hands. She squeezes them together, lets the mattress springs help rock her hips into her hand. The slightest amount of pressure beckons her hips forward; her core tenses.
Sohee tightens the wrap around her legs, curls her fingers, only a little. The brief sensation of her own fingers slipping past her opening, even through the clothing, makes her whole body warm. Her shoulders heat, her ears burn, every part of her begs to come undone, just like Sungchan.
Sohee freezes. She can’t go on, she can’t keep lying to herself because it’s no good. God is all-knowing. Not even in the safety of her room is she free from temptation. The book of Genesis talks about sin crouching at the door, just waiting for an opening to attach itself. Sohee gave in so willingly.
She swiftly untangles her legs and lowers her entire body to the side of her bed.
I am so sorry, God, forgive me. So, so, so sorry. I failed you again, again and again and again. She says ten Hail Mary's, it’s not enough. Tears prick at her eyes, but Sohee refuses to pity herself. The woman who puts herself in this very situation, who fails her tests time and time again, that woman does not get to cry for herself.
She reaches under her bed, feeling around until her fingertips touch a cord of tough rope. She pulls the rope out until a small scourge lies splayed in front of her. An instrument of penance, able to physically rid the sins that Sohee cannot reach. It is only a small fraction of what Jesus had to suffer. Repentance is not enough for Sohee; it doesn’t hold her accountable enough. She fails daily.
Mortification of the flesh, that is the discipline Sohee needs. The kind mother Shotaro and the abbesses of today would never allow. But the late Mother trusted her. When Sohee was at her lowest in the convent, the late Mother offered a solution she knew Sohee would be able to take. Nobody had ever believed in her as much.
Sohee strips off her habit, folding it and setting it on the seat of her desk chair. Only dressed in her undergarments to avoid unwanted damage, Sohee grabs the whip as she kneels in front of her bed. A much smaller figure of Christ on the cross greets her from above her headboard.
What do you want from me? She asks God.
He doesn’t respond.
Then it will be one strike before each prayer. One strike for every repentance until she has beaten her sinful system.
Matthew 27:46 And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?” that is to say, “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?”
Sohee pulls the whip into the air, gaining the courage to strike behind with full force. Maybe tonight it will finally stick. Tomorrow she will be better. God will see, and he will say she is good.
—
Sohee can only close her eyes for a few minutes before her thoughts easily begin to stray.
Through the only window in her room, the pitch-black night faded into a navy morning. Six hours of lying in bed, unmoving so as not to irritate the welts forming on her back. The bell that signifies grand silence and the start of the day rings four times. Sohee waits until the fourth and final bell ends before she makes any move to get out of bed.
Maybe it is in her head, but Eunseok’s eyes are burning holes into the back of her scalp throughout morning prayer and mass. She definitely eyes Sohee every time she takes a sip of water during breakfast. Sohee makes no move to acknowledge the looks. She has to remind herself to stop thinking about it. It is the beginning of the day, and she has already done it too often.
This is between them and God. Sohee is the judge of nobody but herself. She has her own sins to overcome, and she can only pray her sisters come to understand their own sins soon enough. She devotes her breakfast prayer to them.
“I didn’t see you at the chapel this morning.” Eunseok’s morning voice scratches its way out of her throat and towards Sohee.
“Excuse me?” Sungchan lifted her head from her plate for the first time since she sat down.
She and Eunseok are in the same seats they always sit, sides practically soldered together like they always are. Maybe they saw nothing, heard nothing. Maybe they don’t care. Sohee is pulled out of her own thoughts before she had time to realize she had even fallen into them again.
“Sister Sohee. I normally see her there on my extra-early visits.” Eunseok explains to Sungchan, eyes still on Sohee, searching for something Sohee will not give. “Not today.”
Her raspy voice becomes lower, accusatory; Sohee crosses her legs.
“I woke up late.” She answers in-between two sudden big spoonfuls of oatmeal. An attempt to glue her rising stomach acid back down.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Are you feeling alright?”
Eunseok and Sungchan ask almost simultaneously. Sohee asks the Lord to guide her as she swallows down the cement-like gruel.
Sohee smiles. She knows it looks forced because the rounds of her cheeks don’t move. Her bottom lip doesn’t stretch upwards like her top lip, so she ends up awkwardly baring her bottom teeth. She holds the smile regardless and shrugs. “I’m fine. Just forgot the time is all.”
Neither of the sisters looks concerned by her. They just hum in understanding and nod as they go back to their food. A dreadful voice somewhere in the back of Sohee’s head told her she could have said anything and their reaction would have been the same. She loses the smile with another bite of oatmeal.
“What a shame.” Eunseok frowns. It’s exaggerated, like the painted face of a pierrot.
Sohee can’t shake the small voice that tells her she is being mocked. She can, however, quickly push away the thoughts of shoving the rest of Eunseok’s bagel so far back into her mouth that she can no longer move her face in any sort of way other than pained expressions.
Sungchan clears her throat. “Um, Sister Sohee, what are your plans today?”
Sohee welcomes the new line of conversation. “I’m supposed to help clean the community garden.”
“Right,” Sungchan draws out the word. “A bunch of sisters are doing that.”
Sohee is both eager and dreading it. Eager in a sense that she can have some distance between the two sisters whom she can’t yet look in the eye. Yet, still, she dreads being out of the convent walls. The outside world chips at her, little by little until there is a hole big enough to invite disguised sin. She must conquer the tests God gives her in the convent before she can truly face anything else.
It’s quiet at the table. Each sister picks at their food and contemplates something unknown to the rest. Sohee becomes increasingly aware of all the nuns occupying the same room. Conversing, praying, eating, working towards something greater just for existing as they do.
“Do you think you could skip that and come help me instead?” Sungchan’s eyes droop and brows knit together.
“I’d have to talk to Mother—” Sohee starts, but Sungchan cuts her off.
“Or you could speak to the vicaress instead?”
Sungchan refers to herself. The temporary Assistant Mother Superior, taking Shotaro’s old title. Sungchan smiles proudly, almost identical to one of Eunseok’s smug smirks.
Eunseok huffs out a small laugh and slowly shakes her head as she leans back, arms crossed. Sohee expects a comment after the deliberate moves, but one never comes. Sungchan pretends she didn’t hear anything, still looking to Sohee in anticipation.
Sohee feels her fate has already been set, regardless of any answer. “What do you need help with?”
“Mother Kim wasn’t organized at all. Honestly, I hate to say it, her office is abysmal. All the paperwork is just piled up anywhere, with no rhyme or reason. It’s sad, really.” Though Sungchan's voice sounds full of pity, a subtle arrogance undermines everything she says.
“It would be great if you helped me organize the place for Mother Shotaro.”
“Mother Shotaro isn’t helping?”
“She’s still working in the vicaress’s office.” Eunseok explains.
Sungchan interjects so she can explain in her own way. “She was closest to the late mother. It’s probably hard for her to enter the office.”
“Or she knows it’s just a temporary position.”
Sungchan ignores Eunseok again. She smiles at Sohee. It’s always raised just ever so slightly, lacking any wrinkles forming around her mouth or eyes. The same amiable smile, no matter the conversation. “Will you help?”
Sohee wonders how Sungchan can have such superb control over her face. What she must have done to train her smile to always sit the same way.
“Yeah, I will.” Even though her mind says otherwise, Sohee agrees, because anything else would ultimately be a rejection of her superiors.
“Great!”
Eunseok collected her tray, swiftly stood, and moved to exit; her shoulder bumped into Sungchan's with some vigor.
“Oops,” Eunseok still walks off, not stopping, but offering a lame wave behind her. “So sorry about that.”
Whatever the underlying cause for the sarcasm evident in Eunseok's statement, Sohee finds solace in it not seeming to be intended for her. Though Sungchan says nothing in response, just watches Eunseok leave.
She is such a mystery now, they both are, but Sohee would not imagine Sungchan to ever be so tightly wound around the devil’s finger.
With Sungchan’s eyes elsewhere, Sohee stares at her profile. Perfectly proportioned facial features, even just the side of her face. She could have been a model if not for the conviction of the Lord keeping her rooted in the convent. Sohee doesn’t close her eyes, but she prays. Prays for Sungchan to find her conviction once again.
When Eunseok is out of sight, Sungchan turns back to Sohee with her same smile. “Four o’clock, meet me at the office.”
—
The Abbess's office is slightly ajar when Sohee gets there. It’s one forty-nine, she thought she’d be the early one. Then Sungchan’s grunts and groans spill out the crack of the front door. They are loud, a little heavy in breath. Sohee stands at the door, unmoving, as her thoughts bring her back to the late-night chapel. Sungchan’s body being undone by Eunseok’s fingers. The huffs and moans and grunts and groans.
Matthew chapter eighteen, verse fifteen. If your brother sins, go and point out his fault, just between the two of you.
If this is what Sohee is being called to do, so be it. She received another chance to expose her sisters to the light, and this time there is no darkness she can run away into. Sohee pushes her shoulders down and back, craning her neck to give herself a few added centimeters of height.
With no hesitation and no time to overthink, Sohee barges through the door.
Contrary to her suspicions, no illicit activity is happening when she enters. Just a heaving Sungchan unceremoniously dropping a box of files onto the floor, it hits the ground with a hard thud. Sungchan is alone, catching her breath. Her bright pink face untwists into a smile when she notices Sohee at the door.
“Sister Sohee! I’m so happy to see you.”
Sungchan beams as she holds out her arms to gesture at all the boxes on the ground. Sohee counts six of them in her immediate overview of the place. Bookshelves line the further half of the room, but the top two rows of each one's empty. The room looks more like a mess than it probably already was.
“What are you doing?” Sohee asks. Half of her mind is on the moment at hand; the other half still resides in the situation Sohee assumed she’d be dealing with. She absentmindedly makes the sign of the cross, blessed to have been wrong.
“I came earlier to bring all these boxes down. Hopefully, it’ll make sorting all these papers a little easier.”
The comment brings Sohee’s mind back to attention. Files at least a quarter of an inch thick fill each box. Sohee feels a phantom pain in her lower back just thinking of Sungchan bringing them all down on her own.
“You did all this?”
Sungchan performs a modest flex of her bicep through her habit. “Light work. You gain a lot of muscle working as the Catholic school’s gym coach.”
Sohee makes an ‘o’ with her mouth but can’t bring herself to really respond. While yesterday’s Sohee would have taken inspiration from the explanation, today’s Sohee sees it more as a humble brag at best.
She's captivated by how quickly the acknowledgment of sin twisted her understanding of Sungchan's character. Would it be the same if Sungchan had stolen or gotten drunk? All sins are equal in the eyes of God, and Lee Sohee is fatefully aware she is not the last call for judgment. It’s supposed to be God. Then Matthew 8:15 flashes through her memory. She is unsure which is the right rule to follow.
“You can start sorting the papers on the desk; I’ll go through the folders and toss what we don’t need.”
Sungchan points at the desk as she kneels to go through her first box, and Sohee realizes she finally has the time to take in her surroundings properly. Which really isn’t much.
Besides the bookshelves, a decently sized wooden desk sits in the middle of the broadloom carpeted floor. There are miscellaneous papers scattered over the surface, piles of ripped envelopes and folded notes mixed in with what look like important documents. As Sohee takes her seat on the quaint stool, she notices papers sticking out from most of the drawers, too.
Sohee never questioned it before, but with how reclusive the late Mother was in her last weeks, Sohee wonders if her mental health had also been on the decline. Gradually, so inconspicuous that maybe she hadn’t ever realized herself.
As she pulls the stool forward, Sohee’s feet bump into something underneath the desk. A quick peek and she instantly knows what it is. It’s too familiar to forget. A large leather trunk, squeezed as far back as its size would allow. Inside lay all the objects from the old Vatican traditions.
Remnants of the old forced habits, such as cinctures and heavier veils, sit inside. As well as yardsticks and scourges used for discipline. One of which now resides in Sohee’s room, under her bed.
“Galatians chapter five, verses twenty-two and twenty-three: But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law”
“self-control. People tend to forget this one, Sister Sohee, but I see it plagues you the most.”
Sohee physically shakes the memory out of her head.
After some time and employing a few different strategies to sort through everything, Sohee separated the chaotic mess of papers into piles. The prayer request and Vatican notice piles are where most of the papers go; while the funds and donations piles remain sparse.
When the desk is clear, Sohee moves on to the center drawer. Most of the papers are easily sortable, or old menus from town restaurants that don’t exist anymore. Sohee tosses those.
Then there’s an envelope, barely keeping together all the crumpled papers shoved inside. Unraveling each one, Sohee notices a pattern. Amidst two Vatican notices regarding worries about shrinking congregation numbers, there is a notice outlining the declining enrollment and possible consolidation of Saint Joseph’s School. The primary beneficiary that kept, well, most everything a-float.
The paper, originating from the district, is over two months old. Nevertheless, Sohee had not heard anything regarding this. This is a matter for the church's prayer and planning. This should—
“What is it?” Sungchan’s sudden acknowledgment pulls Sohee’s gaze to her.
Sohee gawks for a moment, unsure how to address a problem that may or may not be happening.
“These?” Sohee holds up the papers. “They’re… I’m not sure—”
“Then why are you looking at it like this?” Sungchan squeezed her eyebrows together tight, pursed her lips, and dropped her jaw slightly. It’s ridiculous-looking, and Sohee can only hope Sungchan is exaggerating the expression.
“I think it might be… financially concerning?”
“Give it here.”
Sungchan holds her hand out and beckons the papers to be handed over. Sohee hands over only the paper from the district. She isn’t sure herself why she holds onto the Vatican notices, her only reasoning being that it might be too much uncertainty all at once.
Sungchan’s eyes thoroughly scan the paper from top to bottom. Sohee looks for a tell: raised eyebrows, wide eyes, maybe a gasp. Instead, Sungchan simply files the paper into a box.
“I’ll speak with Mother about it, but it’s in God’s hands. He will guide us in the right direction.” She says, moving onto another box to sort through.
That is it. No explanation given. If she even had any to give.
“Hey,” Sungchan calls to her, as if she could read Sohee’s mind. “It’ll be okay, sister.” She says it like she means it. Sohee remains unconvinced.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. “Yeah, I know.”
Sohee and Sungchan complete the rest of the cleaning in small chatter about last Sunday’s sermon; Sungchan leads most of the conversation. Sohee sorts, and once Sungchan is done with the boxes, she takes the piles from the desk to place in the cleaned-out files. The words Sohee read still cling to the forefront of her mind as she cleans up the trash.
…with declining numbers and insufficient funding, the future operation of Saint Joseph’s Convent comes into question. We suggest asking the congregation to make preparations for relocation, given the projected drop of local community members in the coming years.
Relocation. The word repeats over and over. Sohee hates it. When she has no more trash to throw away, she pulls at the excess skin on her hand. Relocation.
“Oh,” Mother Shotaro makes her appearance known at the entrance. “The door was unlocked; now that makes sense.”
Sungchan dramatically gasps. She teetered on a stepstool, nearly dropping the box she was trying to put back up. Mother Shotaro reaches out to help, then bursts into a fit of laughter once Sungchan regains her balance.
A lot is happening at once, but Sohee doesn’t really pay any attention to it. The fairy woman from the band, the one with long brown hair tied into a ponytail, whom Sohee had only met yesterday. Toni. She's standing behind Shotaro. She hunches over as if she thinks she can hide her tall body behind the Mother Superior.
“Sister Sungchan, Sister Sohee, this is Chanyoung.” Shotaro acknowledges that the woman behind her is in fact real, Sohee hasn’t hallucinated her, and it makes her even more confused.
Toni, or Chanyoung, simply holds up her hand in a still hello gesture. Sungchan mimics it, and Sohee can’t bring herself to do anything but stare. Chanyoung stares back. It’s a little… perturbing.
“The newest member of our convent.”
Shotaro sounds excited; Sungchan gasps as if it is a miracle.
Sohee can’t pinpoint why she feels so exposed right now. Like she is back in the elementary school principal's office after being in a fight. It’s a nervousness that makes her skin feel icy. A cold bitterness from being caught, being embarrassed. She chalks it all up to intense confusion.
“What is it you two are doing here?” Shotaro asks as she takes in the room's sights. Her smile twitches. Sohee thinks maybe Eunseok was right, and all of this was not worth the effort nor any of the revelations.
Sungchan answers before Sohee can even take in the question. “Cleaning out the office, making it a little nicer for when you decide to move in.”
“Well, um… this is a perfect coincidence!” Shotaro laughed. “Sister Sungchan, will you please show Sister Chanyoung to the dining area?”
“Of course!” Sungchan surely has her own questions, but she’ll always prioritize her superiors before herself. She puts on a friendly smile and introduces herself as she guides Chanyoung out the door.
Chanyoung takes one look back over her shoulder, one more look at Sohee. It sends a small ripple of goosebumps down Sohee’s arms.
“Can I speak with you?” Shotaro’s attention is entirely on Sohee.
The goosebumps on Sohee’s arms rose higher. She only nods. Shotaro heads to the stool and sinks into it with a long sigh. It sounds slow, breathy, almost dejected. Sohee wants to ask how much she’s slept, but it’s not her place; it’d be weird coming from her. Anyway, she has a couple of different questions that would come before it.
“Sister Chanyoung? She played at the show last night with her band. They called her Toni. What’s going on?”
“If I am being honest, sometimes I worry what God has planned for this little congregation of ours,” Shotaro laments, as if she’s winding up to a bigger point. “Then he gives us little sneak peeks of what he has in store, and I only end up more confused.”
She laughs, and just like the twitch in her smile, it feels like a warning sign. Sohee smiles to offer some understanding, but her fingernails scratch at her palms, eager to know what Mother Shotaro is getting at.
“More confused, but hopeful. His plan is greater than we will ever know.” Her warm, genuine smile thaws some of Sohee’s icy nerves. “Sister Chanyoung told me she had met you yesterday. I was actually hoping you could guide her through the convent for the next couple of weeks.”
Toni, or Sister Chanyoung, who was in a band at a community talent show less than a full day ago, is now a part of the convent. Sohee plays back the statement to take it in, but none of the pieces really fit properly together. Whatever God’s plan is for her, he keeps it very close to his chest.
“Me?”
Shotaro’s smile grew; Sohee’s question must be humorous. “You can ask a sister for help, of course.”
“No, no, I got it,” Sohee hastily reassures. “I was just making sure I had, y’know, the whole picture.”
Shotaro rests her arms on the desk, taking in her surroundings once again. Her eyes are pensive, scanning the area as if she’s searching for something. Being in the late Mother’s office must bring back memories for Shotaro, as it did for Sohee.
“Sister Chanyoung shows strong dedication. I think you’ll be a perfect nudge in the right direction.”
It’s too strong a praise of Sohee’s character, one she hasn’t earned. However, it would be idiotic to waste yet another chance at proving herself.
“Thanks, Mother.”
“Ah,” Shotaro wags her finger at Sohee. “We were sisters when we met; no need to call me mother when it is just us.”
Sohee wonders if it is insecurity, cautiousness, or something else entirely that keeps Shotaro so detached from the label.
“You think the Vatican will appoint somebody else?”
Shotaro shrugs. “God’s plan is greater than we will ever know.”
It truly is the answer to everything, Sohee supposes. The compactly folded Vatican notices she had stuffed away in her underwear elastic suddenly feel as though they are digging into her skin.
—
“So, are you a friend of Mother Shotaro’s? Or…”
The rest of the sentence fades off Sungchan’s tongue, waiting for Chanyoung to fill in the rest.
She sits across from Sohee and Chanyoung at the sister’s usual table in the dining hall. Slightly tucked into Eunseok’s left side, per usual.
Chanyoung is sitting similarly close to Sohee. If Sohee could scoot any further away, she would be at risk of falling off the bench and causing a scene. She just has to deal with the tingle that accompanies every brush of their elbows as they eat.
Sungchan still stares eagerly at Chanyoung, awaiting a response. Chanyoung shakes her head, harshly swallowing down her food so she can quell the anticipation faster.
“No. I just met her today, actually. She’s so nice.”
“Have you been sent from another convent?” Sungchan quickly asks her next question. Sohee imagines she has about a thousand lined up and ready on the tip of her tongue.
Chanyoung puts her spoon down. Perhaps she realized she’d have no time to eat with all the attention pointed to the brand-new sister.
“Uh, no, this is a kind of spur-of-the-moment thing.”
“So, no congregation approval needed?”
“What she means to say is: Hello, nice to meet you, welcome to Saint Joseph’s.” Eunseok interjects. It’s flat and exaggerated.
“Of course I told her that earlier!” Sungchan lightly hit her arm. “It’s just so sudden. Normally, it’s such a lengthy process with a lot of visits and deep spiritual consideration—”
“Her name is Sungchan.” Eunseok interjects once again.
Sungchan hits her arm a little harder, and Sohee stares at the smirk unwavering from Eunseok’s lips.
“She knows!” Sungchan waves her off and smiles back at Chanyoung. “Sister Sungchan or Vicaress Sungchan, whichever you prefer.”
“The other sisters will be all over you soon with the same questions, just forewarning. Considering we haven’t had any new nuns since Sister Sohee.” Eunseok waves her spoon at Chanyoung.
Sohee takes a quick look around the cafeteria to see a few glances being thrown towards their table. It is not uncommon for nuns to whisper most of their conversations, but Eunseok is right, and Sohee has an idea on what they’re all talking about.
“For five years?” Chanyoung gasps.
Sohee, merely watching the interactions like a riveting ping-pong match, realizes Chanyoung is looking at her with a small smile and big, analyzing eyes. She leans forward, ever so slightly, just as she had during the nun’s performance at the community center.
Sohee is surprised that Chanyoung remembered such a minuscule detail from their talent show small talk. Shotaro was right, Chanyoung must be very dedicated.
Unable to see anything but those eyes, Sohee turns to her food and takes some lame interest in stirring her stew. “Oh, yeah, that’s right.”
Eunseok laughs, leans into the table, and takes the fat of Sohee’s cheek between her thumb and forefinger. She pinches and coos.
“Guess you’re not our baby anymore.”
Sohee endures the pinching for a couple seconds longer before lightly swatting the hand away. Still, Eunseok persists in her small laughter.
“The town keeps getting smaller too; less interest in rural life over the years.” Sungchan tries to explain the lack of new nuns to Chanyoung in a more logical way.
“Who can blame ‘em.” Eunseok gives her two-cents, and before Sungchan can respond, she turns the attention back to Sohee. “Am I gonna see you at extra early Bible study in the morning?”
Extra early Bible study? It sounds like a joke coming from Eunseok. If she’s truly so attentive to Sohee’s morning whereabouts then she would know it’s nothing more than a little extra prayer time. For Sohee. Only.
“I–”
“Extra early bible study? Um, should I go to that?”
Chanyoung’s small voice is so close to Sohee’s ear that she might as well have been holding a megaphone. It digs into the grooves of Sohee’s brain, pulling at the nerves. Sohee imagines roughly shoving her onto the floor, out of the convent. It would be selfish, rude, but Sohee thinks one less change could bring back some peace.
“The more, the merrier.” Eunseok exclaims, cherrier than Sohee has heard in all the years of knowing her.
“It’s not mandatory.” Sohee says into her stew. The words come out rigid and immature. To everyone else she must look like a pouting child. It irks her more.
Chanyoung lets out a disappointed hum. “Mother Shotaro told me you would show me the ropes around here… So, maybe I should…”
“You’re showing her the ropes?” Sungchan blurts the question as if some other entity forced the words out of her.
Sohee slowly nods. “Mother Shotaro asked me to, so yes?”
“Interesting,” Eunseok mumbles into her cup.
This, or any other minor detail Sohee maybe didn’t pick up on, must have been Sungchan’s final straw. She takes a deep inhale through her nose before setting her smile on Sohee.
“If you ever need anything. I’ll always be around to help!” Sungchan’s over-enthusiasm is stiff. She picks up her empty tray before anyone can say anything else. “Excuse me.”
Eunseok waits a couple of minutes after Sungchan has left the room to get up herself.
“Now I have to go tame the beast you just poked.” She smiles at Chanyoung. “Good to meet you.”
“You too!” An awkward laugh accompanies Chanyoung’s reply. When Eunseok is out of hearing range, she leans in even closer to whisper to Sohee. “She never even introduced herself.”
Sohee is stuck on Eunseok’s parting words. I have to go tame the beast. Eunseok always speaks weird, vague expressions that make no sense. However, with last night’s context, Sohee can’t shake the feeling of knowing what impending sin might occur. Chanyoung’s warm breath tickling her ear only furthers the sick feeling Sohee is experiencing.
“Yeah, that’s Sister Eunseok,” Sohee lamely replied. Mentally, she is a thousand miles away from her body.
“Has she always—”
“One moment please.”
Unable to stand the warmth spreading from her ear to her neck, unable to ignore what Eunseok and Sungchan are trying to do behind God’s back, Sohee gets up; she exits the cafeteria with an avid pace. She thinks she hears Chanyoung say something about waiting, but she doesn’t linger on it.
“Eunseok,” Sohee calls out, maybe deeper down hoping it is too quiet for Eunseok to hear and she misses her chance.
“Me?” Eunseok sounds pleasantly surprised as she turns around. She’s smirking again, like Sohee’s appearance always brings some amusement along with it.
“I wanted to—I think you should know, um…” I will fear no evil, for you are with me. “I’m praying for you.”
Sohee hates how timid her voice sounds to her own ears.
“No thanks.”
“What?”
Eunseok curses under her breath. “You heard me. Pray for someone that actually wants your prayers. I’m sure Shotaro or Sungchanie would appreciate them greatly. I don’t need ‘em.”
Eunseok gives her an exaggerated pout. She goes to pinch Sohee’s cheek, but stops once Sohee braces for it. She sighs, as if she is the one enduring right now. “Focus on the plank in your own eye before coming to me. Isn’t that Sunday School 101?”
Sohee isn’t sure what she’s supposed to say anymore, or what Eunseok is even doing in the convent at all for that matter. She watches Eunseok continue on her way, calm as ever, and the urge to lunge at her like a wild animal passes through Sohee’s body into her balled up fists.
Sohee doesn’t know how much time passes as she is left to stand alone, unsure of the next step.
Chanyoung’s small voice brings her back to. “Sohe—Sister Sohee?”
Sohee wordlessly turns to face her.
“I cleaned off the table.” Even though she’s smiling, it is weak, and there is a hesitation in her speech. It is familiar. It is irritating.
Sohee’s hold on her fists ease up, until her blunt nails are able to scratch at her palms. She can’t be like Eunseok, so wrapped up in her own web of sin that she doesn’t see how it catches and infects the others around her. Sohee is Chanyoung’s introduction to God’s grace, his mercy, and his answers to life.
“I was wondering if you could give me a tour of the grounds before it gets too dark?”
Chanyoung fidgets with her fingers in front of her, teetering on the balls of her feet.
“Yeah, sure.”
—
Most of the buildings are closed after dinner, still Sohee shows what she can. Chanyoung’s tiny heels clack against the cobblestone path as Sohee gives her the breakdown of every building they stop at.
Sohee does all the talking. Chanyoung nods along, oohs and ahs when appropriate, giggles at things Sohee didn’t mean to be funny. It brings a new air of confidence to Sohee, one she hasn’t felt in herself for a while. Chanyoung seems eager for this new chapter of her life, and it only encourages Sohee to nurture her enthusiasm.
“Here is where we sleep.”
Sohee swings her arms out to showcase the nun’s quarters. It’s a considerably large hollow square, with a modest garden in the middle of the four brick walls containing the nun’s apartments.
Inside, the entryway's beige walls greet them immediately. The room is bare, with nothing but a portrait of Mother Mary on the far side of the room. She pays no mind to the people who come and go; her gaze transfixed on the swaddled Jesus, a newborn miracle.
Chanyoung clears her throat, and Sohee turns her head to see Chanyoung with two decently sized chrome suitcases at her sides. Sohee puts aside the bewilderment at missing them when she walks in, because Chanyoung’s face is far too happy to know she shouldn’t have brought anything with her.
“What is that?” Sohee wants to hear it from Chanyoung.
“My stuff?”
Chanyoung’s brows knit together; she grips the handles of her luggage tighter. Sohee realizes right then that while she came into the convent with some understanding of what was expected, Chanyoung is coming in semi-blind. Sohee wants to ask why that is, but the question sits heavy on her tongue. It feels too prying, too personal. The idea to bring it up to Mother Shotaro instead sounds a lot easier. That is, if Sungchan hadn’t gotten to her first and come bearing all the answers during breakfast.
Ah. Just like Mother Kim did with her, Sohee is going to have to rip off the harder parts of being a nun like a bandage.
“You don’t need that. You don’t need those things anymore. We have everything you need here.”
Sohee takes a few steps forward. Her stilted, bottom-teeth bearing smile spreads across her lips to offer some sympathy. To Chanyoung, she must look like some sort of malfunctioning robot, awkwardly moving her hands around before she finally settles her palms gently on top of Chanyoung’s hands. After the sting of the bandage rip, some comfort should be provided. Sohee is trying her best to supply that.
Even with the clumsy attempt, Chanyoung’s expression falls, and her grip on the suitcases loosens.
“That’s fine.” Chanyoung doesn’t blink, and Sohee forgets to lift her hands. “I’ll just…put them under my bed.”
Chanyoung’s voice sounds far away; her eyes are blank, gentle, warm, and boring into Sohee. Sohee can only take it for so long before she forces out a single laugh and shifts her eyes to look anywhere else. Chanyoung laughs with her. At her?
Lord, help me get it together. Sohee takes in everything around them. The quiet whirring of the air vents, the stippled ceiling, the thin, subatomic layer of atoms that separates their hands from truly touching. Keen to escape it, Sohee moves her palms under the handles and pulls the luggage closer to her.
“I’ll take them.”
Chanyoung tilts her head, long ponytail flopping at her side. Her lips curl into a confused pout.
“Don’t you want to be a nun? Sister Chanyoung?” Sohee recognizes the mixed cadences of Sungchan and Eunseok in her own voice. A light teasing tone with just enough edge to (hopefully) demand some authority.
“Yes. I do, yeah.” Chanyoung’s head nods about as fast as the words tumbling out of her mouth.
“Then this is your first test.”
Sohee heads straight down the left hallway, luggage in tow. She doesn’t need to look back to make sure Chanyoung is following; her hurried steps clack closely behind. Near the end of the hallway Sohee spots a door with a bronze crucifix hanging where there hadn't been one before, indicating a new room has been made up.
“Here we are.”
Chanyoung doesn’t open the door. She examines the crucifix. Sohee wants to hear her thoughts, but she won’t ask for them outright.
“Luke fourteen thirty-three. Do you know it?”
Chanyoung hums for a second before grimacing and shaking her head. “Not off the top of my head.”
“Those of you who do not give up everything cannot be my disciples.” Sohee paraphrases. “Remember that verse when you miss any of your old things. I’ll put them under my bed so you can’t get to them so easily.”
Chanyoung doesn’t say anything, but her eyes droop. They linger on the suitcases in Sohee’s possession. Sohee wants to laugh at such a novice reaction.
“Then, I guess if you want to pack up and quit, you can always ask to grab them.”
Sohee, being the superior between them, feels comfortable enough to tease the new sister just a bit.
Chanyoung gives her a sidelong glance. “Where is your room?”
“Pretty close.” Sohee points to three doors down on the opposite side of the hall. “Why? You think you’re going to quit so soon?”
Chanyoung scoffs. Sohee knows the comment came across a little too cocky, but it is for Chanyoung’s benefit. She shoots Chanyoung a glare.
“Not at all,” Chanyoung is staring again.
Sohee now knows she can’t take it for too long. Chanyoung’s sparkling eyes, which she notes will go away with the removal of her eyeshadow, try to reach for Sohee’s. The stare somehow brings up her fight-or-flight response. Sohee’s body urges her to move out of sight; her mind urges her to find a new topic of conversation. She takes a big huff and claps her hands, creating some finality to this entire night.
“Okay, so, I’ll take these. You get situated. Everything in the room is self-explanatory. Your habits will be in the closet; you have a few nightgowns and toiletries in there too,” Sohee lists off the necessities. “This is an old building, so you go down this hall and to your left are the bathroom and shower stalls.”
Sohee nods once to make sure Chanyoung got all that. Chanyoung nods back. Good.
“And give me those.” She points at Chanyoung’s small heels. “I’ll lend you a pair of comfortable shoes in the morning.”
Chanyoung obliges, bending down to unbuckle her shoes.
“Will you wake me up for your early Bible study?” She asks. Her face is too close to the ground for Sohee to gauge her expression, but her tone sounds unsteady, nervous.
Ugh. Sohee had hoped that between dinner and now Chanyoung’s brain would have absorbed too much new information and forgotten about early morning prayer. A strictly Sohee thing.
Sohee hums, pretending to give her thoughts some consideration. “Maybe you should get as much sleep as you can on your first night here.”
“I want the full experience. I want to be there.” Chanyoung’s eyes plead as she holds out her heels for Sohee to take. “Will you wake me?”
Either Chanyoung isn’t able to take a polite hint, or Sohee is terrible at giving them. She blames her mother for raising her with such a sincere voice.
“You’ll only have three knocks to get up or I’m leaving without you.”
Chanyoung’s smile brightens, similar to Shotaro's; its shine casts a horribly blinding light down onto Sohee. She blinks rapidly just to get a few milliseconds of shade.
“I’ll be up before the second knock.”
Even with all the difficulty Chanyoung unknowingly put her through, there is an unexplainable peace that settles into Sohee; it makes her head feel lighter, she can’t suppress a smile of her own. Too much pride is a sin, but if Sohee keeps the happiness to herself, she is no-doubt in the clear.
Sohee nods, considering this a good place to end their conversation for the night as she moves to haul the luggage into her room.
“Goodnight!” Chanyoung suddenly calls after her.
“Goodnight, Sister Chanyoung.”
She can hear Chanyoung giggling to herself as she enters her room. Just like everything else about her so far, it’s soft and somewhat confusing.
Sohee heaves the two suitcases under her bed as soon as she shuts her bedroom door behind her. The luggage fights against the wood of the bed frame, but with one hard kick each, it nestles in perfectly.
There is nothing Sohee wants to do more than jump into bed and fall into blissful sleep for the night. Before even thinking about that, she has to brush her teeth, and before even thinking about that, she has to pray.
Sohee kneels in front of her bed and raises her eyes to the crucifix—Chanyoung should have an identical one in her room; she could be looking at it right now—she says five Hail Marys while also trying to gather her thoughts.
Father, coincidences can be divine providence, or they can be just coincidences. Right? Is all of this you? Is it something else?
Sohee waits for a response she knows isn’t coming. It’s never that easy.
She pauses her prayer with a sigh, reaching up her skirt to grab the folded Vatican notices. With her eyes closed, thoughts far away, the sensation of her fingers brushing against her leg makes her involuntarily twitch just a bit.
Sohee quickly stuffs the papers into the small gap between the suitcases. She folds her hands and pushes her knuckles into her forehead as she goes back to praying.
Let my doubts be silenced and my heart be open to you. I can do this through you.
Psalm twenty-three, verse four. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.