Alice leaned her head on her pale, freckled hand and looked out the window of her classroom on the 3rd floor of St. Ignace’s Academy for Young Women, longing for adventure. It was three weeks from Christmas and the Cincinnati snow floated down ever so slowly, almost as slowly as her senior year was going by. Somehow turning eighteen at the beginning of the school year only added to the torture of waiting to leave.
Sister Catherine lectured on half-heartedly about Darwinism and the “accepted” theory of evolution. The strict old nun’s discomfort would have usually given Alice some respite from her boredom, but nothing could seem to break her malaise this afternoon. Even her fantasies of the trail could not seem to raise her spirits. Since the previous summer, she had planned to hike the length of the Appalachian Mountains after graduation. She longed for freedom, a challenge, and the independence that her parents, the church, and her school had deprived her of since she was a little girl. And her illicit plans for funding the trip were going perfectly. Even so, adventure seemed so far away from her on this grey, December afternoon.
A tall priest entering the classroom interrupted the unenthusiastic science lesson. Father Michael was a stern, severely anti-social man with thick brown and grey eyebrows that were constantly furrowed as he would glare at people through his blood-red colored eyeglasses. The students always joked that he had “resting murder face”, but aside from his position as head priest, no one knew anything about him. He insisted on being called Father Michael as opposed to his last name, but it was definitely not to be more approachable. The rumor was that he hated his family, but every detail about him was only a rumor. By the streaks of grey in his dark brown hair, one could guess that he was in his early fifties. If he stopped scowling for a moment, he could have been seen as very handsome, but Alice and everyone else, clergy included, were just afraid of him. He never gave sermons or spoke in general, but it was well known that his office was the last place on earth into which anyone would wish to be called.
He walked slowly and gracefully towards Sister Catherine, who quickly straightened and patted out any wrinkles in her habit. He passed her a note and whispered into the nun’s ear. She nodded rapidly, bowed her head, and said, “Of course, thank you.” As Father Michael stepped away, his head twisted with precision towards Alice and looked at her for a moment. There was something predatory about the look, like he was some kind of monster who’s cave she’d entered by mistake. She looked down as fast as she could and pretended to write on her notepad. By the time she looked up, the tall, narrow priest was walking out the door without giving the room a second glance.
The look remained on her mind for the rest of the day. Did he know? How? She comforted herself with the fact that he just looked at everyone that way and that no one could have found out what she’d been up to. She fell asleep soundly that night, having dreams of endless woods without a single image of the tall priest with blood-red glasses.
Alice spent all the following day awaiting Wednesday night mass. Not for the service, but for afterwards. She sat in the pews with her parents before the sermon and put on her best Catholic schoolgirl smile, giving no one a hint of what she was up to. Father Michael stood in a corner and listened to the main sermon about penance with a crooked smile. She’d never seen him smile before. It made her laugh silently to herself. Of course, the head of discipline would have a hard on for punishment. He probably used to tie women up before he joined the priesthood, she thought. A dampness appeared between her legs and she quickly shook the thought out of her head, confused about how it made her feel the way it did, and spent the rest of the sermon thinking only of the trail and becoming lost in the trees. And as the offering plates passed by filled with cash and envelopes, she knew she’d be that much closer to her adventure.
Alice said goodbye to her parents after mass. Her dad gave her yet another talk about being careful driving through the snow and hugged his little angel goodnight. Alice headed upstairs to a mildewy smelling financial office to help the even more mildewy smelling Sister Meredith count the church’s haul for the night.
The whole jig depended on the nearly blind, practically deaf, and almost dead Sister Meredith. The church needed a trustworthy assistant to help the poor old woman count and record the offerings after mass. Luckily, everyone recommended perfect, virginal little Ally for the job. Even luckier, Catholics like to have a shitload of masses.
Alice repeated her usual skim. Winter made it even easier to pocket a portion of the larger bills. She never allowed herself to become too greedy or too stupid. She kept everything modest while she listened to Sister Meredith fawn over her and repeatedly ask her about boys and plans for college. Alice finished up her report wondering how such a sweet, naïve old lady could ever have been placed in charge of counting money for one of the most ruthless organizations in human history when Father Michael walked in wearing that familiar crooked smile on his face. An Alter boy waited outside the office.
“Sister Meredith.”
The old nun popped up in surprise and attempted to speak. Though she could barely hear, his voice was unmistakable, for there was an underlying malice to it only partially covered up by professionalism and “holiness”. Alice simply froze and did her best to quell the trembling in her hands and in her thighs.
“Don’t trouble yourself, Meredith. Have you finished your report for the evening?”
“Yes, Father. Alice was just filing it now.”
“Excellent. I need to borrow her for a while. Anthony here will walk you to your car when you’ve finished.”
Alice's entire world was crashing down around her as Meredith thanked the old priest. He turned without looking at her and said, “Alice, follow me”.
She shook and could not look at anything but the wooden floor as she followed the tall priest down the hall towards his office. The bills in her jacket pocket crinkled with every shameful step. When they entered. He took her coat in a gentlemanly fashion and placed on the rack by the door without a second thought, then merely said, “Have a seat”, indicating an old leather chair opposite his own at a large wooden desk. He sat across from her; hands folded. Although she couldn’t look up, she could feel his glare through his red glasses on her.
He opened his laptop as she sat in silence. After a few clicks, he turned it around so Alice could see the screen. She knew it was all over for her when she saw a video of herself helping record the weekly offerings.
