Chapter 22: Honor Thy Father and Mother
“Mom, hey,” Buffy spoke into her phone, surprised that her mother had actually called her. Sparing a glance at her roommate, she turned around as if it gave her a bit of privacy.
“Listen, I can’t talk long,” her mother said on the other line, “but I wanted to know what’s going on.”
“What do you mean?” she sat on her bed in her room, tugging on the hem of William’s t-shirt she was wearing, one that she stole from the hotel room.
“I got an email from that new priest, what’s his name? Father Caden or something?”
“Caleb,” she rolled her eyes.
“Whatever. Anyway, he said that there was some parent teacher night coming up and that I was required to attend.”
“That’s usually how those things work. Many parents actually take an interest in their children’s lives,” she said coolly.
“Don’t get so sentimental,” her mother laughed. “Why on earth would your father and I fly from Paris to Los Angeles to mingle with those idiots?”
Buffy sighed and held the phone away from her ear as her mother prattled on about how inconvenient everything was. “Well, it’s not like I thought you’d come anyhow.”
“You aren’t really upset, are you?”
“No, Mom. Why would I be upset that I haven’t even seen you guys since last summer?” her sarcasm went unnoticed by her mother.
“That’s what I thought. You teenagers have your own lives. I mean, you’re practically an adult already, why do you need us nipping at your heels? It’s not like you’d want to be around the old folks,” she laughed as if she were absolutely hilarious.
Buffy closed her eyes. “So, what’s the big deal, then? You aren’t coming, why bother calling?”
“It’s just that this Father Caleb was very insistent upon us attending and I wanted to hear from you how persuasive I need to be with this one. Father William was always so gruff with me on the phone.”
“He was?” she smiled, snuggling into her pillows. “What did he say?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Buffy” she huffed, obviously inconvenienced by having to extrapolate. “But I can see why he’s not a priest any more. You know he called me a heartless bitch?”
Buffy covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. “He did not!”
“Yes, he did, and I had half a mind to stop paying tuition after that little conversation.”
“When was this?”
“Just before Christmas when we called the school to let them know we couldn’t get you.”
Buffy bit her lip, feeling misty eyed that he’d tried to stand up for her, during a time that they were temporarily separated. God, she missed him. “Well, I’m sure you did nothing to provoke it.”
“I didn’t,” she said defiantly. “I mean, honestly, Buffy…can you blame your father and I for taking advantage of all this free time? It’s like a second honeymoon.”
“An eighteen-year honeymoon,” she mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about Father Caleb. He’s kind of an asshole but I’m sure if you tell him that you’re out of the country he won’t mind.” She craned her head over her shoulder and smiled slightly at her roommate who was laughing from her assessment of their new priest.
“I hope you’re right. I should go. Oh, did you get your presents?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Oh, that’s Cindy on the other line. We’re meeting at the opera house in an hour and I haven’t even done my hair!”
“Gosh, you must be a wreck,” Buffy said in mock interest.
“I’ll talk to you later. Your Dad says hi.”
“Yeah. Bye.” She placed her phone on the cradle and smiled, not even caring about the insensitive conversation that took place. She was beaming that William had the balls to call her mother a heartless bitch. Because she was. And that meant that it was time to reply to his letter. She might even give him a little something special.
“You just cursed on the phone with your mother,” her roommate, Pamela, whispered as if the very notion was too appalling to say out loud.
“Yeah, so?”
“My mother would kill me.”
“My mother doesn’t give a shit.”
Pamela tucked her knees under her chin as she looked at her roommate who barely ever spoke to her. “You’re like, really complicated, huh?”
Buffy rolled her eyes and turned over on her bed, ending the conversation. “Go to sleep, Pamela.”
The following morning, Buffy ran to the school office to mail out her package before anyone saw her. As soon as she opened the mail room, Sister Margaret appeared and stopped her.
“Miss Summers, what are you doing in here?”
“Uh,” she paled, quickly tucking her package behind her back. “N-nothing. I was just, um…”
Sister Margaret pursed her lips knowingly and held out her hand. “What do you have behind your back?”
Buffy chewed on her lip nervously and for a second, she contemplated running. “I was just, um…I have this package,” she brought it around in front of her, plucking one corner of it with her fingers.
“You know we pick up student letters every Friday.”
“I know but, this is really important and I have to mail it now. Because, um…see, my friend is really sick and if he doesn’t get this letter before he dies then I’ll just feel awful!”
“How sick is he?” Sister Margaret feigned shock, knowing she was lying through her teeth.
“Very sick,” she nodded emphatically. “He’s got cancer. Of the blood. Bl-blood cancer.”
“Oh, my. That must be painful.”
“Oh, it is. So, you can see how it’s really important that I mail this as soon as possible.”
“How about this,” she said calmly as she walked closer. “I have to visit the hospital in an hour. Why don’t I take that to the post office for you? I’m sure it will arrive much faster that way.”
“Um…n-no, that’s ok.” Buffy started backing away, feeling the panic rise up into her throat. God, she was a terrible liar.
“Hand it over, Miss Summers,” she said sternly, not in the mood to play games.
With a reluctant sigh, she handed her the package, her left foot rocking back and forth as she fidgeted with her skirt.
Sister Margaret looked at her for a moment before she inspected the package. “Marrakech? You don’t say.” She smiled. “Did you know that’s where Father William is right now?”
“Who?” she said with what she hoped was convincing innocence.
Margaret rolled her eyes. “Father William. You only spent two years beneath him.”
She cleared her throat to cover up her gasp at the nun’s faux pas and nodded. “Yup. I sure did. Under his scrutiny and hateful glances. And God-like influence,” she laughed nervously.
“He didn’t hate you,” she said with concern. “Why would you say that?”
“Can I please have the package back, now?”
The nun tucked the large brown envelope beneath one arm and clasped her hands in front of her. “Would it be so difficult for you to be honest with me? I’m not an idiot.”
Buffy’s throat ran dry and her chest started heaving, feeling her world collapsing around her. God, if she knew…what did that mean? Would William be in more trouble? Would they kick her out of school? Who else knew?
“Wh-what are you talking about?”
With a sigh, she grabbed Buffy’s arm and led her down the hall to her bedroom. She looked both directions to make sure no one had seen them enter before she closed the door behind her.
“Sit down, please.”
“Are you going to tell?” Buffy suddenly felt very young, unable to stop her chin from quivering and her tears from falling.
“No dear,” she said kindly, hurriedly walking over to her to give her a comforting hug. “I’m sorry if I scared you. Please sit down.”
“Ok,” she said pathetically and wiped at her eyes with her sleeves as she sat down on the nun’s bed.
“This is for Father William, isn’t it?” she held the package in the air.
“Yes.”
“I thought so,” she sighed and sat down in a small chair across from her. “No one knows. At least, not that I know of. If they do, no one’s talked about it with me.”
“How? How did you know?”
“Well, um…” she blushed and smoothed her habit down nervously. “I might have…heard something once.”
Buffy covered her mouth and gasped, her eyes bulging out in embarrassment. “What do you mean? What did you hear? Oh my God! I mean, my gosh!”
“I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to discuss that. But I wisely avoided his office after school hours from that point on.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell someone what he was doing?”
“Because I might have been wrong. I only heard something, that doesn’t give me any proof.”
Buffy narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I don’t understand how a nun would keep something like that to herself.”
She chewed on her lip for a moment as she decided how to explain herself. “If we’re speaking boldly…”
“Be bold! I ask you, be bold!”
“All right. Well, I’ve known William for eight years now. And while we all adored him and would have been pleased if he stayed here with us, many of the sisters felt that William was unhappy. He was always so reserved and I think he only spoke to Janet, Lucy and I about anything other than Church or the students. Even that was like pulling teeth just to get him to open up a bit. The only thing that seemed to animate him, make him the slightest bit human, to be blunt…was if he spoke about you.”
She swallowed, processing this information. “He spoke about me?”
“All the time. From the moment you arrived here, he had his eyes set on you. He was so worried, was constantly speaking with your other teachers to keep tabs on your grades, and wanted to know everything about your progress. He constantly asked me how you were doing with the other students, with your roommates. Of course, we understood his concern considering your…well, we just understood.”
“Considering my what?” she tilted her head and folded her arms. “Tell me.”
“Your…parents,” she said carefully.
“Oh, please don’t hold back on my account,” she laughed. “I’m well aware how jacked up they are. You won’t hurt my feelings mentioning them.”
“Maybe not now, but when you arrived…well, that’s neither here nor there,” she waved her hands in the air, wanting to let bygones be and all that nonsense. “My point is that I’d always suspected that his attachment to you might grow. When he took you away for Christmas, I knew my suspicions were right.”
Buffy was silent for a long time, staring at the floor, unsure of what to say. Sister Margaret knew about them. Had known the whole time and never told a soul. She still didn’t understand why she’d kept their secret, nor did she know if she could trust her. All she could do was stare at the package that she still held beneath her arm and hope to God she didn’t open it.
“He is a good man,” she said abruptly, breaking her from her thoughts. “You know how they say everyone has a path in life?”
Buffy nodded, though Sister Margaret didn’t see. She wasn’t even sure if she was talking to her at this point.
“I don’t think William’s was here,” Margaret said softly. “I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did.”
“Well,” Buffy said with a deep inhalation of breath, not really comfortable talking about it any more. “I should probably…”
“Buffy,” she said sharply, turning wide eyes towards her. “If something happens…well, I mean, if you ever need to talk to someone, you can speak with me.”
“Ok,” she said slowly, slightly concerned about the nun’s abrupt change in mood.
“I hope that maybe I could share the same confidence with you.”
Now Buffy was really freaking out. What would she have to confide in an eighteen-year-old?
“S-sure, Sister Margaret. Are you, I mean…is everything ok?”
“Of course!” she said in a voice that was a little too chipper. “Everything is just fine, why would you think they weren’t?”
“I don’t—”
Before she could continue, a knock sounded from the other side of the door and Buffy noticed that Sister Margaret stiffened. Maybe she was just concerned about having a student in her bedroom, but it was something to consider for later.
“Come in,” she chimed, tucking Buffy’s package beneath her chair and hiding it with her long habit.
“Sister Mar—and Miss Summers,” Father Caleb said with surprise as he entered the bedroom. He was confused at first and then he smiled, a sort of knowing smile that sent shivers up Buffy’s spine. “Gosh, I hope I didn’t interrupt the girl talk,” he laughed, leaning against the door frame. “But isn’t this a coincidence?”
“Coincidence?” Buffy asked curiously.
“I’m just funnin’ ya,” he waved one hand in the air dismissively, his smile never leaving his face. “I don’t believe in coincidence. I was going to look for Miss Summers after I spoke with you, sister. I guess I killed two birds with one stone.”
Sister Margaret looked at Buffy and then to Father Caleb. “We were discussing a private matter, Father. And we were just finishing, weren’t we, Buffy?”
“Yes, Sister Margaret,” Buffy stood, thankful for the opening to leave.
Father Caleb rubbed his chin, his eyes twinkling as he considered the two women in the small room. “You know, confessional’s been awfully empty these last few weeks. Isn’t that funny? At first sight one might assume the word of the Lord was doin’ some good around here. But we all know that can’t be true. Because here you are, swappin’ stories an’ sharin’ secrets.”
“I have cramps!” Buffy blurted, grasping at straws to end wherever he was going with that.
Something about her exclamation amused Caleb and his lips twitched for a moment before they curled into a smile. “You’ll be late for morning mass, Miss Summers. Run along now so you don’t miss all the good seats.” He clasped his bible across his chest and stood to the side, indicating that she should leave.
With a final glance at Sister Margaret, whose eyes were now trained to the floor, Buffy dashed out of the room, ignoring the chill that shot through her when she brushed against the priest. As soon as she was in the hallway, she heard Sister Margaret’s door close. She turned around, expecting to see Father Caleb following behind her, but he was nowhere to be seen. He’d stayed in her room.
“I really don’t wanna know,” she said to herself and turned back around to run to the chapel.
“Miss Summers,” Father Caleb pulled Buffy aside as the students left the chapel.
“Yeah?”
“I’d like to speak with you if I could.”
“Um, ok,” she said nervously. “Did I do something wrong?”
He smiled at her, that tight-lipped, toothless smile that bordered on condescension. “Well, I guess it’s all in how you look at it, isn’t it?”
She blinked in confusion, desperately trying not to be afraid in his presence but found it was incredibly difficult when the grip on her arm tightened and he pulled her a bit inside. “Um…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Meet me in my office, please,” he said with raised eyebrows. “There are a few things we need to get sparkling clear.” The last part was said dark and low, his eyes burning into hers, letting her know exactly what kind of man he really was.
She started panting as her chest constricted, licked the sweat that formed from her upper lip, and struggled to stand as her body grew weaker. This wasn’t happening. This was not. Happening.
Without warning, Buffy’s body bent forward at the middle with a sharp jerk, and she vomited. All over Father Caleb. And the last two pews in the chapel.
A/N: Let me go ahead and dispel the myth that Buffy is pregnant. All you ‘vomit watchers’ out there, back up! She puked because she was scared to death. She’s not packin’ buns in the oven. Just sayin’.