“We’ll let her one day,” Sister Fidelis said, making a promise she would not keep. As my mom walked back, her shoulders slumped, I turned but didn’t know where to look, and my eyes fell on Sister Fidelis’s fingers rubbing one of her rosary beads like it was her last coin. She leaned slightly to my ear. “We’re going to break that rebellious spirit in you.” That day, I watched Linda Kendeson in the dress my mother made for me, bright as a light marching to the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Watching her, I felt something I didn’t expect. I realized I was happy for her; proud that my
...more
This sucks
