Convent Samantha

  My ears buzzed while the whisper of hushed praying spilled eerily my way.

  I shivered as a cold breeze whistled down the hall.

  It had been raining all night until now. The windows where foggy and sprinkled with raindrops .

  The air felt thick.

  Everything always smelled like death here. The deep earthy scent of dead wood, dying flowers all around all the time, and now the strong smell of incense floating down the halls announcing mother Odelia's passing.

  If I leaned forward and squinted my eyes hard enough in the dim light, I could see her coffin in the last room down the long candle lit corridor to my left. Surrounded by flowers. I already absolutely loathed the scent of white roses, now with more reason.

  I hadn't gone to see her. And I wasn't going to. What was the use? She was dead. It wouldn't make any difference if I went. Angry tears stung my eyes for what must've been the tenth time this morning, and for the tenth time I wiped them away furiously.

  I sighed, shuffling my feet uneasily against the grey floor as I sat on the large wooden bench outside of the main office. The one that just five hours ago had corresponded to Mother Odelia, and had now been assigned to sister Helena. The nun was filling out a mountain of papers, probably checking for any legal loopholes to make sure my new tutor had no way of returning me here.

  Mother Odelia had been declared dead at two in the morning, it wasn't even seven and there was already someone on their way to get me. And I couldn't blame the nuns. Now that she was gone, they were done pretending to be comfortable around me, not even bothering to keep me here long enough for the reverend mother's funeral. They wanted me out and gone as soon as possible.

  To her last minute of lucidness mother Odelia had repeated that I was to stay longer even in her absence. To the age of twenty one, to be precise. Who ever left me here all those years ago had made emphasis on that specific detail.

  My expenses were covered. I even received a monthly allowance for my personal spending since I turned 14 and began assisting to public school. But I had nothing outside of here, not any relatives that I knew of and not many friends either. Whoever had brought me here had been a complete stranger, because word around always said it hadn't even been my parents who dropped me off. And now I was gonna be kicked out like a pest.

  So much for the nuns keeping their word.

  I knew they didn't like me ever since I had use of reason. Don't get me wrong, I'd never felt hungry here, there was always a warm meal for me anytime in the kitchen. They never allowed me to be cold or dirty, having always supplied me with warm and clean clothes when needed. I was thankful for that, and I would take every job available to return the favor and show that I wasn't useless. I washed the dishes, kept the floors clean, the bookshelves dustless. Everything shiny clean, in an attempt to prove my worth and not be a burden, and trying to earn at least an ounce of approval from the women around me. But that never happened.

  I eventually became just as cold towards them, and as things evened, I had actually thought that we had reached some sort of neutral state. A quiet arrangement; stay out of our way, we stay out of yours.

  And it had worked.

  Until now.

  'I should've left last night' I thought to myself. I had a good amount of money saved for myself, since I never really had any chance to spend on anything. The only days I'd get out of here that weren't just to go to school were mondays in the afternoon to accompany one of the sisters on simple errands.

  I had a nice cellphone, maybe I could sell it. And then what? Sleep at the park? I shook my head. I needed out of here, but I couldn't be stupid about it.

  "Samantha?" A female voice called.

  I turned to the woman lazily, raising my eyebrows in a questioning manner at the yellow folder in her hands.

  "He's here to get you." She announced, frowning down at me.

  "Well, finally." I huffed as I stood up and hoisted my duffle bag strap over a shoulder. "You guys really are gonna give me up to the first stranger to turn up?"

  "He's trustworthy, Mother Odelia knew him, and he contacted us, not the other way around." Sister Helena said sharply, she looked at me for a second , and then continued in a much softer tone. "You don't belong here, Sam, and you know it... I know you can feel it, so please ,don't take this personal."

  I scoffed, yeah, right.

  She shot me my favorite disapproving look, but only said "Follow me."

I obeyed.

  Her shoes clicked annoyingly as we walked down the hall in the opposite direction to were mother Odelia's funeral had now just begun.

  Maybe it was better like this. I wouldn't be able to recite a prayer if I had a gun to the head anyway.

  I fought the urge to look back, and instead fixed my gaze on sister Helena's heels , wondering how the fuck she managed to make those flats sound like tap shoes.

  Behind her I barely made any noise with my vans sneakers, I was dressed in normal street clothes; fitted blue jeans, and a loose black shirt that read 'carpe diem' in faded, grafitti like letters. How poetically ironic. I was happy I'd finally get rid of the skirt and the tortorous flat shoes. I made a mental note to burn them as soon as I was out of here.

  As we reached the front door, another sister was waiting for us, already accompanied by a tall man.

  "Sister Nicole." Both of us greeted the girl.

  She was pretty new here, it hadn't even been a month since she arrived. Locks of blonde hair sneaked from under her coif and she kept trying to tuck them back discreetly. She was young, her light blue eyes still held a lively glint that most of the nuns here lacked.

  I drew my attention from the girl and locked eyes with the man next to her, we acknowledged each other with silent nods.

He looked amused.

  "Good morning, sir." Sister Helena greeted dryly and motioned to the side. " May I speak with you privately for a minute?"

  "Of course." He bowed slightly and gestured her to lead the way.

  I stole a glance at Nicole, she had the annoyingly cute habit of puckering her lower lip when her attention was set on something, and that something was the stranger. Apparently my young friend here hadn't paid attention to her vows, specially the 'pure and chaste mind' part. Because the way she was looking at the man was not chaste at all. I was way too familiar with the telltale sickly sweet scent that was now seeping through her pores.

  Lust.

  I wanted to laugh but held back.

  He was handsome, no denying that. He had a long clean shaven face, high cheekbones and a square jaw with a firm line that ended in a slightly pointed chin. His thin eyebrows were brought together as he concentrated on sister Helena's words. Icy blue eyes were looking forward but weren't focused on the nun, instead they fixed on some spot behind her . His head was cocked to the side and the amused expression remained on his features.

  He had longish black hair, just above the shoulders and was dressed in a plain navy blue button shirt, black dress pants and shiny black shoes.

  Nicole was probably checking out the way his arm and chest muscles strained the fabric of his shirt, but I wasn't interested in that.

  I was curious about the fact that he seemed concentrated on sister Helena's words but didn't bother to meet her gaze or even look at her. At the way he clenched his jaw everytime she said my name followed by a complain or accusation, her words faintly discernible from were I stood some twenty feet away.

  After a minute or two, just as I thought his brow couldn't crease any further, he held up a hand to quiet her and signaled the folder, taking out a fancy looking silver font pen from his front pocket.

  The nun looked taken aback for an instant but then proceeded to open the folder and point out to him the spaces that he had to sign. After that they shook hands and came back to join us again.

  "Samantha," Sister Helena signaled me."This is Mr.Samuel-"

  "Samael." He corrected curtly.

  "Samael." She repeated slowly, the simple action of speaking the name seemed to unnerve her.

  He stuck out his hand to shake mine and I complied. He had soft cool hands whereas mine were a little worn and raspy from doing a good deal of the heavy work around here.

  "I'm very pleased to meet you." He said, smiling softly.

  "Nice to meet you too. " I replied, managing a small half-hearted smile in return.

  "He will be picking you up later from school. " Sister Helena informed.

  "What? I'm not leaving already?"

  "I just got here, I kind of need some time to get a place and all."

He explained apologetically.

  "Oh, ok...well it's the last week of school anyway. No big deal." I shrugged. " The bus is passing amy minute now."

  "I'll take you bag, if that's ok with you. Then I'll pass by to pick you up at three."

  I nodded and handed him the strap. Almost as if on cue the yellow school bus came into view, the brakes squealing to a stop right in front of the convent entrance. I glanced at sister Helena.

  "Well, I guess this is goodbye." I said, unsure.

  "Most likely. " She admitted.

  "Thanks...for everything." I didn't know what else to say and her face remained expressionless.

  I gave a slight wave at sister Nicole, then turned to the man.

"I'll see you later? I guess?

  "I'll be there. " He nodded, hands interlocked over his belt buckle, keeping a cool relaxed stance.

  "Ok then. I better get going."

  And with that I turned my back to them and bounded out the wooden door, down the short flight of stairs and along the pathway towards the open gate. I climbed into the bus and found an empty seat. I thought I'd feel sad or something , seeing the convent slip out of view thought the bus window, but nothing came. I was relieved, to say the truth, as if a weight had been lifted of my shoulders that I hadn't even known was there.

  The stranger waved at me before the bus rounded the corner. No, not a stranger anymore, not that much at least. I knew his scent, I just couldn't quite pin it. And I never forget the way someone smells, especially when it was as peculiar as his.

  The convent doors had already been closed. He stood just at the top of the stairs holding my dufle bag. Sister Helena was showing absolutely no interest in being in his presence a minute longer.

  His name had seemed to strike a nerve in her , I knew the interesting story behind it, everyone in the convent probably did. I could hardly blame sister Helena for being eager to have him leave, even though her superstitions were usually wrongly placed, like with me, for example. My birthmark was nothing more that an imperfection caused by genetics.

And a name was just name, one that maybe his parents had randomly heard and liked without giving it much thought, after all, what kind of parent would knowingly name their child after the devil ?