Salt in the Wound by Sierra Simone

Author:Sierra Simone [Simone, Sierra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: No Bird Press
Published: 2023-08-08T04:00:00+00:00

eight

“Sister Mary Alice, I have—I have a question.”

Training had just finished for the day, the other students heading to the back rooms to change into street clothes. The middle-aged nun looked over at me from where she was setting rattan canes on a rack.

“Yes, Miss Laurence?”

I didn’t fidget or look away—two habits Mortimer had schooled out of me by the time I was sixteen. Actual nervousness or weakness should never be accidentally revealed, he’d told me over and over again. Any betrayal of emotion should be intentional, an act of misdirection. It was in this way that we made sure all conversations turned to our advantage.

I didn’t need the conversation to run to my advantage, but I mostly didn’t want Sister Mary Alice to think I was asking what I was about to ask out of cowardice.

“I want to talk to you about sex,” I said, and her hand paused on the cane she was putting away. I had surprised her.

“Let’s go to the office,” she replied after a long moment. I nodded, knowing it was for privacy. Classes were done for the night, but people left in clumps and waves, getting caught up in after-class chats or waiting until their bus was closer, and it was a small space. Chances of being overheard were high.

Except when we got inside the office, with the door shut and us settled on either side of the ancient metal desk, Sister Mary Alice pulled out a dusty bottle, followed by two less dusty glasses. I suspected this might have been the real reason we came to the office after all, but I didn’t argue when she pushed a glass of something gold across the surface of the desk to me. It made my eyes water when I held it close for a sniff.

It wasn’t until she had taken a long, un-nunlike drink that she spoke again. “This is about your engagement.”

I nodded. I wouldn’t have hidden such a thing from her or Sister Grace, not when it would mean me eventually leaving Manhattan, but the sisters and Uncle Mortimer were thick as thieves anyway, and had been since my mother’s death. I’d always figured it was about them keeping an eye on me while Mortimer was out of the country, since no one trusted my father with anything other than my physical wellbeing.

I looked down at the glass, knowing what I wanted to ask and still struggling. I couldn’t bear the idea of talking to Mortimer or my confessor about this, and it made more sense to talk to an actual sister anyway, someone already living the life I wanted to lead.

“I never thought that I would be married,” I started, my eyes on the liquor rippling in the glass. “But now I will be. I didn’t—choose it. For myself. But once I understood why it was important, I agreed to it. So it’s not what I wanted, but if I’m going to do it, then I’m going to do right by it.

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