Ashley carefully grasped a narrow iron handle and pulled, opening one of the church’s thick doors. As it shut behind him, he took a brief look around the empty vestibule before wandering into the nave, where he let his eyes roam across the stained glass icons of Saints. It wasn’t often Ashley found himself inside churches—he had been to this one once or twice in the past—but typically, he avoided it. He walked the center aisle, up toward the Sanctuary, as his mind seemed to drift to a distant dream. Soon his gaze fell upon a small stoup, half-full of stale sanctified water. He approached it thoughtfully and placed his hands on the stone rim of the bowl, letting his fingertips rest in the dusty soup until footsteps out in the vestibule interrupted his silence. He left and followed them.
“Excuse me,” he called. Sister Carroll stopped and turned to him as he continued, “Hello. I’m here to pick up my sister.”
“Your sister? Oh, we just spoke on the phone, correct?” She asked. “You’re here for Stam?”
“Yes.” He smiled again.
“… I don’t suppose your parents are here?” she asked.
“Afraid not.”
Sister Carroll pursed her lips, disappointed by the answer, but she then motioned for Ashley to follow her toward a walkway connecting the church to the school proper. As they neared it, Sister Carroll confessed, “I was hoping I might be able to talk to them—your parents—about some things.”
“Such as?”
“Well,” she began, only to stop when she could see Stam waiting for them on the opposite side of a glass door leading to the connecting hallway. The pale girl tapped softly against the clear pane.
“It’s open,” Sister Carroll called to her.
“May I come in?” she asked, still on the other side with one hand grasping the handle.
There was a trace of annoyance in Sister Carroll’s voice. “Stam, this is a church.”
Ashley winced discretely at the phrasing, knowing its ineffectuality, while Stam made no further move and remained expectant.
Sister Carroll, in a voice no longer simply hinting at irritation, instructed, “Come in, Stam.”
Upon stepping inside, her eyes quickly met Ashley’s.
“You all right?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Stam,” Sister Carroll spoke up. “We need to have a talk with your parents.”
Ashley smirked. “What’d you do?”
“A boy kissed me,” she answered flatly.
He raised an eyebrow. “Was he cute?”
“Excuse me,” interrupted Sister Carroll, turning away from Ashley. “Stam,” she said, “maybe you and I should talk alone for now. Would you come with me?” She glanced at Ashley. “We’ll just be a moment, if you don’t mind.”
He shrugged politely.
Sister Carroll’s windowless office was dim and quiet. The room was out of another era, furnished only in hues of brown, salmon, yellow, and another kind of brown. It reminded Stam of the outdated décor in Ashley’s home. Stam sat with her metal case on her lap, across a desk from Sister Carroll, who seemed to be choosing her words carefully. It was unclear if she was succeeding in saying what she wished to say.
“Now, Stam, you know the Father, Deacon Boylan, and myself all really appreciate the work you’ve done with us over the last few years—we would never take you for granted. But it’s my concern that maybe you’re not…” she stopped, trying to phrase things just right, “… fitting in, as would be proper.”
“How so?”
“You were thirteen-years-old when you came here, about the same age as the seventh and eighth graders, and I know a lot of them picked on you for being different.”
“How am I different?” Stam asked, quite genuinely, having been wondering about it more than usual today. “Is there something wrong with me?”
“No, no, Stam, honey, not like that….” Sister Carroll faltered.
“David said that he liked me because I’m different.”
“Yes, well, David is a young man, and he’s just starting to be interested in girls. Things can be very confusing for a boy his age, as they can be for a girl your age,” she said. “But, Stam, you have to understand you are getting to be older than the other children here. David is only thirteen-years-old, and it isn’t appropriate for you to be indulging in your or his curiosities this way.”
“You mean I shouldn’t let him kiss me because I’m too old?”
“Stam, he may be the one who kissed you, but you have to ask yourself what you may have done to encourage that, and as always, think about how God would feel about what you two were doing in that bathroom.”
Stam obliged her and thought about it.
“I already talked to David,” said Sister Carroll. “But were you, perhaps, taking advantage of his feelings? You look much younger than you are, and it’s easy not to be aware of how a boy his age might see things.”
“I didn’t want to kiss him.”
“Did you say no?”
“It happened quickly—I didn’t expect it.” She paused. “I’d tell him to stop if it I suspected it would happen again, though that might not be enough to stop him.”
Sister Carroll became very quiet. She unfolded her hands and used them to push herself up in her seat. She leaned deeper into the table between them and kept her eyes on Stam’s. “Are you worried about that? Do you not feel comfortable?”
“I’m not afraid. The most he wants is to have sex with me.”
“Stam!” Sister Carroll was shocked.
“It’s a normal desire.”
“You know that’s a very serious matter and not something a girl your age should even be considering.” Sister Carroll seemed appalled. “You know better than that. And certainly David does too—”
“I wasn’t going to permit it.”
“Listen.” Sister Carroll was unsettlingly serious. “It’s normal for a girl your age to be curious, but that’s not the sort of thing you should be exploring this way, nor should you be making yourself so open—so confusing—to a boy like David. You should look to God to help you overcome temptation.”
Stam nodded, seeing no reason to argue.
“You agree?” Sister Carroll asked.
“Yes,” she answered. “I have some things to think about.”
“Well, that’s good.” Her voice sounded satisfied before turning serious once more. “Something else I’m worried about is your relationship to some of the other girls here….”
Stam said nothing.
“I know there are a lot of pressures on a young girl, and it can be hard if you’re not as…” she acted as though her next words were random, “… you know, as tall or tan or feel as though you’re not as pretty as others, or, anything else.”
“God makes everyone beautiful.”
This gave Sister Carroll pause. “Yes, he does, but I know sometimes you can see other girls developing at different times, or see made-up women in magazines….”
“I have never read a magazine.”
“Well, that’s not my point. I know you’re very mature and very quiet, Stam, but everybody feels self-conscious sometimes.”
Stam nodded.
“I want you to think about what happened in the restroom, and think about the fact that God was watching. I’m going to have another talk with David and Deacon Boylan tomorrow—you know he and I only want the best for both of you.”
Stam nodded once more.
In the vestibule, Ashley idly paged through a small Bible. He had never really read one before, though he had certainly held one up and pretended to when forced as a young child. Ashley was unlikely to read something he was actually interested in, and today was not the day to break old habits. He set the book down after skimming two and a half Psalms.
Stam and Sister Carroll then reappeared. Sister Carroll nodded to Ashley. “We had a good talk, I think.”
“Good, good.” He glanced at Stam. “Everything all right?”
“Yes,” Stam replied quietly.
Ashley turned to Sister Carroll. “Well, thank you very much.”
He started toward the exit and Stam followed. As the two headed outside and down the stone steps, Sister Carroll came to the door and watched them for a few moments before the icy air sent a shiver through her and she disappeared inside.
The pair crossed the track and field and moved through the parking lot, exchanging no words until Stam slowed to a stop. Ashley did the same.
“Where’s my car?” he asked, seeming to pick up on Stam’s concern.
She was quiet as she looked around.
“Stam?”
“It was right over there.”
Ashley’s eyes narrowed, not at Stam, but at the situation. The maroon sedan was nowhere to be seen.
“Was there anything… in it?”
The question seemed to make sense to Stam. “No,” she shook her head. “My phone,” she added.
“Did it get towed? Stolen?”
“I always park here,” Stam answered, finding the keys in her pocket.
“Cars don’t get stolen in this neighborhood,” Ashley mused wearily.
Stam nodded, agreeing.
“I’ve had that car for over twenty years,” he grumbled before folding his arms. “This is going to be a long night.”
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