Back in the Habit by Alice Loweecey

Vivian’s mouth covered. A circle of light bobbed ahead of them, illuminated the wall, and flickered over their faces. Giulia blocked her eyes with her free hand.
    â€œSister Regina?” Sister Bartholomew whispered.
    â€œOh, thank God. Can you help us, Sister?”
    â€œWhat?” Sister Bartholomew came closer, keeping the light on the floor in front of her. “Oh, no, is Vivian drunk? Never mind; I can smell it.” She hefted Vivian’s other shoulder. “Sister Gretchen’s not up here yet, but I expect her any minute. Let’s put this one to bed before she shows.”
    Sister Bart steered the shambling procession to the first bedroom after the chapel. Sister Vivian was all but out on her feet.
    Sister Bartholomew yanked down the bedspread. “Idiot. What did she do, bust into your room bragging how she can hold her liquor?”
    â€œMore or less.”
    They heaved Vivian onto the blanket and took off her shoes.
    â€œâ€™S’at, you, Bart?” Vivian’s voice faded out on the last word.
    Giulia un-Velcroed the veil and laid it on the dresser. “So she’s lost control like this before?”
    â€œNot since the Feast of the Assumption. Wonder what set her off? Help me turn her over, would you?”
    They rolled the now-unconscious Vivian onto her stomach. Sister Bartholomew unzipped the slightly-too-tight habit, muttering, “Gotta channel it better, dummy. Gotta deal with it.” Between them, they tugged it off her in increments, finally working it out from under her legs. Giulia hung it on a hook behind the door and Sister Bartholomew flung the bedspread over Vivian just as she began to snore.
    Blowing out a long breath, Giulia pulled two tissues from the box on the dresser and wiped her hands.
    Sister Bart turned Vivian’s head to the side. “At least if she pukes she won’t choke to death.”
    She closed the door on the noise, and Giulia blinked to get used to the new darkness of the hall.
    â€œHas she been that bad since she entered?”
    â€œI don’t think so, but I didn’t meet her till after the merger. We were both Canonicals already.”
    Steady footsteps became audible on the landing.
    Sister Bartholomew hustled Giulia down the hall and through the unlocked back door. “Thanks a ton for helping with Vivian, Sister. Sister Gretchen shouldn’t find you up here this late. See you tomorrow morning.”
    Giulia clutched the banister to stop herself going headlong down the steps. Sister Bartholomew vanished behind the double doors.
    She slid off her shoes and walked downstairs on the balls of her feet. It has to be close to eleven-thirty. That alarm rings at six. And I’m sneaking around the Motherhouse covered in sticky snot and tears and drool that stinks of sour altar wine. The third-floor bathroom door opened and she slipped into the corner parlor. I should’ve smeared myself with honey and found that anthill before coming here. This place is like a Jerry Springer episode.
    â€œDär är du. Följ med mig.”
    Giulia’s veil nearly flew off her head like hats did in comic strips. “Sister Arnulf.”
    The little nun took Giulia’s hand and led her to one of the small tables. Giulia looked out at the dimly lit floor, but Sister Theresa the handler wasn’t anywhere. She let Sister Arnulf sit her in one of the polished chairs.
    â€œSister, you know I can’t understand you, but I’m working on the basics. Maybe tomorrow.” She sighed at her own futility. “Why am I explaining this to you?”
    Sister Arnulf drew a face on a piece of paper while Giulia muttered. Giulia couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be male or female. It wore no veil, but had no hair either. When the face had rudimentary features, she added a dark circle on the right side of the forehead, pressing so hard the pencil lead snapped.
    She pushed the paper in front of Giulia, pointed