Back in the Habit by Alice Loweecey Page B

searched. Updates when I learn something.
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    The line in the bathroom at 6:05 a.m. reminded Giulia of intermission at the Cottonwood Performing Arts Center.
    Be sure to visit the wine bar before Act Two, folks! And when the show’s over, Tracey’s Chocolates are the perfect way to end the evening.
    Giulia wanted a Tracey’s turtle in the worst way—at this hour of the morning, too. Talk about stress eating.
    The water pressure in the building had improved since her Novitiate years. Now it was possible to take a decent four-minute shower rather than waiting ten for the water to heat up. That was probably why Fabian spent the money: faster showers kept the puppets efficient.
    Giulia towel-dried her hair. She should’ve showered last night, but the noise would’ve awakened too many people. Now her veil would be damp till noon.
    Sister Josepha grimaced at Giulia as she stepped into the just-vacated shower cubicle. “The only good crowds are the ones cheering for my basketball teams.”
    Sister Mary Stephen took the sink next to Giulia.
    â€œMorning,” Giulia said after she spit.
    Mary Stephen nodded, staring at Giulia’s reflection in the mirror instead of her own.
    Giulia, now self-conscious about her every movement, escaped as soon as she swallowed a multi-vitamin. Safe in her room (like that was safe anymore), she chose fuchsia underwear with silver-toned lace accents.
    â€œTake that, Fabian. I hope you’re gnashing your teeth as you pick out today’s pair of granny underpants.” The habit slipped over her “real woman’s” underthings and she transformed into Sister Regina Coelis. She twisted her already curling hair into a knot and shoved it under the veil. The clock read 6:22.
    Drawers closed, bed made, room neat and anonymous.
    She turned on her phone and the message icon appeared in the top left corner, but it was from Sidney, not Frank.
    Olivier proposed ! Cant wait 2 tell u!
    Giulia’s grin stretched her cheeks to their limit. “What a wedding that’ll be. One set of food stations dedicated to carnivores and sugar-holics, the other for the all-natural cult. I wonder if they’ll have a juice bar opposite the regular bar?”
    6:32. She set the phone to Silent and walked—never run, no indeed—downstairs.
    She tried to pay attention to morning prayers. Really she did. Why did the monotone-voiced Sisters always volunteer to lead?
    Her mind wandered to Sidney and Olivier’s wedding. It didn’t stretch credulity a millimeter to picture Sidney eschewing a traditional white gown for one made from flax or bamboo. Both sustainable plants, of course. Or perhaps she’d choose a winter wedding and make her dress from her family’s alpaca wool.
    Like yesterday, Giulia joined in the responsories to all the Psalms while the rest of her was miles away in Cottonwood.
    She’ll be bubbly and sweet, and Olivier will be handsome and charming. She’ll feed him gluten-free cake sweetened with honey, and he’ll feed her something traditional with buttercream frosting—but no yellow dye number 5.
    Office ended.
    I didn’t pay attention to a single word. I’m going to Hell.
    Father Ray said another efficient Mass with a five-minute homily. As Giulia moved along the central-aisle Communion line, she got that prickly-neck sense of someone watching her.
    When she turned away from the Communion rail, the Host doing its best to glom onto the roof of her mouth, she looked straight into Sister Mary Stephen’s ice-blue eyes.
    Giulia conceded the staring contest when she reached her pew. Her knees hit the kneeler, and meditation about Sister Mary Stephen trampled any thoughts of meditation on Communion.
    Only twelve people remained in the Communion line when her tongue finally dislodged the Host from the Palate Gravity Field.
    _____
    â€œI want chocolate.” Sister Susan poked at her scrambled