from the room. “Madeleine, the Holy Mother knows you love Her day and night. And if She loves you, She wants the best for you. Isn’t the best for you right now to let me take you to the hospital for a rest?”
’I’m not going, you can’t make me leave Her. I never should have left Her tonight.”
“Then let me give you another injection,” Hector urged. “It will make you calmer.”
“I don’t want a shot, when you gave me that shot I couldn’t hear Her so well. It made Her angry, that I was trying to turn away from Her.”
Jacqui and Nanette came into the hallway. “Madeleine, you can’t go back out there tonight. It’s dark, it’s too dangerous for you and we want to stay here to rest. You know there’s a bed here for you tonight. You could even take a shower. Stay here with us.”
Madeleine wrenched her hand from Nanette’s and ran down the hall and out the door. Hector started after her.
“What are you going to do?” Jacqui demanded. “You can’t make her come back. You can’t force her to go to the hospital if she doesn’t want to, even assuming they’d let her have a bed, which the word on Midwest Hospital is, most definitely not. It’s only a mile and a half to that wall: she’ll make it.”
“I’ve had enough of Brother Rafe’s preaching, although that drunk who just showed up is making the place more interesting,” Nanette said. “Only I don’t like watching Patsy Wanachs throw people out, and that’s what’s going to happen next. I’m going to get me a cup of coffee. You want one, Doctor?”
Under the shelter’s rules, beds were available from ten o’clock until six the next morning. Until Bible study finished, no one could watch TV, because the class was held in the shelter’s activities room, where television, art projects, and such games as the church didn’t think involved gambling took place. If someone didn’t care for Bible study, her only choice was not to come to the shelter until ten—when all the beds might already be allotted—or to sit in the refectory with a cup of coffee under the gaze of a bored volunteer, assigned to make sure the women didn’t ransack the pantry.
Hector went back to the doorway of the activities room. Caroline, who’d found the passage where Lot slept with his daughters,was arguing with Rafe about the meaning of the passage he’d selected from First Samuel.
“It doesn’t say women shouldn’t drink, only that this priest, this Eli, thought Hannah was drunk.”
“But we know if the word is in the Bible it is the true word of God, and a guide for us,” Rafe said. “And it’s clear that God, through Eli, is condemning drunkenness in women very specifically.”
“But drunkenness in men is all right.” Luisa, who’d been lolling on her chair, picking at the threads in her stockings, sat up. “When Shahwerwus—Shawer—Hasherus sent for Vashti you’d better believe he’d been drinking, yes, sir, golden goblets for the king. But she gets sent away and is condemned forever for not wanting to go to this drunk. Is this right, should she have to let him fuck her when he’s drunk? It’s not fair. Are you saying it’s fair, you holy roller, whatever your name is, for kings to get drunk, but women can’t?”
Lowrie’s smile became fixed with the glue of anger. “The Bible is the just word of God. But it is never right for anyone to get drunk, least of all for you to show up here drunk and disrupt this class. If you cannot be—”
“Who’s saying I’m drunk?” Luisa was on her feet, swaying. “It’s that bitch Cesarini, isn’t it, jealous because they wouldn’t let her sing Fenena in Covent Garden—”
Patsy Wanachs shoved her way past Hector into the room. “Luisa! Come with me.”
The shelter director grabbed Luisa’s hand and yanked her into the hall. “I suggested that you might not be ready for Bible study, but you insisted you wanted to attend, that you wouldn’t disrupt the meeting. Now look
’I’m not going, you can’t make me leave Her. I never should have left Her tonight.”
“Then let me give you another injection,” Hector urged. “It will make you calmer.”
“I don’t want a shot, when you gave me that shot I couldn’t hear Her so well. It made Her angry, that I was trying to turn away from Her.”
Jacqui and Nanette came into the hallway. “Madeleine, you can’t go back out there tonight. It’s dark, it’s too dangerous for you and we want to stay here to rest. You know there’s a bed here for you tonight. You could even take a shower. Stay here with us.”
Madeleine wrenched her hand from Nanette’s and ran down the hall and out the door. Hector started after her.
“What are you going to do?” Jacqui demanded. “You can’t make her come back. You can’t force her to go to the hospital if she doesn’t want to, even assuming they’d let her have a bed, which the word on Midwest Hospital is, most definitely not. It’s only a mile and a half to that wall: she’ll make it.”
“I’ve had enough of Brother Rafe’s preaching, although that drunk who just showed up is making the place more interesting,” Nanette said. “Only I don’t like watching Patsy Wanachs throw people out, and that’s what’s going to happen next. I’m going to get me a cup of coffee. You want one, Doctor?”
Under the shelter’s rules, beds were available from ten o’clock until six the next morning. Until Bible study finished, no one could watch TV, because the class was held in the shelter’s activities room, where television, art projects, and such games as the church didn’t think involved gambling took place. If someone didn’t care for Bible study, her only choice was not to come to the shelter until ten—when all the beds might already be allotted—or to sit in the refectory with a cup of coffee under the gaze of a bored volunteer, assigned to make sure the women didn’t ransack the pantry.
Hector went back to the doorway of the activities room. Caroline, who’d found the passage where Lot slept with his daughters,was arguing with Rafe about the meaning of the passage he’d selected from First Samuel.
“It doesn’t say women shouldn’t drink, only that this priest, this Eli, thought Hannah was drunk.”
“But we know if the word is in the Bible it is the true word of God, and a guide for us,” Rafe said. “And it’s clear that God, through Eli, is condemning drunkenness in women very specifically.”
“But drunkenness in men is all right.” Luisa, who’d been lolling on her chair, picking at the threads in her stockings, sat up. “When Shahwerwus—Shawer—Hasherus sent for Vashti you’d better believe he’d been drinking, yes, sir, golden goblets for the king. But she gets sent away and is condemned forever for not wanting to go to this drunk. Is this right, should she have to let him fuck her when he’s drunk? It’s not fair. Are you saying it’s fair, you holy roller, whatever your name is, for kings to get drunk, but women can’t?”
Lowrie’s smile became fixed with the glue of anger. “The Bible is the just word of God. But it is never right for anyone to get drunk, least of all for you to show up here drunk and disrupt this class. If you cannot be—”
“Who’s saying I’m drunk?” Luisa was on her feet, swaying. “It’s that bitch Cesarini, isn’t it, jealous because they wouldn’t let her sing Fenena in Covent Garden—”
Patsy Wanachs shoved her way past Hector into the room. “Luisa! Come with me.”
The shelter director grabbed Luisa’s hand and yanked her into the hall. “I suggested that you might not be ready for Bible study, but you insisted you wanted to attend, that you wouldn’t disrupt the meeting. Now look
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