The Nutcracker
Manhattan
December 2019
Mark was sitting with his fingertips pressed together when Maggie finally trailed off, his expression unreadable. He said nothing right away but finally shook his head, as though suddenly realizing it was his turn to speak.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I’m still trying to absorb what you just told me.”
“My story so far isn’t quite what you expected, is it?”
“I’m not sure what I expected,” he admitted. “What happened next?”
“I’m a bit too tired to go into the rest of it just now.”
Mark raised a hand. “I get it. But still…wow. When I was sixteen, I doubt I could have handled a crisis like that.”
“I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
“Still…” He absently scratched an ear. “Your aunt Linda seems interesting.”
Maggie couldn’t help smiling. “For sure.”
“Do you still keep in touch?”
“We used to. She and Gwen visited me in New York a few times and I saw her in Ocracoke once, but mainly we wrote letters and chatted on the phone. She passed away six years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I still miss her.”
“Did you keep the letters?”
“Every single one.”
He gazed off to the side before coming back to Maggie. “Why did your aunt stop being a nun? Did you ever ask?”
“Not back then. I would have been uncomfortable asking her, and besides, I was too wrapped up in my own problems for the question to have even crossed my mind. It took me years to broach the subject, but when I did, I didn’t get an answer that I really understood. I think I was hoping for more of a smoking gun or something.”
“What did she say?”
“She said that life was about seasons, and that the season had changed.”
“Huh. That is a bit mysterious.”
“I’m guessing she got tired of dealing with all those pregnant teens. Speaking from experience, we can be a moody bunch.”
He chuckled before growing contemplative. “Do convents still take in pregnant teenagers?”
“I have no idea, but I sort of doubt it. Times change. A few years ago, when I caught the ‘I wonder’ bug, I searched for the Sisters of Mercy on the internet and learned that they’d closed more than a decade earlier.”
“Where was her convent? Before she left, I mean.”
“Illinois, I think. Or maybe it was Ohio. Somewhere in the Midwest, anyway. And don’t ask me how she ended up there in the first place. Like my dad, she was from the West Coast.”
“How long was she a nun?”
“Twenty-five years or so? Maybe a little less or more, I’m not really sure. Gwen too. I think Gwen took her orders even before my aunt did.”
“Do you think they were…？”
When he paused, Maggie lifted an eyebrow. “Lovers? I honestly don’t know that either. As I got older, I sort of thought they might be, since they were always together, but I never saw them kiss or hold hands or anything like that. One thing I know for certain, though: they loved each other deeply. Gwen was at my aunt Linda’s bedside when she passed away.”
“Do you keep in touch with her, too?”
“I was closer to my aunt, of course, but after she passed, I made sure to call Gwen a few times a year. But not so much lately. She has Alzheimer’s and I’m not sure she even remembers who I am anymore. She does remember my aunt, though, and that makes me happy.”
“It’s hard to believe that you’ve never told Luanne any of this.”
“It’s a habit. Even my parents still pretend that it never happened. Morgan too.”
“Have you heard from Luanne? Since she left for Hawaii?”
“I haven’t told her what the doctor said, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He swallowed. “I hate that this is happening to you,” he said. “I really do.”
“You and me both. Do yourself a favor and never get cancer, especially when you’re supposed to be in the prime of life.”
He bowed his head and she knew he was at a loss for words. If joking about death helped her keep other, darker feelings at bay, the downside was that no one ever knew exactly how to respond. Finally, he looked up.
“I got a text from Luanne today. She said she’d texted you but that you didn’t get back to her.”
“I haven’t checked my phone today. What did it say?”