Called for action

Frontiers, 1999 by Currans-Sheehan, Tricia

Nadine followed Mom into the kitchen. "So you want to keep up the fight?"

"I didn't start it. You did."

"Okay, I started it. Well I'm here to finish it."

Mom filled the teakettle with water and set it on the stove.

Nadine stood right there near the counter and said, "I'm sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have used your church for my battle."

"You're right. You shouldn't have."

"I'm asking for forgiveness."

Mom said, "Huh." She walked into the living room and pulled back the drape and sat on her stool. She reached for her black prayer book wrapped in a band of elastic that she'd cut from an old pair of panty hose. The book was filled with dozens of holy cards from funerals of relatives and friends. Mom pulled one out and began reading.

"Ma, did you hear me?"

"I heard, but I'm not forgiving you."

Mom was reading aloud, the words running together like it was a chant. Nadine stood there for a few seconds more. The teakettle was boiling, and she heard the whistle on it. She'd given Mom that whistle kettle last year when she'd fallen asleep and let the old teapot boil dry on the stove. The neighbor had come over to see her and had discovered it-red hot.

She went over to the stove and turned off the burner. She found the green tea and made Mom a cup. She picked out a Lipton's tea bag for herself.

Nadine sat at the kitchen table sipping her tea.

Finally Mom put her prayer book away and took her cane, hobbling over to the stove where her cup of tea sat. She picked it up and took a sip, standing.

"Ma, you know what's wrong with us. You really wanted a priest but your boys didn't come through for you. So you got a nun instead. And when that fell through, you felt cheated and angry."

Mom didn't say a word. She just stood there, her back to Nadine, using the stove for her table as she took a drink and set it back down.

"You have resented me for years. You know, I keep feeling like I don't matter to you. You can't accept me as just Nadine, your daughter."

Mom's hands trembled. "I have no daughter named Nadine."

Nadine looked up. "And how long have you felt that way?"

"Since you humiliated me by leaving the convent."

"And did you ever consider that maybe I wasn't happy there? That I found out that that life wasn't for me?"

"Oh, I don't want to hear it. You broke my heart when you left. I had such high hopes for you. You were going to be a mother superior and run your order. And instead you turn out like this. A rabble-rousing old maid."

"Old maid. Is that what you think of me?"

"Yup. You haven't done anything with your life. You don't have kids and you're not a nun. You just spend your days making trouble for the Church. Well, maybe we don't want you."

"Ma, let's get away from that issue. That just clouds things. Let's talk about us.

"Well, as far as I'm concerned there ain't nothing for you to come back here for."

"So you can't just get to know me because I'm your daughter? Can't you go back to before I ever thought about being a nun, to when I was a little girl? Remember the time I fell from the big swing and got the wind knocked out of me. You thought I was dead. I remember you kept shaking me and you put a cold cloth on my head. You know what? I remember that my head was in your lap. That's the only time I ever remember you hugging me like you meant it. The only time."