was, Hattie hadn’t recovered yet, and seemed to be getting even more depressed.
“Sure,” she responded. “Do you want to stay Saturday night?”
“I can’t. I have to help with Mass on Sunday. I’ll just come for the day.”
“That’s such a long trip for you. I hope it doesn’t snow.”
“Me too.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m okay. See you Saturday.” She hung up before Melissa could question her further. Melissa had a busy week herself after that. Norm stayed with her every night, but he stayed away on Saturday, so she could spend the day with her sister. Hattie arrived at eleven, which meant she must have left the city around six, since there was a light snow on the road. She looked somber when Melissa opened the door for her, and followed her into the kitchen.
“They didn’t have cinnamon buns. I got you chocolate croissants.” Hattie smiled at her, but Melissa could see that something was wrong. “What’s up? You look like you flunked math.” They both smiled. It brought back memories of their youth.
Hattie sighed and sat back in a kitchen chair and looked at her sister. “I flunked vocation. There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for years. I should have told you a long time ago.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re a wonderful nun.”
“No, I’m not. I never had a vocation. You were right. I ran away. I wanted to run as far away as I could. The convent seemed like the perfect place to do it. I didn’t have some kind of religious vision or inspiration. I was just scared. So I ran away and hid, just like you said. I was a coward. I still am.
“Do you remember the producer who asked me to go to Hollywood for the screen test? He was offering me a part in a big movie. A good part. I was so excited. I never asked any questions. I flew out there on the ticket he sent me and showed up for the test. Sam Steinberg. He flew out to L.A. to be at the test himself. He told me to meet him in his office. So I did, like the idiot I was then.”
“You weren’t an idiot,” Melissa corrected her. She was listening closely, frowning. “You were a kid.”
“A very dumb kid. I walked into his office on a Saturday morning. There was no one else there. He said he was going to give me the test himself, because I was so talented. I could see a huge film career starting, and an Oscar in my future. He locked the door with a button under his desk. He took his clothes off then, and tore off mine. He ripped them right off my back, slapped me around, threw me on the couch in his office, and raped me. After that, he laid me on his desk, and punched me every time I tried to move, and raped me again. He hit me, kicked me, punched me, masturbated on me, and raped me all day. He kept me there till six o’clock. I could hardly walk by the time he let me go. There was no one in the building except us. He threw me a shirt and some shorts while I crawled across the floor. I couldn’t even stand up, while he put on his shirt and tie, and his suit. He stood in the doorway and said, ‘Sorry, kid, you flunked the test. You’re too young for the part. Better luck next time.’
“He laughed then and walked out. I don’t even know how I got out of there. I was too ashamed to go to a hospital. He broke some ribs. I was black and blue all over, and I could hardly sit down for a week. Thank God, I didn’t get pregnant. His name was on the list of sex offenders last week. Seventeen women have accused him of rape and assault and battery, and described everything he did to me. He’s been doing it to young hopeful actresses for years. The Sam Steinberg Screen Test. It’s common knowledge in Hollywood apparently.”
Melissa felt sick as she listened, afraid that there was more. “I checked in to a cheap motel and stayed there until I could walk normally again and cover the bruises with makeup. When I got home, I did the only thing I could think of. I went straight to the convent, and told them I felt I had a vocation. I didn’t