but before Little Tina passed away from a rare tropical lung fungus, that Sister Helen and Sister Barbara had staged their intervention. Sister Mary had taken the news of her prayer ban stoically, and to their faces she had agreed that what they were saying made sense. But after they had left she curled up on her quilt and cried for hours. Sister Mary had never believed that people could be so cruel, especially other Poor Clares, but here she was, judged a killer by her own order, and all she had done was pray for others as Poor Clares were ordered to do by God. After that, she lost herself in an endless list of odd jobs and chores around the monastery, making repairs, earning environmental accolades and spending her time in quiet contemplation. But she had secretly felt like she was walking around with a scarlet PN (fo. “Poisoned Nun”) hanging around her neck.
“I’m sorry,” she said, bludgeoned into submission by the mere mention of Shadow Grove.
“Don’t be sorry,” Sister Barbara said. “Just stop praying for Sister Helen.”
“Yes, sister,” Sister Mary said. She had a feeling that she wouldn’t enjoy the rest of her morning.
“I have been on the telephone with Sister Susan. She met you at one of your construction conferences. You are going to go to Minneapolis to meet with her.”
“I don’t want to go to Minneapolis.”
“Remember your oath of obedience. You are called to Minneapolis, and you will go. Pack your bags, because after today you’re going to be their problem, not ours.”
“I’m being expelled?”
“That’s up to them. Did you repair the garage door?”
“I have to talk to Sister Helen,” Mary said suddenly, and she started for the front porch. Sister Barbara blocked her way.
“You still have chores to finish before you leave,” Sister Barbara said. “The garage door keeps sticking and the mailbox needs a new door.”
“I have to talk to Sister Helen,” Sister Mary said again.
“You have to finish your chores and go to Minneapolis.”
“But I’m pregnant,” Sister Mary said, and she pushed past the stunned Sister Barbara, and ran into the house.
Enar Chakara’s office at RG+E looked completely empty, like the waiting room in an aromatherapy clinic. There were no chairs, only seating surfaces. There were no decorations, only indirect lighting and neutral wood. Enar was sleek and anonymous, too. He had enormous biceps and a tuft of hair on his face that changed size, shape and location every time Satan visited. Right now it was nesting beneath his bottom lip. A tribal tattoo was smeared across the side of his neck. In other words, he looked like everyone in LA.
“Satan, my brother by another mother,” Enar said, putting his hands together and bowing his head in the traditional greeting. “Namaste.”
“Sure,” Satan said.
“What can I do you for? You want a water?”
“No.”
“Let me get you a water. We have it brought in from Tibet,” he said reaching into a hidden receptacle behind a wall panel. “Oh, wait. No, it’s just Evian. Still, you want one?”
“Thank you,” Satan said.
“We have other water if you’d prefer that.”
“I’m fine with this,” Satan said, taking the bottle. He’d never left a meeting with Enar without a bottle of water. Since he didn’t drink water he usually poured it into the plant by the elevator, and then dropped the bottle on the floor of the parking garage. He was Satan, after all. Littering was part of his whole MO.
“Alright, okay, zeroing in on why you’ve come to me today,” Enar said. “Let’s focus: Death. You’re thinking it. I said it. We need to talk about Death. The board is very concerned that you’re here.”
“Why?”
“Very, very concerned.”
“But why?”
“Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t coming from me, it’s just a general feeling in the air that you couldn’t even pin on any one person. Just a free-floating mood that’s no one’s fault. But it’s here and I have to say it. It’s a reality. Let’s face it. Everyone is very appreciative of what you’ve done for us over the years. Very appreciative. And I think that shows in our ceremonies. I hope it shows. Does it show?”
“I don’t know,” Satan said, getting uncomfortable.
“So that’s an ‘it doesn’t show’?”
“No, it shows,” Satan said.
“Okay, because we feel it, truly, in our hearts, so it should show. But the board – not me, them – they wanted me to ask you that...if...see...wow, this is worse than when I came out to my fiancé’. Okay, what they want to know is...you’re not here