Page 1 of Quiet Chaos

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“Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.” Isaiah 1:10

SKY - September 2017

Today is my eighteenth birthday, and for the first time in thirteen years, I’m stepping out on my own from behind these walls and bars. Over the past year, fear has crushed my heart, but a tingle of exhilaration sweeps it away. In the end, my stomach clenches as bile slithers up my throat. I'm terrified of being alone. I sneak out here for one last time before saying my goodbyes. My fingers wrap around the iron gate’s cold bars. Its squeaking a familiar sound since I was five. The clouds create elongated shadows on the street and buildings, like the dark hues that have come and gone within me since my decision.

This small Wyoming town is all I know. The sisters raised and educated me, sheltering me from most of the population. They did their best, unequipped, and naïve in how to raise a child. When I was old enough, the sisters brought me to the homeless shelter to help serve the lunch hour meal. Other than that, I only walk the barren streets of this town at dusk, accompanied by a sister. But I can’t complain. They have given me a good life.

I press my face against the metal, contemplating my future and panic-stricken about the world out there. As if begging forattention, I glance over my shoulder at the chipped and battered white pillars, weathered from abuse. The easier choice is to stay here. All I’ve known is white. White walls and white habits. Even our sins are white. I can remain in comfort, except a large part of me wants to explore. Find me. Find a husband and have children. Until now, I have never made my own choices. Others always gave them to me.

I whisper, “God, please help me make the right decision.” From a distance, a rumble of thunder and lightning cracks the sky. If that’s God talking to me, I’m not sure what he’s trying to say.

The smell of incense wafts in front of me. A hand presses against my shoulder, relieving me for a moment of the foreboding future. I turn toward Sister Mary with a smile. Since I arrived, she’s been like an older sister to me, providing words of affection and generosity. I’ve learned a great deal from her. I wonder who I’ll learn from when I’m gone.

Blinking from the sting of tears I’ve kept at bay, I hug her and say, “I apologize for leaving my morning chores and coming out here.”

Sister Mary takes both my hands in hers and says, “Sky, no need to worry about those chores. This is a big step for you.” She turns my hand over and places an envelope in it. “Here’s a little something to get you started.” My mouth opens, but she stops me. “We all took up a collection a year ago when you hinted about leaving. We can’t have a child of God wandering the streets with nothing to her name.”

A tear runs down my cheek as I release a shatteredthank you, giving her hands a light squeeze. I grew up in this convent and became a young lady. Now, I stand in the courtyard in a faded plain white dress hovering at my ankles while I have conflicting emotions.

She drapes an arm around my shoulder. “It’s enough to get you on your feet.”

I glance over at the street, which is quiet at this time of day. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

Sister Mary shakes her head and pats my hand. “Not at all. You’ve known nothing else other than the convent. It’s time you get out there and see for yourself. If you realize this is your place, you’re always welcome back.” A waterfall of tears blinds me. “Now, child, you’ll be fine.” She turns us in the convent’s direction and slips her arm through mine. “You have such a big heart, Sky. You won’t have any problem fitting in. This world could use someone like you.”

We walk under the arches and pillars to the walkway where the rest of the sisters stand. Rosaries dangle in front of them and they offer the smiles I have grown to love. Internal chaos wreaks havoc on my emotions, pulling me between staying and leaving. Each sister steps forward with words of wisdom, a verse, or a simple heartwarming farewell. They’re all the family I know.

I inhale the tears and blink away the lone ones caught on my eyelashes. “I can’t thank all of you enough for everything you’ve done for me. You’ve made this my home for thirteen years, and I’m honored to call you family.” I flick the tears off my cheeks. “I’ve learned so much from living here.” My voice cracks when I finish. “I am eternally grateful.”

Reverend Mother Corinne joins us, places a hand on my lower back, and guides me back to the gate.

“I assume Sister Mary gave you the money?” I nod. She takes a rosary out of her pocket. The beads are made from wood, connected to a silver cross of Jesus. “I know you have a rosary, but I wanted to give you this one. The wood comes from Bethlehem.” My hand shoots to my mouth. “Let’s not make a fuss, child. It’s time for you to go. We have prayers in five minutes.”

Reverend Mother Corinne opens the gate for me. I step out, and she closes it before I can change my mind.

“Godspeed, child.”

Sister Mary and Reverend Mother Corinne turn without another word or glance, disappearing into the convent.

At the bus station, I buy a ticket to Salt Lake City. Sister Mary has a friend I’ll be staying with, and the city has more jobs than Wyoming. Stares come from cautious people, eyeing my dress, cinched at the waist using a simple rope. I take my ponytail out and let my long hair fall to hide my face. Young women pass by, pointing at my dirty white scuffed shoes and giggle. I slide the cross along the chain around my neck, sitting in a chair by a wall to say a simple prayer. The same women mock my whispered prayer, so I say it in my head. At this moment, loneliness weighs heavily on my heart. This past year, I thought of nothing else except life beyond the convent. My imagination blossomed, picturing a beautiful and kind world. Never had I considered a littered bus station or people peppered in unkindness.

The loudspeaker announces,the1:00 pm bus bound for Salt Lake City, Utah has arrived.

I gather the purse Sister Ruth gave me and the small bag of my meager belongings and board the bus. Those who had already boarded put their legs across seats next to them or scowl. One man is bobbing his eyebrows up and down. I have no idea what that means, but he gives me a smile, exposing missing teeth. I take the seat next to him. He smells of the alcohol I recall from the homeless shelter. I had ladled out soup to glassy-eyed men and women, and their demeanor looked like hope waned in the far distance.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

I hold out my hand. “Hello. My name is Sky.”

“You’re my moon and sky.” He lets out a bellow. Yellowed fingers take my hand, and he places it on my leg.

My eyes shift from his hand to his face. “Excuse me, sir, but could you please move your hand?” I notice the armrest. As I push it down, I continue, “You can rest your hand here.”

Again, a loud roar comes out of him. My shoulders twitch at the sound. All I offer him is a smile. With that, he tells me to call him Jimmy. He says he works as a lumberjack and is on his way to visit a friend. Jimmy uses his two fingers on each hand, holds them up, and bends them opened and closed when he says friend.

I tilt my head and ask, “Why are you doing that with your fingers when you say, friend?”

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