Not Pretending Anymore, Ward, Penelope [books that read to you TXT] 📗

sell yourself short. I’m assuming there’s a reason you wanted to have this talk today. And that reason looks good in a skirt.”

I smiled. “Her name is Molly.”

“Well, Molly would be very lucky to have you. Just like you are, son. No matter what road life takes you down. Trust me, I know that firsthand. Sometimes a bumpy road takes you to the best places.”

Though I didn’t necessarily agree with him, I knew my father meant well. So I pretended he’d helped me solve my dilemma. “Thanks, Dad.”

***

My time in California was limited. But there was no way I could come all the way home and not see my favorite sister. On Sunday, I decided to take a road trip to the convent to visit Catherine. She was four hours north in San Luis Obispo.

When I arrived, some of the nuns were playing basketball on the court near the front of the property. It was a riot to see them bouncing the ball around on the pavement, most of them in knee-length skirts or longer. If anyone thought all nuns did was sit around and pray, this proved them wrong. Some of these ladies could put me to shame on the court. Catherine was always telling me about their outings, too. They took exercise classes together, went to speak at schools, and volunteered in so many places. It was a very active lifestyle. Which was a good thing because if I were forced to be celibate, I would definitely need distractions, too. But let’s be real, that would never be my reality. I didn’t know how my sister did it. But this was the life she chose to lead.

I always had to wait outside until Catherine came out to get me. Since she didn’t have a cell phone, I had to dial the main line and request that someone tell her I was here.

Catherine finally emerged and reached out her arms to greet me as I stood at the base of the steps.

She gave me a hug. “How was the ride, little brother?”

“Long, but worth it to see you, Sister-Sister.”

She wore a simple, gray dress and small cross around her neck. Catherine’s order was less strict than some. They didn’t have to wear the traditional habits. Let’s put it this way: they were as stylin’ as nuns were going to get.

I gestured to the court. “How come you’re not out there playing?”

“It’s my turn to cook dinner tonight. I had to start preparing it.” She shrugged. “I played yesterday.”

I asked the question I always did when I came to visit. “I got my car running out front and ready to go. Are you sure you don’t want to skip this joint and never look back?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not a chance.”

Of course I was kidding. She knew that now. Although a few years ago, I might have been serious.

Catherine had been very careful to choose an order that allowed her to see her friends and family. Some nuns in other convents were kept apart from their loved ones. While I had to make an appointment, I was grateful to be welcome here. I couldn’t imagine not being allowed to see her.

We walked through the grassy field that surrounded the place.

“I was surprised when you told me you were back here for such a short time,” she said.

“Yeah. Well, I needed a break from Wisconsin.”

She cocked her head. “Too much…dairy?”

“Nah. The cheese is the best part.” I laughed. “Not enough of everything else, like my fam.”

“When do you go back?”

“Tomorrow.” I sighed. “I wish I could stay in California a few more days, though.”

“You miss home that much? That’s why you’re here? It’s an awfully long way to come for just a few days.”

“Well, I needed to do some soul searching. And I wanted to talk to Dad, in particular—and see you, of course.”

Catherine was the only one I’d spoken to at length about my bouts of depression over the years. But even so, I’d never expressed my deepest underlying concern to her: that I feared turning into our mother. Catherine didn’t realize the extent to which it plagued me.

A look of concern crossed her face as she gestured toward a bench near a monument of Holy Mary. “Let’s sit.”

I looked up at two birds congregating on the Blessed Mother’s head and finally said, “I’m going to talk to Dr. Spellman. I keep waiting for things to get worse.”

She tilted her head. “Worse how?”

I looked my sister in the eyes. “You know...”

Catherine adjusted the gold cross around her neck. “No, I don’t. What are you saying?”

I hesitated. “I feel like it’s only a matter of time before I’m cleaning the bathroom floor with a toothbrush at two in the morning, Cat. What if I wind up with bipolar disorder like Mom?” I swallowed.

She frowned. “Just because you struggle with depression, that doesn’t mean you have exactly what Mom has.”

“Last month they had to adjust my meds again. I missed a few days of work and was feeling really down.”

“Okay…well, that still sounds like depression. You know medications need to be adjusted from time to time. That’s true for almost any condition.”

“Or my illness could be progressing. I talked to Dad, and Mom didn’t change overnight.”

She let out a long breath. “You can’t jump to a conclusion like that just because you needed a medication adjustment. But let’s walk down that path for a moment. What happens if things turn out to be the worst-case scenario and you’re diagnosed as bipolar someday? What are you really worried about here?”

“I don’t want to be sick, Cat.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Having depression or bipolar disorder doesn’t make you sick. It just means you have something you need to learn to live with.” She paused. “But what’s wrong with the idea of being sick anyway? We all become sick, whether mentally or physically, at some point. No one escapes this life unscathed.”

“Yeah,” I muttered as I looked up at the birds again, listening to