Second Sight
They’d
stopped wearing the penguin suits before I came here. You know what I mean, the habits. That’s probably why it happened to her. Who’d mug a nun? If a mugger knew she was a nun, I mean. They all look like gym teachers now, but come
to think about it who’d mug a teacher?
They don’t make much more than nuns.
Believe me I know. Guess the
muggers don’t though. They didn’t in
Sister Angelica’s case.
She has
a great family. That doesn’t sound
right, she’s really got two great families, the one she was born with and the
one she has now. Anyway, both stood by
her. The security people found her in
the airport parking deck with the front of her head bashed in. Can’t figure why they call these guys
“security.” Lost and found would be more
like it. They did manage to get her to
the hospital.
It was
nearly a year before we got her back.
Everyone was looking forward to it, she was a big favorite with the
kids. Even the boys in my woodshop class
were excited about her homecoming, and these hellions carefully cultivate the
“laid back” attitude. She didn’t look so
good when we finally got to see her at the reception. She’d healed, but her face would never be the
same. That was only the obvious.
We’d
been told, but we weren’t prepared for the truth. Mother Mary Clarence had spoken to me
privately about it, she wanted the shop kids kept under control, tight
control. They have a reputation among
the nuns, but they are basically good boys and I told the principal I was sure
she could count on the boys not to tease her.
When I
saw her at the reception I was not quite as sure. Sister Angelica wasn’t blind, but she
couldn’t really see. This is hard to
explain. She could read, she could get
around the halls, she could do everything you or I can do except one. There is a long medical term for it. I was told the name, but I can never remember
stuff like that. She couldn’t recognize
faces. Even her mother, her real mother,
had to introduce herself every time they saw each other. I didn’t know how she was going to
manage. Imagine, class after overcrowded class of kids, all
dressed alike in those little uniforms, and her not able to tell one from
another. I got a clue at the reception.
“Mr.
Cohen!” She said as soon as I took her hand, and before Mother Mary Clarence
could whisper my name. “You smell just
like a pine board.” It made me proud of
her and for some reason proud of myself.
Anyway, I felt sure again.
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