Sister Elo?se saw it instantly. She quickly grabbed Rose by the scruff of the neck, her arm like a cane yanking a performer offstage. Sister Elo?se felt like Samson. Her beautiful hair had been cropped off, but she was filled with supernatural strength. She could have lifted anybody up over her head. She could put her hands on either column at the entrance of the building, push hard in either direction and watch the whole building come crashing down.
Instead she directed all her fury and strength at Rose. She pushed her down so she fell to the ground. She thrashed her over and over and over again. She hit her on the back with the broom handle. She hit her until it broke. Elo?se had forgotten how much she liked hitting another human being. She just wanted to hit her again, but harder. She felt that she could just stand there whipping the girl again and again until she was dead. Every time she hit her she hated her even more. It took over her entire body. Every inch of her was furious.
Rose lay on her side, curled up like a dog. All the bruises blooming like violets. All the bruises like storm clouds. The little beads of sweat like raindrops on her nose. All her bruises spreading out like the tip of a pen touching a wet cloth.
Still Sister Elo?se continued to hit the girl, until Rose was unconscious and the Mother Superior cried out, “That’s enough!”
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THE MOTHER SUPERIOR KNEW THAT Elo?se would end up murdering Rose. And an uproar would no doubt ensue. She had been looking for a reason to stop Rose and Pierrot from going around town. True, she had made a pretty penny off them. A new solarium in the nuns’ sleeping quarters had been built, and the indoor plumbing had been upgraded. But there had been more patrons requesting visits, which would entail repairs beyond the income that Rose and Pierrot were bringing in. And in any case, isolation was necessary for an orphanage to keep running. You couldn’t discipline the children if there were interminable people checking in and participating in the children’s lives. And an orphanage could not be a happy place.
The Mother Superior was of the opinion that happiness always led to tragedy. She had no idea why people valued the emotion and pursued it. It was nothing more than a temporary state of inebriation that led a person to make the worst decisions. There wasn’t a person who had experienced life on this planet who wouldn’t admit that sin and happiness were bedmates, were inextricably linked. Were there ever any two states of being that were so attracted to each other, were always seeking out each other’s company? They were a match made not in heaven but in hell.
The Mother Superior looked at Rose’s body lying on the raised bed in the infirmary. She was half-conscious, covered in terrible bruises and attached to an intravenous drip. The Mother Superior thought this was what came of allowing children to think of themselves as unique. Or particularly, this was what happened when you allowed an orphan to think of herself as unique.
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SISTER ELO?SE WAS ASHAMED to tell anyone why Rose was in the infirmary with a curtain drawn around her. So no one knew at first. They assumed she was in trouble and locked in the cupboard. Pierrot was sure that Rose was angry with him. Once his erection had gone down, he began to feel the little bit of shame that always came. He felt that he had gone too far. My God, how insensitive he had been! The more he thought about it, the more he was shocked and appalled by his behavior.
Just the day before, Rose had been telling him about her amazing plan that was surely going to make her world famous, and would probably include him. And how had he responded? By telling her that he wanted to introduce her to his penis!
Pierrot whispered at the door of the cupboard, but she didn’t answer back.
Every time he thought about it, he thudded the heel of his hand on his forehead. He kept knocking his head against the wall as though it were a boiled egg whose shell he wanted to crack open. He just couldn’t even think about it! He was a perverted lowlife. To revive his spirits, he imagined the Snowflake Icicle Extravaganza that he and Rose would collaborate on once she forgave him.
The first day of spring came and Rose was still in the infirmary. A small crucifix with a blue ceramic Jesus nailed to it hung above her head. A butterfly passed by the window. It had made its wings out of the pressed petals of flowers.
9
IN WHICH PIERROT IS MISTAKEN FOR A GENIUS