Habit To Heels Chapter 15

Roommate Conversations/ Emily

Sister Tabby is alone in her large stonewalled office, the room is illuminated with the late afternoon sunlight. Her desk is uncharacteristically clean, not cluttered by the usual convent business. She holds a letter in her lap, the paper now crumpled from repeated folding and unfolding. She continues to read the same part over and over.

"The Abbot will be arriving Friday to inspect St. Rose. He will also interview you and Sister Tara for the permanent position of Mother Superior."

Pacing which echoes on the floor, Tabby mutters aloud, "Friday. Why so soon?" Her fingers tap against her lip. "He's not just coming to visit. This is judgment."

The Abbot, strict, old-school, a man of doctrine and finality. His decisions stick. One meeting could change everything.

That evening, after prayers. Sister Tabby stops Tara as she is heading toward the parking lot. She hesitates a moment, then calls out, "Um, Sister Tara?"

Tara turns, "Yes, Reverend Mother?"

Tabby holds out the letter. "This came from the Abbot. It involves you."

Tara scans the wrinkly letter, "Friday?" she says softly. Then, with a small polite smile, "That's the day I move. It'll be my last night in my apartment." She hands the letter back. "Thank you, Reverend Mother. Also, I was wondering. Would it be alright if Sisters Alexa and Asia came by that night to help me move my things?"

Tabby nods, "I'll ask them. I'm sure it can be arranged. Did you give any thought to what we discussed in the storage room a few nights ago?"

Tara frowns, "Yes Reverend Mother, I did." Tara pauses slumps her shoulders a bit, "Let's both talk to the Abbot, and then we will see what happens."

Tabby straightens, "Very well Sister Tara." She turns and walks away.

Upstairs in the nuns' residence. Sister Alexa stands by and leans out of an open window, cigarette in hand. She blows smoke into the night, then waves her arm like a magician trying to make the smoke and the smell magically disappear. She smiles at her roommate, Sister Asia. Alexa states, "I'm telling you, Asia. Sister Tabby's never gonna let us go."

Asia sits cross-legged on her bed, clutching a Grateful Dead bandana. Asia counters, "We have to try," she pleads. "I haven't missed a tour of theirs in five years." She sings off tune, "Come hear Uncle John's band playing to the tide."

Alexa rolls her eyes and collapses dramatically backwards onto her bed. "Okay, let me get this straight, we're gonna drive 200 miles to Chicago, see a Grateful Dead concert. Then somehow drive back to Grand Rapids, 200 miles. All in time to get back for Morning Prayers?" She lets out a short laugh. "Tabby would excommunicate us."

Asia leans forward. "We've been model nuns since we took our vows. You're the best religious school teacher, and I help with music. This isn't just a concert, it's a spiritual experience. It's um,   it's an awakening."

Alexa snorts, "Lead with that and she'll ban you from ever holding so much as a tambourine ever again."

"C'mon, Alexa. Help me figure something out."

Alexa rolls over to face Asia, "Fine. I'll ask her. But it's Friday night, right? We're supposed to help Tara move." She pauses, thinking. "If I flirt just enough, I bet I can get Bert to drive us. Maybe Tara covers for us. Maybe."

Asia beams. "That's a maybe I can live with."

Down a long, stone, dark hallway in another residence room, Sister Carolyn wipes tears while she sits on the edge of her bed. Carolyn blows her nose. Sister Willa is nearby, fidgeting with her healing wrist.

Carolyn's voice trembles, "Willa, I don't know if I can do this. You want me to just come right out to Sister Tabby, I'm pregnant? Like, just frankly spit it out!"

Willa, trying to help, "This kind of thing has happened before. You're not the first. There've been rumors over the years. Things whispered through the grapevine. You wouldn't be the first."

Carolyn's eyes widen, "That doesn't make it easier."

Sister Willa warmly smiles and says, "I'm just saying. Tabby's strict, yeah. But at least she will know what to do."

Carolyn leans forward, "I don't even know what I want. To keep it or not, I, um, I can't think straight." She shakes her head as she speaks.

Willa moves to sit beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Warmly Willa says, "Whatever you choose, I'll support you. But you have to talk to her, Carolyn. Please."

The next morning, during General Sunday Mass at St. Rose Church. Emily, the dancer from The Silver Mirage, sits quietly in a pew, flanked by her disapproving mother-in-law and her fidgety five-year-old son, who climbs his seat like a jungle gym.

She hushes him, whispering, "Please, please sit still, just for five more minutes."

As she adjusts him on her lap, her eyes wander. Two rows back, off to the right. A nun in a full veil. Familiar face. Emily squints, 'Where do I know her from?'

Sister Tara glances up. Her eyes lock with Emily's and widen. She quickly lowers her head, hiding beneath her formal Sunday veil. Tara recognizes the Dorthy Hamill haircut right away and knows who is sitting in church. 'That woman a couple of rows ahead is the ballerina stripper.' She watched her strip the night of Taylor's photo shoot.

After the service, Emily turns to her mother-in-law, "Can you take him a sec? I just want to ask that nun something." She posts in the general direction of a few nuns standing and chatting.

She walks toward Tara, who's speaking with a small group of sisters. Emily approaches cautiously. "Excuse me, Sister? My name's Emily. I, uh, don't mean to intrude, but." She hesitates, "You look familiar."

Tara smiles politely. "Hmm. Maybe you've seen me here before, at St. Rose?"

Emily nods. "Yes, yes, that must be it. I was here a few months ago. Sorry to interrupt."

"No bother at all," Tara says with a gentle wave. "May the Lord be with you."

Emily smiles and turns back toward her family. Tara watches her leave.

Tara turns to the other nuns. "Well. I got word that the Abbot arrives Friday. He wants to speak with me and with Sister Tabby. After that, he'll decide who becomes the permanent Mother Superior."

Sister Andrea perks up, "He'll choose you, Tara. Everyone loves you."

Tara forces a small smile, "I'll do my best." But her eyes trail back toward Emily, still visible near the church doors, walking hand in hand with her son.

A few nights later, at The Silver Mirage. The lights dim, and the haunting notes of Because the Night set the mood, deep and echoing. Emily, whose stage name is Chérie, steps onto the stage. Her worn and tattered pointe shoes glide her otherwise nude, muscular body lightly to the center of the stage floor. Her pale skin takes on a blue hue as it mixes with the spotlights.  

Moving slowly, arms rising, her frame produces long, precise lines. Emily's movements, carved from ballet, clean and precise, charm the crowd. Her tits are soft but full and her legs perfectly toned, which only accentuates her perfect round ass. The music swells, she performs full pointe before lowering into a slow spiral. Emily blurs the lines between classical dance and something more raw and exposed.

She circles the pole at center stage. With long, sweeping steps, one hand tracing the cool metal, the other raised with fingers pointed high toward the ceiling lights. Then she ascends, as every eye in the place follows her upward. At the top of the pole, she spreads her legs wide and rotates slowly to the rhythm of Patti Smith's mesmerizing voice.

Halfway through the song, Emily gives a glance to the left of the stage. That corner, the dark one with the wobbly table and the small chair. She now sees what she could not put together. It is like a light bulb just went on bright in her head. She has figured it out. The nun at St. Rose was the girl named Tara. She sat in that exact chair one cold winter night. A full face of makeup was a different look. But it was her. Emily is sure of it. That out-of-place girl who was unsure of her surroundings is a nun.

Emily descends in a slow corkscrew, legs spread wide for all to see. She lets go of the pole and lands with the slightest touch, transitions back to ballet, elongated lines, fluid turns, everything shifts. She now knows who the mystery girl was that night.

The next day at St Rose. The chapel empties slowly after Morning Prayers. Nuns scatter in different directions, toward their daily assignments.

Sister Tara pushes open the side door of the convent, heading for the Sky Chicken. The rush of the Grand River can be heard in the background. Tara sees her.

Emily. Leaning casually against the hood of a faded minivan, waiting for the Sister.

Tara freezes mid-step.

Emily straightens up. "Good morning, Sister Tara," she says.

Tara responds, "Emily, of course I remember you, hello. Is everything alright?"

Emily smiles, "I remember now when we first met. I figured it out." Emily steps closer, "Where I had seen you before. It wasn't at Mass in church." Her eyes narrow. "You were at The Silver Mirage. You were sitting at the corner of the stage, one cold night, watching."

Tara says nothing. Her lips part slightly, but no sound comes out.

Emily continues, voice low but firm, "You had a face full of makeup and were wearing sweats."

Tara exhales through her nose, voice calm but taut, "Yes, I told you I was coming from a photo shoot. I was at the club that night. I was curious. I loved your ballet, you were mesmerizing."

Emily a bit surprised by Tara's honesty, "So here's my question: Why would a nun be sitting in a strip club, staring at dancers like she's on a scouting mission?"

Tara doesn't move. After a long silence, finally, she speaks. Quiet, controlled, "Because I wanted to see another world that I had nothing to do with."

Emily blinks, caught off guard, "Excuse me?"

Tara continues, "That night. I had just come from a photographer's studio, where I modeled. I drove by the club and went in. It was like my car just pulled into the club."

Emily raises an eyebrow, "And you decided to watch me strip and dance nude?"

Tara looks over her shoulder to make sure they are alone, "I wasn't there for you, specifically. Watching you dance, I didn't see anything shameful." Tara lowers her voice and looks upward,   "I saw a ballerina, beautiful and expressing her art in dance." I went there looking for, I don't know." Tara continues, "A question I hadn't found the answer to yet."

Emily's tone wavers, "And you're a nun."

"Yes, I'm a nun," Tara says. "People all around me were losing themselves, and I realized I was one of them. That night brought me closer to a realization."

Emily steps back slightly, "You're weird, you know that?"

Tara almost smiles, "I've been called worse."

Emily looks down, kicks a loose stone, "My kid thinks nuns are boring. You might've just blown his whole worldview."

Tara finally smiles, "Let him think that a little longer."

Emily nods, then looks at her seriously, "I won't say anything. About the club. About you."

"Thank you," Tara replies, genuinely.

Emily turns and walks away toward her minivan.

Tara loudly states, "Wait."

Emily, "Yes, Sister, what is it?"

Tara walks over to her new confidant, "There's more, a whole lot more." Tara, can't believe she is stating it out loud, "I danced at Bonita's Spice Sweet Spice on amateur night."

Emily raised her eyebrows, "Wait. You mean you danced there?"

Tara nodded, "Amateur contest. Just like you told me about."

It was now Emily's turn to speak the unimaginable, "You're a nun and you danced nude, at an amateur contest? Why are you telling me this?" 

Tara takes a deep breath that is as loud as the rush of the river, "I need to tell someone, anyone. I need to confide in you. You figured it out anyway." Tara continues, "I went a second time and won the prize money."

Emily was practically weak in the knees, "So a nun won the amateur contest at Bonita's. Wow! Wow, now I've heard everything. I must admit you are pretty enough to win even with your clothes on."

Tara smiles for the first time, "Let me assure you, I took everything off, everything. I did leave my shoes on." Chuckling, "When I won. They offered me a spot. Full-time. I'm, um, I'm, thinking about stripping there on Friday."

There was a silence then. Emily leaned back against her minivan. "You're serious about this?"

"I think so," Tara said. "I don't want to live a split life anymore. I'm not sure, but maybe not." Sister Tara shrugs.

Emily nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing as she thought, "If you're serious," she said finally, "you shouldn't stay at Bonita's."

Tara blinked. "Why not?"

"It's flashy, yeah. But it's not safe. Not steady. Not, respected." She turned toward Tara fully. "If you really want to do this, you should strip at  The Silver Mirage."

Tara's eyes widened. "You think they'd take me?"

"A girl left last week. There is an opening. I can talk to the owner. If you've got talent, and you've got a little fire." Emily smiled. "That's what they care about."

Tara relieved, "You'd help me?"

"Of course," Emily said. "You once saw me, not just the stripper, but me. Now it's your turn."

Emily turns to get into her van, and she pauses and glances over her shoulder. Tara, "Have you ever thought maybe. God hangs out in the dark corners, too?"

Tara gazes upward and listens as the sound of the Grand River fills her senses, she exhales. The nun looks toward the river, then back at Emily, "More than we want to admit."