Sister Mabel walked into the amphitheatre with a sheet of paper in her hand and the other nuns looked frightened. It was their outcomes from their Bible studies; whether they could graduate into nuns or not. The girls wanted this with all their hearts. Naturally, their hearts were filled with suspense and tension before they found out their outcomes.

“Attention! Attention!” she called out and the nuns looked at her expectantly like little children. “Could you each take a seat please so that we may be able to proceed?”

They each paced around and between the seats in the amphitheatre, not knowing where to sit.

Sister Mabel and the assessor laughed secretly, seeing the degree of panic in the room. Sister Mabel left it to the assessor to address the girls and there were nods and light clapping to show agreement and consensus. The moment that they had been waiting for finally arrived. Sister Mabel ascended the pulpit with the paper still in her hand to announce those who passed and those who needed to retake the assessments.

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife.

“Right,” she started off by saying.

The girls wiggled in their chairs. Some cleared their throats. Some moved to the edge of their seats. But all was well; all had passed successfully but they just did not know at this moment.

The sister delivered the news to the girls and there was an uproar of cheers and clapping and singing and praying. The moment was light and jubilant and victorious. The girls rushed over and hugged Sister Mabel who had been their teacher throughout their studies.

Sister Mabel was in conflict over how she was going to deliver these good news to the Bishop. She decided she would leave the letter of results on his study table when he was out or slip the paper under the door of his study. So far it seemed as he did not respond well to letters slipped under the door of his study as he had not addressed her on her letter.

“To each his own then,” she muttered to herself loudly, blocking any kind of emotion from surfacing and subjecting herself to pain once again.

“You did well Mabel you ought to be proud of yourself,” she heard a voice saying.

She turned and found the assessor standing behind her with the Bishop.

“Sorry, I saw you and the girls having a moment so I slipped out to come greet Donald,” she explained.

Mabel just shrugged her shoulders indicating to the assessor that all was well. She had not seen the Bishop in such close proximity since the day he called her a liar and a thief.

“Graduations?” asked the assessor. “Would I be correct to think they will be next month?”

Neither the Bishop nor Sister Mabel answered. They were struck cold by the reality of what the assessor had just put to them. They had reached a cul-de-sac. They had nowhere else to run. They had reached the end of their denial. It was time to sit and have a confrontation, an interrogation, a trial.

How were they going to plan this event without working together? How were they going to plan this event if they were not communicating with one another? How were they going to be victorious if they were cold and bitter and full of hate? How was this reflective of the lessons of brotherly love they preached to the nuns? How was this reflective of love in any kind of love, even erotic love?

“Mabel,” the assessor called out, nudging her for some kind of answer to her question.

Sister Mabel just nodded and the date was confirmed.

***

Tell us: Would this relationship ever be mended?