Unwed 💍

Chapter Six: Poor Butterfly

A second nun met them at the top of the stairs. She looked a bit younger, her face round in her white habit. Her blue eyes shone in contrast with her pale skin when she smiled.

"Sister Martha." Sister Mary Helen greeted her. "Glad to see you up and about."

"Thank you Sister, I feel much better. I'll take the girl to her dormitory now," Sister Martha offered.

Sister Mary Helen nodded and left. Pictures of saints adorned the walls in elegant frames. They were the one extravagance the old home boasted. Izzy followed behind the new nun, feeling like a lost puppy, her chest tight with anxiety as they made their way down the dimly lit hallway.

She presumed dormitory meant she'd be staying in a room with other girls. Studying the pictures on the walls, she wondered what they'd be like. Would their situation similar?
Or, were they the type of girls her mother whispered about at her tea parties, the ones with no self respect or self control, throwing themselves at men—even the married ones. She shuddered.

The nun stopped at last door near the end of the hall and knocked lightly before turning the handle. "This is where you'll reside," she said.

They passed through the open door into a large room with four single beds. Two of the three girls looked up from their knitting and eyed her curiously. The third, a fragile looking little thing, sat on her bed with her knees pulled up, staring out the window.

"Girls, this is your new roommate, Isadora," Sister Martha announced.

She turned to Izzy, her eyes scrutinizing. "You'll need to change into the appropriate attire." She motioned towards an empty bed where a neatly folded pile of gray clothes sat. "Gloria, Rita, and Dottie will help you get acquainted with your surroundings. Dinner is in an hour."

She turned to leave, then spun back around. "And, you won't be needing this." She grabbed Izzy's suitcase. "You can collect it when you're discharged."

Izzy stood in the middle of the room, watching as Sister Martha carried her suitcase away. When she left, Izzy turned, her face burning at the gaze of the two girls sitting together on a bed.

One of them, a tall blonde, threw down her knitting needles and bounced to her feet. "Close the door," she ordered.

Izzy faltered, looking from the girls to the door.

"Come on now," the girl pushed past her, and nudged the door shut. "Nothing to be afraid of. There aren't any virgins here to judge you."

"Gloria!" exclaimed the girl who was sitting next to her. "You're frightening her!"

Izzy stared at Gloria in shock. What a vulgar thing to say! She was trying to wrap her head around it, when the insistent girl grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to sit with them on the bed.

"So, what's your story?" Her green eyes were wide, with lashes were so long and thick, Izzy could have sworn she had on mascara—which, she recalled, was forbidden.

"Well? Don't just sit there with your mouth hanging open, tell us what brought you here!" Gloria grabbed her hands, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Really, Gloria, you are too much!" the other girl chided. She gave Izzy her an apologetic look. "She's really a peach when you get past her rough edges. I'm Rita, by the way, nice to meet you."

She held out a hand, and Izzy extracted hers from Gloria's grip to shake it. While Gloria could have been the next Marilyn Monroe, Rita had a genuine sweetness about her that immediately set Izzy at ease. Her shoulder length brown hair fell in tight ringlets around her soft face. Her eyes seemed to hold both warmth and sadness at the same time.

"Sister Mary Helen said we aren't supposed to share personal information," Izzy said.

Gloria rolled her eyes. "How did a goody two shoes like you end up in a place like this?"

Izzy winced.

Gloria immediately patted her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." She let out an exaggerated sigh. "It's just maddening—being cooped up in this place all day long. We aren't supposed to mingle with the other girls, so I'm stuck with these two." She motioned towards the little girl, still staring out of the window. "And Dottie's not much of a talker."

Izzy's eyes trailed over to Dottie. The little girl gave her a cautious glance, immediately turning her gaze back to the window. Izzy would have loved to know her story, but would never ask in front of her.

"How far along are you?" Gloria asked. She pressed her hands to her own belly, her plain gray dress wrapping around a protruding bump that Izzy hadn't even noticed. "The doctor says I must be seven months—the kicking is nonstop lately."

"I'm eight," Rita joined in, smoothing her dress over her belly. "It feels as if there isn't much room left inside me at this point. I've been scared lately that my skin will simply tear in two."

Izzy blushed and shivered at the same time. It was all too much—discussing such private things with complete strangers. She tried to change the subject. "What were you knitting earlier?"

"Oh that," Gloria rolled her eyes again. "One of our duties here is to knit clothes for our babies—so we have something to give them—before they take them away."

"Oh." Izzy's eyes shifted to the little layettes on the bed. She wasn't sure why it made her feel so sad to see them laying there. She didn't want to keep the baby—in fact, she wished it would just disappear.

"I didn't know how to knit at all at first," Rita said. "Gloria had to teach me. My first attempts were complete failures."

"Unless your baby's born with one arm and a leg," joked Gloria. "Then, they'd be perfect."

As they exploded in giggles, Izzy stood up and grabbed a gray dress from the pile of folded clothes on her bed.

"The bathroom's down the hall," said Rita, between giggles. "Or, you could just change here."

Izzy gave them a weak smile and hurried out of the room.

Finally alone, she took a deep breath of air and blew it out slowly. The back of her neck was throbbing, and she reached up to rub it. Without warning, hot tears sprang into her eyes, and it was all she could do to keep herself from wailing in the echoing stone hall. At the same time, an intense boiling rage popped up out of nowhere. Her hands clenched the ugly gray dress with so much force, she could feel her nails dig into her palms. It wasn't fair! She'd always been a good girl—followed all the rules. Then Donny came around and took everything from her, he ruined her life.

Her jaw was clenched so tight that her gums began to throb as she swung open the bathroom door. To her relief, no one else was inside. On one side was a row of stalls, and the other a row of curtained showers. She drew back a slightly mildewed curtain and stepped inside. She couldn't help thinking, as she removed her pretty blue skirt and white flowered blouse, that along with her clothing she was removing the last of herself. The last of her dreams of marrying and raising a perfect little family. Her carefree, happy life lie in a heap on the bathroom floor.

She slipped on the gray, oversized dress, an appropriate symbol of what her life had become. She sat down and pulled her knees to her chin on the hard shower tile.Taking advantage of the seclusion of the bathroom, she let herself cry all of her tears out in painful, wrenching sobs.

When she was finally finished, fatigue swept over her, and it was all she could do to lift herself off of the floor.

That's when she heard it. Screams—faint at first, then with growing intensity. It sounded as if they were coming from somewhere downstairs.

"Please!" a girl's voice pleaded, " please help me!"

The desperate words were followed by more painful screams. Terrified, Izzy gathered up her clothes and fled out of the bathroom towards her room.

Thanks for reading Unwed! Please vote if you enjoyed it! Anything I can do better, or that you don't understand, let me know. What are your feelings on Izzy's room mates? See you next week!