Entry #13

Adan

Imagine my shock when I saw Captain Gonzalo standing in the infirmary’s doorway. Pepita was greeting him in… seemingly the only way she knew how. Two large hands moved around her hips, tugging her against him, bringing her parted lips to his own waiting mouth. I cringed, and stepped away from the curtain. I saw them pull away from each other.

“I saw something.”

“Dammit,” I heard Pepita hiss. “I will meet you in the stable. Go.”

The infirmary door shut, and in a matter of moments Pepita had stormed her way over to Carmen’s bedside. She threw back the white curtain, and penetrated my started gaze with her own steely glare.

“Will you not mind your own business, woman?”

I thought about backing down, but balled my fists and stood my ground. “I do not know why you dislike me so much. You have been hateful since I have come here. Since Carmen has come here.”

“You really want to know? I do not trust you, woman. I do not trust you. Just because you wear the black and white does not mean you are not altogether without fault and damage, and yet you look down on me.”

“I never - !”

“Ridiculous. You and her both. You see the devil in all things. Do you see the devil in me, little sister?”

I glowered defiantly at her. “He is a married man, Pepita, and Lope hurts you. I do not see the devil in you or them, I only see someone lost, fooling themselves into thinking such deception and manipulation is love.”

“What do you know, little sister? What do you know of any of it?”

The curtain folded over as she released it and stormed off, slamming the infirmary door behind her. I heard momentary stirring from the usually still and restful patients, and then silence. How long did I stand there? I am not sure, Adan. I stood there for quite a while, so surprised by her outburst. How could she accuse me of judgment? She had judged me rotten upon first seeing me! I will admit, my thoughts of Pepita have been disapproving, but have I ever found her wretched for what she has done? Never.

The next morning, I took my breakfast in the infirmary with Carmen. I fed her, and read to her Bible versus. Pepita and Doctor Gil were busy with other patients, so I set to cleaning Carmen. I had seen the doctor and Pepita do so before. I knew how much water was needed, how much soap, where the brushes were. Carmen was washed head to toe, I scrubbed her skin softly, not wanting to apply too much pressure. I prayed and imagined myself washing away her sickness. I lined her red hair over my arm, and stroked the dull strands until they shined. I coaxed any knots free, and then wrapped her hair in a cloth. I fastened the back of her slip and tuck her back under the covers with the lightest of touches. In all of this time, she had nodded to sleep. I looked up from work to see Pepita standing with her arms crossed. The curtain swayed behind her, trying to settle. She must have just arrived.

“Good morning,” I said hoarsely.

“Will you come with me?”

I eyed her. “You are not going to yell at me again, are you? I do not think I could handle such chastisement again.”

“No, obviously. Just follow me, yes?”

I did as she asked, but only after considering the question, the outcome of following her. There was a wave of brashness, I admit, that accompanied a strange stubbornness I felt toward Pepita. If I were to be initiated, I need to cast off such personal offenses. Maybe Pepita really needed me, maybe she wanted to vent. In any case, I had to weather her storm.

I followed.

She led me back into the mission, and we passed into another off-shooting corridor. She unlocked the door, and showed me a simple and small room with a tiny window overlooking the forest and hill. There was a crucifix above her bed, an armoire off to the side, and a chest at the end of her bed. A few dresses and sandals were scattered about the room. There was a small library, and there were sketches disarrayed on a modest desk.

“This is your room?”

“Yes.”

“It is nice,” I said, merely making conversation.

Pepita shut the door, and hesitated with her hand against it. “I am sorry,” she murmured.

I glanced back. “I should apologize to you. I did judge you, you are right.”

“I do love Lope. He is terrible to me. He is hurtful. But I have lived in a world that has given me nothing but hurt. Why should his be any worse than what I have seen? What I have felt?”

“If he is not hurting you, why do you turn to the Captain?”

“Hermana,” she walked past me and sat on her chest. “Sometimes my body needs a rest. The Captain will make love to me. He is rough, but he is not abusive. I enjoy his touch, I enjoy him inside me, and I… Hermana, you are blushing.”

“The details are simply alarming. Why tell me all of this now?”

“I judged you as well, and perhaps I should not have been so quick to. You have cared for your friend when you could have abandoned her to us. So many patients in there are alone.”

“Why?”

Pepita shrugged. “I am not a wretched girl, and I do not need your pity in matters of Lope. The Captain’s infidelity is his decision, not mine. He has been drawn to me since I met him. This, I cannot help. I have avoided him, but he still has pursued me since I came here a year ago. I make love to him because it gives him some sort of solace. Reminds him he is a man.”

“Does Lope know?”

Pepita was silent, and I winced deeply. Pepita sighed. “He would be furious.” Suddenly, she sat up, she stood, she took me by the shoulders firmly. “If you tell him - ”

I pulled away, disgusted. “I have nothing to say to him!”

“There is no one I can speak to here.”

“The Fathers offer confession.”

“I do not want their godly recommendation. My Heavenly relations are not what they used to be.”

“Pepita,” I ventured, the tense moment between us passed now that we were not referring to Lope. “What has happened to you?”

I watched her gather her sketches on the table. Still lives and portraits of patients I recognized from the infirmary. One was a child asleep in a bed under the third window from the door. That bed has not been occupied since Carmen came to recover there.

“I should get back. I cannot leave Doctor Gil for too long. He falls apart without me there, stupid goat,” she rolled her eyes and chuckled.

When we returned to the courtyard, we found Carmen! She was standing at the wooden gate that separated the mission from the side of the hill. Her steps were staggered, each stride staggered and shaking. Doctor Gil emerged from the infirmary, looking about frantically until he found her. Pepita and I exchanged a look. She took off, running along side of Doctor Gil. They both caught up with Carmen just before her foot could touch the soil. Carmen reacted combatively, and started to fling her arms in an attempt to break free. Her fist connected with Pepita’s neck, and the nurse stumbled away, clutching her throat and coughing. The doctor seized Carmen. He caught her around the wrists from behind and she crumbled, screaming, to the ground.

Her screams became heaving sobs. Doctor Gil gathered her, holding her tightly against him as he cradled her in his arms. He began striding back across the courtyard. Pepita was his shadow once more. He fixed her with a dirty look, the first I had ever seen him express.

“Where were you?” Doctor Gil did not wait for an answer as he ducked back into the infirmary. “No visitors!” He called back, specifically aiming that howl at me I should think. Pepita stopped, and her usually strong features melted into a helplessness.

“I am sorry, Nieve. You should go. Come back later tonight.”

But I would not. I took dinner alone in my room, but I would not eat. I broke down. Carmen and I had been fast friends since our candidacy, and before that we attended mass and holidays with our families in Seville. She was not just my sister by profession, she was like a blood relative, and I was watching her deteriorate, constantly tricking myself into thinking she was improving as she wasted away.

A knock at my door roused me.

“Leave me alone!” I called before I could stop myself.

“Hermana Nieve? It is Father Alvarelo. Please, come to the door.”

I sighed, and looked at the door as if Father Alvarelo had already made his way across my threshold. My fingers dragged under my eyes, clearing away the tears from my cheeks. No doubt my gaze was still red and glimmering, however. My progress to the door was slow as I tried to mend my face, wiping my cheeks and neck free of any and all tears. I opened the door, and Father Alvarelo flinched. My quick clean had done little to improve my appearance.

“Hermana Nieve,” he exhaled, brows knit. “You have been weeping.”

“My days are not as simple as they used to be.”

“I am afraid what I am about to ask will not make them any simpler.”

I took a breath, and offered my best attempt at a smile. “I had a feeling you might say that.”

He smiled too, but not out of relief. He was nervous. “The Mamas in the Tairona Village. They want to see me.”

“Then… I wish you the safest travel, Father.”

“They want to see you too.”