New Fic: Forty-One
May. 5th, 2009 05:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: Forty-One
Fandom: Doubt (film)
Pairing: Sister James/Sister Aloysius
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I have no rights where Doubt is concerned. John Patrick Shanley wrote Doubt and his words humble me.
Author's Note: This fic has been in my head for a little while now, but the writing of it was prompted by the drabble meme that's been going around.
somniesperus and
la_fono both requested Doubt drabbles (about "love" and "why" respectively), and I decided to write a short story instead. I'll hopefully get around to writing the drabbles eventually, but in the meantime I hope you're okay with sharing 1,500 words instead of getting 100 of your own. This story is dedicated to both of you, and to
pin_drop who recently wrote about Gethsemane and who talks to me about dreams!
March 3
Sister James gives up snacking and gossip for Lent; Sister Aloysius gives up Sister James.
She informs Sister James of this on Ash Wednesday. They’re sitting on their bench, appropriately enough, and though evening Mass has already happened the sun is only now sinking behind the trees and endless brick buildings that block out the horizon.
“If anyone asks, I gave up sugar,” Sister Aloysius says, just after she stands to go back inside. She looks over her shoulder, as if to give Sister James opportunity to speak, but neither of them say anything. The ashen cross on her forehead makes her look even more stern than usual, but Sister James wonders if she’s joking—about the sugar, that is, and about the idea that someone else in the order might dare to question her Lenten devotions. She certainly hadn’t been teasing when she explained—rather stiltedly, almost shakily—that their friendship was “unhealthy” and “improper.” That a break will do them both good. Of course Sister James has no choice in the matter, doesn’t get the chance to say whether or not she’d like to be given up.
Sister James sits stunned for the better part of a half-hour, rising from the bench only when the sun is so low that the air becomes cold. She has always loved early March, the first hints of winter’s predictable but fantastic weakening. This winter has been particularly unsettling, and she can’t wait to feel it disappear. She had been about to say as much when Sister Aloysius started talking instead.
It occurs to her, as she makes her way toward her room, that perhaps she should be flattered. People are supposed to give up things they’d prefer to keep around: Lent is intended to be difficult, a preparation for Christ’s ultimate suffering, for redemption. Sister Aloysius doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but her dependence on Sister James (for a listening ear, companionship, the compassion she refuses to admit she needs) has started to become obvious. Sister James tries to avoid thinking about how people—if they really want to do Lent right—give up what they love, or more specifically what they love even though they shouldn’t. She doesn’t think she wants to be someone’s sin, a guilt that must be purged.
--
March 26
Forty days last a long time, and forty nights even longer. They don’t even count Sundays, although Sundays in Lent drag on, not at all like miniature Easters. The nights notwithstanding, Sister James and Sister Aloysius see each other about as much as they ever did. They work together, dine together, live together, and Lent changes very little about their schedules.
Twenty days in, Sister James wakes up thinking, Halfway there. Halfway there. Halfway there. The thought doesn’t scare her, but the urgent momentum behind it does. Halfway to what? It’s entirely possible Sister Aloysius is so relieved by their separation that nothing will start back up between them when the Lenten season ends. She certainly doesn’t miss the sugar, which she’s given up for form’s sake, and Sister James has realized that she herself never spent quite as much time gossiping as she thought. The order has been entirely close-lipped about Father Flynn’s departure, which already feels distant, and Father Sullivan is so boring that she sometimes thinks the Lord must have picked him to punish them for stirring up trouble. Not, of course, that the trouble is entirely regrettable.
Halfway there, and not halfway back to gossip or snacks or sugary tea, either. She’s nervous at the front of her classroom for the first time since she got back from visiting her family, and William London is back-talking her right as Sister Aloysius walks in to observe. Humiliated, she stutters through the rest of her lesson, and feels painfully young.
At the end of the school day, Aloysius walks past the small school chapel that hardly ever gets used anymore, and sees Sister James sitting alone, staring straight at the crucifix. There are three pews in the chapel, but Aloysius sits down right next to her. They look at each other, saying nothing, and Sister Aloysius strokes the back of Sister James’ hand with her fingers. She gets up immediately after that, and they don’t talk at all for two days. Sister James stays in the chapel a few minutes longer. She realizes she is a temptation, and the thought makes her smile.
“I broke a promise,” Sister Aloysius says the next time she Confesses, and lies when prompted to elaborate. She imagines Mary sitting with the priest in the other side of the booth, and silently confesses the lie to her, wants to tell her everything.
“I struggle with vanity,” Sister James says in the same booth, and smiles again. At least no one can see her.
The weather gets calmer. Theoretically the quieting of the storms should allow Sister James to sleep better, but she often wakes up in the middle of the night, her thoughts and heart racing from her dreams.
She dreams about the beginning, when Sister Aloysius got sick soon after Father Flynn left. Influenza, probably, and it was odd that Sister James was one of the few who didn’t get it, considering how much time she spent at Aloysius’ bedside.
When she started taking care of her—a task the other nuns relinquished quite willingly—she remembered Sister Aloysius crying in the snow just a few days earlier, and had whispered, “We spent a lot of time out in the cold.”
“That isn’t why a person gets sick,” Aloysius replied, her voice hoarse and far away.
She tells herself over and over that the first time she fell asleep in Sister Aloysius’ room was an accident, though its repetitions weren’t accidental at all. Now, wrapped up in March and Lent and forced distance, she dreams most frequently about the night she woke up to find Aloysius nestled against her in what was finally a deep sleep, an arm draped around her midsection, a hand possessively sprawled against her abdomen.
It is impossible for her to forget how she felt in that moment, realizing she had in that strange scene exactly what she wanted. She’d laid awake for over an hour that night, playacting a fatherless family—a family that didn’t even have a real baby—and willed Sister Aloysius to stay asleep so she wouldn’t see her tears. She had decided then to reserve her guilt for that moment. Everything after that awful fantasy would pale in comparison. It was easy, after that, to hold hands with each other instead of with themselves in prayer, to sleep in the same bed but to start out the night as far apart as the mattress would allow.
Now, in this springtime that is far less warm than a fever in January, Sister James is solitary but has already had so much of another person that she cannot be alone. She throws herself into preparations for Easter, takes pleasure in reading Matthew, the pages yet to come.
--
April 18
There’s the chance to get a few hours’ sleep after Midnight Mass on Easter morning. Sister James waits until the hallway is quiet, until she’s sure everyone is settled into their beds for what’s left of the night, before she sneaks to Sister Aloysius’ room. She knocks very softly on the door, and the immediate, almost resigned “Yes?” tells her that she isn’t an entirely unexpected visitor.
“Happy Easter, Sister,” she says to Aloysius, who is sitting up, not in bed but on top of it. The covers are neatly folded, and the room is dark save for streaks of milky light coming in through the parted curtains. Some of the light lands on the rosary in Sister Aloysius’ hands, but Sister James doesn’t think she’s interrupted a prayer.
“He isn’t risen yet,” Sister Aloysius says, but she scoots over to make room on the bed designed to fit one person. They’ve already had the Vigil, so the accuracy of her statement is debatable. Actually, Sister James has always imagined that He pushed aside the rock right about now, with plenty of darkness left, but she knows what Aloysius means.
They haven’t been this close in proximity for twenty days, or close in this exact way for just over forty. Overcome, Sister James leans in and kisses Sister Aloysius. They have never done this. The kiss is close-mouthed, brief, nearly safe.
Aloysius gasps a little, and says, “You don’t get poisoned, do you?”
There isn’t anything to say to that, so they kiss again. It’s the same kind of kiss, but there is time enough in this one to realize that it is good, or, perhaps more precisely, to realize how good it feels.
They don’t fall asleep that night, or even lie down. It isn’t healthy to deprive oneself of sleep, but this is like Gethsemane, a few days late. Sister James thinks of flowers and painted eggs and little girls in lacy pastel dresses, all the lovely things they will see in just a few hours. Things she adores and will never have. Has chosen not to have. Still, she is happy, here in this moment. Sister Aloysius thinks of the buttons on Sister James’ nightgown, how she could reach over and undo them one by one. She is not unhappy to think of this. They stay very still, and when the sun rises, they are looking at it together.
Fandom: Doubt (film)
Pairing: Sister James/Sister Aloysius
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I have no rights where Doubt is concerned. John Patrick Shanley wrote Doubt and his words humble me.
Author's Note: This fic has been in my head for a little while now, but the writing of it was prompted by the drabble meme that's been going around.
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March 3
Sister James gives up snacking and gossip for Lent; Sister Aloysius gives up Sister James.
She informs Sister James of this on Ash Wednesday. They’re sitting on their bench, appropriately enough, and though evening Mass has already happened the sun is only now sinking behind the trees and endless brick buildings that block out the horizon.
“If anyone asks, I gave up sugar,” Sister Aloysius says, just after she stands to go back inside. She looks over her shoulder, as if to give Sister James opportunity to speak, but neither of them say anything. The ashen cross on her forehead makes her look even more stern than usual, but Sister James wonders if she’s joking—about the sugar, that is, and about the idea that someone else in the order might dare to question her Lenten devotions. She certainly hadn’t been teasing when she explained—rather stiltedly, almost shakily—that their friendship was “unhealthy” and “improper.” That a break will do them both good. Of course Sister James has no choice in the matter, doesn’t get the chance to say whether or not she’d like to be given up.
Sister James sits stunned for the better part of a half-hour, rising from the bench only when the sun is so low that the air becomes cold. She has always loved early March, the first hints of winter’s predictable but fantastic weakening. This winter has been particularly unsettling, and she can’t wait to feel it disappear. She had been about to say as much when Sister Aloysius started talking instead.
It occurs to her, as she makes her way toward her room, that perhaps she should be flattered. People are supposed to give up things they’d prefer to keep around: Lent is intended to be difficult, a preparation for Christ’s ultimate suffering, for redemption. Sister Aloysius doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but her dependence on Sister James (for a listening ear, companionship, the compassion she refuses to admit she needs) has started to become obvious. Sister James tries to avoid thinking about how people—if they really want to do Lent right—give up what they love, or more specifically what they love even though they shouldn’t. She doesn’t think she wants to be someone’s sin, a guilt that must be purged.
--
March 26
Forty days last a long time, and forty nights even longer. They don’t even count Sundays, although Sundays in Lent drag on, not at all like miniature Easters. The nights notwithstanding, Sister James and Sister Aloysius see each other about as much as they ever did. They work together, dine together, live together, and Lent changes very little about their schedules.
Twenty days in, Sister James wakes up thinking, Halfway there. Halfway there. Halfway there. The thought doesn’t scare her, but the urgent momentum behind it does. Halfway to what? It’s entirely possible Sister Aloysius is so relieved by their separation that nothing will start back up between them when the Lenten season ends. She certainly doesn’t miss the sugar, which she’s given up for form’s sake, and Sister James has realized that she herself never spent quite as much time gossiping as she thought. The order has been entirely close-lipped about Father Flynn’s departure, which already feels distant, and Father Sullivan is so boring that she sometimes thinks the Lord must have picked him to punish them for stirring up trouble. Not, of course, that the trouble is entirely regrettable.
Halfway there, and not halfway back to gossip or snacks or sugary tea, either. She’s nervous at the front of her classroom for the first time since she got back from visiting her family, and William London is back-talking her right as Sister Aloysius walks in to observe. Humiliated, she stutters through the rest of her lesson, and feels painfully young.
At the end of the school day, Aloysius walks past the small school chapel that hardly ever gets used anymore, and sees Sister James sitting alone, staring straight at the crucifix. There are three pews in the chapel, but Aloysius sits down right next to her. They look at each other, saying nothing, and Sister Aloysius strokes the back of Sister James’ hand with her fingers. She gets up immediately after that, and they don’t talk at all for two days. Sister James stays in the chapel a few minutes longer. She realizes she is a temptation, and the thought makes her smile.
“I broke a promise,” Sister Aloysius says the next time she Confesses, and lies when prompted to elaborate. She imagines Mary sitting with the priest in the other side of the booth, and silently confesses the lie to her, wants to tell her everything.
“I struggle with vanity,” Sister James says in the same booth, and smiles again. At least no one can see her.
The weather gets calmer. Theoretically the quieting of the storms should allow Sister James to sleep better, but she often wakes up in the middle of the night, her thoughts and heart racing from her dreams.
She dreams about the beginning, when Sister Aloysius got sick soon after Father Flynn left. Influenza, probably, and it was odd that Sister James was one of the few who didn’t get it, considering how much time she spent at Aloysius’ bedside.
When she started taking care of her—a task the other nuns relinquished quite willingly—she remembered Sister Aloysius crying in the snow just a few days earlier, and had whispered, “We spent a lot of time out in the cold.”
“That isn’t why a person gets sick,” Aloysius replied, her voice hoarse and far away.
She tells herself over and over that the first time she fell asleep in Sister Aloysius’ room was an accident, though its repetitions weren’t accidental at all. Now, wrapped up in March and Lent and forced distance, she dreams most frequently about the night she woke up to find Aloysius nestled against her in what was finally a deep sleep, an arm draped around her midsection, a hand possessively sprawled against her abdomen.
It is impossible for her to forget how she felt in that moment, realizing she had in that strange scene exactly what she wanted. She’d laid awake for over an hour that night, playacting a fatherless family—a family that didn’t even have a real baby—and willed Sister Aloysius to stay asleep so she wouldn’t see her tears. She had decided then to reserve her guilt for that moment. Everything after that awful fantasy would pale in comparison. It was easy, after that, to hold hands with each other instead of with themselves in prayer, to sleep in the same bed but to start out the night as far apart as the mattress would allow.
Now, in this springtime that is far less warm than a fever in January, Sister James is solitary but has already had so much of another person that she cannot be alone. She throws herself into preparations for Easter, takes pleasure in reading Matthew, the pages yet to come.
--
April 18
There’s the chance to get a few hours’ sleep after Midnight Mass on Easter morning. Sister James waits until the hallway is quiet, until she’s sure everyone is settled into their beds for what’s left of the night, before she sneaks to Sister Aloysius’ room. She knocks very softly on the door, and the immediate, almost resigned “Yes?” tells her that she isn’t an entirely unexpected visitor.
“Happy Easter, Sister,” she says to Aloysius, who is sitting up, not in bed but on top of it. The covers are neatly folded, and the room is dark save for streaks of milky light coming in through the parted curtains. Some of the light lands on the rosary in Sister Aloysius’ hands, but Sister James doesn’t think she’s interrupted a prayer.
“He isn’t risen yet,” Sister Aloysius says, but she scoots over to make room on the bed designed to fit one person. They’ve already had the Vigil, so the accuracy of her statement is debatable. Actually, Sister James has always imagined that He pushed aside the rock right about now, with plenty of darkness left, but she knows what Aloysius means.
They haven’t been this close in proximity for twenty days, or close in this exact way for just over forty. Overcome, Sister James leans in and kisses Sister Aloysius. They have never done this. The kiss is close-mouthed, brief, nearly safe.
Aloysius gasps a little, and says, “You don’t get poisoned, do you?”
There isn’t anything to say to that, so they kiss again. It’s the same kind of kiss, but there is time enough in this one to realize that it is good, or, perhaps more precisely, to realize how good it feels.
They don’t fall asleep that night, or even lie down. It isn’t healthy to deprive oneself of sleep, but this is like Gethsemane, a few days late. Sister James thinks of flowers and painted eggs and little girls in lacy pastel dresses, all the lovely things they will see in just a few hours. Things she adores and will never have. Has chosen not to have. Still, she is happy, here in this moment. Sister Aloysius thinks of the buttons on Sister James’ nightgown, how she could reach over and undo them one by one. She is not unhappy to think of this. They stay very still, and when the sun rises, they are looking at it together.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 01:28 pm (UTC)(On a mostly unrelated note, that DWP story I PM'd you about is with my beta right now. So, it should be posted pretty soon.)
no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 01:17 am (UTC)Somniesperus has already said much of what I admire of this, so I'll just add how much I love how you have Sister James is all over the place in her head and a little on the frilly side, thinking in multiples, whereas Sister Aloysius is spare and to the point and practical. I've not seen the film, but from this I have such a clear picture of these women and the place they live.
In short: ;sldkfja;lskdfgha'lskjdgaskldgj guh.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 01:31 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for your lovely comment. I'm really glad you picked up on how different their thought processes are. "a little on the frilly side"--I really like that. I think she's a good nun but I also think there are a lot of parts of the secular world that she would've really loved.
And you absolutely have to see the film. It's fantastic, so fantastic that I was terrified to write this and dithered for a long time about whether or not I was even going to put my ideas to paper. There's a great (hilarious, actually) scene about secular Christmas songs that I think you might enjoy considering your observations about this story.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 03:32 am (UTC)seriously...just...wow.
this was heartbreaking and beautiful and intense. i don't have words to really accurately how perfect this is.
thank you so much for writing this and for sharing it.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 01:32 pm (UTC)Glee!
Date: 2009-05-06 03:58 am (UTC)I make incoherent and spastic noises of joy. Today was a very long day, not least because I have been awake for waaaay too long. I will return and leave a much more thoughtful comment here when I have slept and collected myself, but for now I just want to say that you made my week with this, and I heart you in a way that is so large as to be scary. And I am beyond flattered that you dedicated it (in part) to me. You win at life.
Re: Glee!
Date: 2009-05-06 01:36 pm (UTC)I think these may be the most fantastic words of feedback I've ever received.
I am so glad you enjoyed the story. Selfishly I look forward to hearing what you specifically liked about it--and, hell, what you didn't like about it (because writers would suck the very bone marrow from a good critic, if even the chance). Still, it is wonderful to hear that you were happy with the story. Thanks so much for reading!
Re: Glee!
From:Re: Glee!
From:Re: Glee!
From:Re: Glee!
From:Re: Glee!
From:no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 04:13 am (UTC)This was beautiful. And it's rather difficult believe it or not for me to put into words what I got from this, what I felt.
Sister Aloysius's unhappiness with where her thoughts lead is not so strange or uncommon. It reminds me of the first time, in college when I realized I was truly attracted to another woman and how recognizing that truth within me warred with my religious upbringing.
Heart racing with wild fear and excitement, when spending weekends together, sharing a bed at her house or mine. I doubt I got a moment of sleep, always afraid that in sleep I would do what I feared to do while awake and at the same time staying awake wanting desperately to hold onto those moments that were so intensely passionate and intimate (at least in my mind).
Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 01:38 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for reading this story, and for sharing how it reminded you of parts of your own life. I am touched that you shared that connection with me. By the end of this story at least, I think Sister Aloysius is happy--I'm not sure if their ultimate ending can be a happy one, but I tried to give them a good moment.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 04:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 01:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 06:05 am (UTC)Sister James gives up snacking and gossip for Lent; Sister Aloysius gives up Sister James.
I mean, this REALLY says it all, doesn't it. But I really do agree with
no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 01:42 pm (UTC)Thanks so much. I'm glad it seemed subtle to you--I struggle with that. I think these characters are definitely on the same side (I also think they were on the same "side" in the conflict of the movie, whether Sister James consistently realized it or not). They're so different from each other that there's bound to be conflict (and, um, they're nuns...*takes moment to hyperventilate over fact that I femslashed nuns*) but I think they very much want to support each other.
I truly appreciate your reading and commenting. Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 06:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 01:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 07:24 am (UTC)No matter what you call it, This story is a perfect example for the real and publishable.
i thoroughly enjoyed it and wished there was more of it.
Perhaps you'll grace us with a sequel? Or come to think of it, just more of this level of writing will do-for any pairing in any universe...
no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 01:44 pm (UTC)I'm not sure if there will be a sequel, but I am definitely going to continue writing and posting. (I write mostly in the DWP fandom, but there's always the chance, I suppose, that I'll write another Doubt story at some point.)
no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 08:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 01:46 pm (UTC)I do think this story has a (sort of) happy ending. Even though I don't think their relationship has much hope of ending fabulously well, I really wanted them both to be happy (or, in Aloysius' case, "not unhappy") in the final scene of this story. I mean, Easter is a big, great day for Catholics, and they're together-ish for the first time in weeks. That's pretty happy, albeit strange.
Thanks again for reading and leaving such a sweet comment.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 08:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 01:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 03:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 06:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 04:53 pm (UTC)xxxx
no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 06:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-06 05:04 pm (UTC)Please do write more. Great job ;)
no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 06:37 am (UTC)I am thrilled that you had this reaction. Thanks so much for sharing it with me, and I'm really glad you enjoyed the story.
When I realized that Sister James was going to like the image of herself as a temptation--not a seductress, nothing sneaky or manipulative, just a point of intense interest for another person--I knew how all the pieces of the story would fit together. It's good to feel wanted, and I don't think she's above that as a character. Nor should she be. I'm really glad that part stuck out to you--thanks again.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 05:29 am (UTC)And there is such a full, wonderfully tender moment of happiness, at the end. Brilliant.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 06:40 am (UTC)And I'm especially glad you felt like the moment at the end was a happy one. I felt strongly that it was. Thanks again for reading and for commenting!
no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 12:58 pm (UTC)I can't say much more because I've only heard of Lent and Ash Wednesday less than five years ago, and there were other terms (Caps made me realise they were not just 'words' I didn't recognise) I still have no clue about, but the story made sense, even without all this knowledge, and even without seeing the movie, so I guess that only means that it is really a great piece. Sweet and gentle. Loved it.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 06:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 06:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-08 03:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 08:22 pm (UTC)Your characterizations were completely spot on and I think the thing I love most is that such seemingly small gestures are given gargantuan importance in their situation because of who and what they are. A simple touch or glance means so much more and their chemistry is mind blowing.
Thanks for this, I look forward to more of your work x
no subject
Date: 2009-05-08 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 10:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-08 03:21 am (UTC)I highly recommend that you watch the movie if you have the chance. It's wonderful. Meryl Streep is great in it, as are the other actors. I love seeing films where every player is fully involved--no "weakest links" in sight.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-08 07:22 pm (UTC)Basically, I loved it. You really captured the tone of the film perfectly, and we're left with such an innocently hopeful ending, that even if these two never have anything more, just having this one moment of not-unhappiness feels like enough.
Thanks for sharing, and hopefully this will act as an impetus for more fiction in this fandom.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-10 03:09 am (UTC)And I was going for that feeling of "enough"--at least for the moment the story ends. Enough and not enough all at once, but enough for Easter morning. I'm glad it felt hopeful to you.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-05-09 05:10 pm (UTC)Sister James tries to avoid thinking about how people—if they really want to do Lent right—give up what they love, or more specifically what they love even though they shouldn’t. She doesn’t think she wants to be someone’s sin, a guilt that must be purged.
God, that is perfect. Perfect because we know that is what Sister James would feel, but even more so because she knows, as do we, that it is what Aloysius would think. That needing another person's compassion, another person's love, even in silence, even without action, must be a sin of omission at least, as if God is somehow not enough.
While I was reading this, I felt as if I were sitting in the dark, slightly damp quiet of church; could smell the incense and furniture polish and the faint, lingering scent of prayers left unanswered. Except, here, in your story, they were.
Thank you for that. And for writing this.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-10 03:17 am (UTC)I like your interpretation of the line you quoted. I think it's absolutely right that Aloysius' dependence on James would leave her feeling weak in some ways. It kind of explains how she'd be able to "give up" a person--it's not that she thinks of Sister James as a thing or a bad habit or a vice, necessarily, but rather that she's gotten used to seeing any earthly needs as part of one category.
I felt as if I were sitting in the dark, slightly damp quiet of church; could smell the incense and furniture polish and the faint, lingering scent of prayers left unanswered. Except, here, in your story, they were.
Thank you again, so much!
no subject
Date: 2009-05-09 05:30 pm (UTC)Although I'm Episcopalian, nearly every person I love, gay and straight, (with truly lovely and notable exceptions) is Catholic and I went to a private Catholic school. Has a nun smacked me in the head with a book in typing class? Yep. Sister Eugenia didn't play! Now, it was basically to get my attention, mind you, and not hard--and I think she was trying to live up to the stern-nun thing.
I never held it against her. She was better and older than me. If she is still alive, I'm completely sure she continues to be both.
And not to get all religious on you, but your story is a pretty nice reflection of parts of the 41st Psalm. Just sayin!
More simply put? Wonderful stuff.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-10 03:24 am (UTC)I'm going to email you because some of what I'd like to say in response is better suited to a more private means of communication, but I do want to respond here by saying that I truly appreciate your reading and commenting. It means a lot, given the people who populate your world, that this story holds up for you.
I'm not familiar (at least not to the point of being able to recall subject matter or particular lines from memory) with very many psalms, so I read Psalm 41 after I got your comment. I'd be very curious to hear where you found the connections with my story. I can see verses 1-4 (especially "The Lord will sustain him on his sickbed and restore him from his bed of illness") and 11-12 "I know that you are pleased with me, for my enemy does not triumph over me. / In my integrity you uphold me and set me in your presence forever."
Thanks again, and you'll be hearing from me!
no subject
Date: 2009-05-10 12:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-10 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-11 12:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-12 02:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-14 08:40 am (UTC)I have absolutely no excuse to why I haven’t commented on this fic until now!! It is fabulous!!
And more from the ladies from doubt is so awesome it’s to hard to describe in words, be cause really, there is entirely to little Doubt fiction out there and I want to thank you so much for contributing to rectify that ^_^
And love the hole distance makes the heart grow fonder theme :-), they really are so lovely together.
Now I just have to come to terms with the fact that I apparently (like so many other her) have a hidden nun fetish, but if there is gonna be more fiction like this lovely story then I guess I’ll just have to cope ;-)
So again thank you, thank you, thank you awesome story ^_^
no subject
Date: 2009-05-17 11:01 pm (UTC)