Beloved Evil

ONE

The four women in black took each other's hands and closed their eyes, their faces so peaceful, it was as if they had collectively put themselves to rest.

All except for one, had deep wrinkles adoring their soft faces, but none of them looked like the product of stress. It looked like they had accepted the process of aging with open arms, and their faces had therefore not faded, but comfortably matured. Even the one woman in black, who looked to be much younger than the rest, had an equally mature and wise expression, even with her eyes closed. It was like the four of them had a secret, as if they knew something no one else did.

The grace was said by the woman who looked young enough to simply be a novice and not a nun. Her voice was soft as she thanked God for the food in front of them, before the rest of the women chimed in with a gentle: "Amen."

They opened their eyes and they let go of each other's hands.

"Could you imagine?"

Tara, who had been standing in a trance by the cash register woke up and turned her head to look at her friend.

"What?"

"Being a nun," Nettie explained, looking at the women again, who were now talking amongst themselves with quiet voices, not like the rest of the customers who were telling stories with grand hand gestures and arguing with their partner over cheeseburger and fries.

"No men, no women, no fun," Nettie continued dramatically, earning a laugh from Tara who shook her head at her friend, curiously looking back at the four women.

"They look so content," she said, quickly tearing her gaze away again so they wouldn't catch her starring, continuing what she was doing at the register.

"Why don't you go ask them if you can join their cult then?" Nettie said teasingly.

Tara snorted.

"Don't you have something to do?" she asked, but Nettie just ignored her and continued her monolog about nuns and how they could manage to survive without red cup parties and Tinder.

Tara looked around the restaurant. It wasn't as busy at this time a day. Most people came in either early in the morning or in the evening for dinner. Her boss, who was talking with one of the other waitresses, caught her eye and winked at her. Tara smiled politely and quickly looked away.

Cal, who was well in his forties, had hired her about a year ago and hadn't stopped flirting with her since. He did it to most of the girls there, but where Nettie could put him in his place, Tara could not. She tried to but couldn't help but feel uncomfortable under his intense stare. It was a stable job thought and she needed the money. Plus, Nettie was there, and no amount of creepy bosses could willingly tear her away from Nettie.

"–I just feel like religion holds you back. Especially when you go to such extremes."

Tara, who hadn't heard a single word her friend was saying, now looked at her again, her eyebrows meeting in the middle.

"Wait, aren't you catholic?"

Nettie rolled her eyes. "If you ask my parents," she said, toying with the small cross hanging from her neck. "You should be happy you were raised by protestants. When I dyed my hair, my mom told me I would end up in hell. Protestants don't believe in hell, right?"

"Nettie!"

The two girls looked up to see who had interrupted them, and spotted Cal walking towards them.

"Here we go again," Nettie mumbled before he came too close. 

He smiled at Tara, his straight, white teeth, that Nettie swore he didn't have last year, almost blinding her.