Merry Sister Mary and the One and Only Killer

2: Sister Mary Curses at God

The bus's breaks screeched and the engine suddenly stopped. I was shaken awake. Alarmed, I glanced around unaware of my surroundings. "Lord in heaven, where the devil am I? Are we in New Orleans yet?"

I quickly stood up, stretched my arms and fixed my coif. I leaned down and put my ear close to the window. A loud chatter of what sounded like a thousand bossy crows echoed from outside. I pulled the curtains back. A bustling crowd of people rushed by showing off the latest fashions. Flared-bottomed pants, colorful mini skirts and high waist culottes filled the industrial air. The pounding roar of a barge and towboat shook the windows. The bus had stopped at a dock overlooking the mighty and quite dingy Mississippi River. Its brown murky waters whirled passed the pier and pontoon ferry creating a sickly concoction of sticks, leaves, and mud.

I had no qualms against countryside drives. Land travel was fine. But water travel. No way. All my life I have had a strict aversion to water. I drank it only if I craved it. I touched it only if, for the love of God, I needed a bath. Other than that, a single unwanted sprinkle on my skin would make me mad with anxiety. There was no reason for me to hate water. I just did. Always have. I thought I hid it well until one summer when my sisters and I traveled to a youth group celebrating a retreat at a lake. I was forcefully dragged onto one of the paddle boats and, honest to God, I lost my shit. The kids called me a witch and occasionally splashed water on me to see if I would melt. To make a long, horrible story short, I did not enjoy that retreat, and children for the most part are monsters.

A boat was out of the question. Cars lined up down a hill towards the ferry waiting patiently for the ramp to drop. I watched with dreadful concern at the swirling water below. "Oh, hell no," I muttered while shaking my head. "Those sisters said this was a bus trip. I ain't getting on any boat."

I heard excessive grunting and yelling coming from outside, just below my window. I glanced down to see bags being shifted in the storage compartments and some onto the backs of strong men. A handful of passengers were already exiting the bus and waiting outside. My clean nostrils flared. I was not having this.

"Excuse me!" I hollered poking my head out of the window while waving at the men in the storage compartment below. The handsome bus assistant was among them. "You hoo! Why the hell have we stopped at a dock? I thought this was a direct route to New Orleans!"

"You are mistaken, Sister," said the assistant begrudgingly. "We have a couple of the passengers to drop off that require us to travel across the river to New Roads and Port Allen. We will cross it again back near Baton Rouge and continue our journey to New Orleans from there. Just a slight detour. Did you not hear us explain it an hour ago?"

"Afraid not," I said alarmed. "I must have slept through that part."

"Not to worry, Sister. We still plan to reach New Orleans by nightfall. Consider the ferry ride to be a happy diversion into scenic, rural Louisiana countryside."

"No, no, no, no!" I pointed an angry finger at the men. There was fear in my voice. "I refuse to get on any boat. This was not part of my agreement. I do not do well on water."

"I assure you it is quite safe," said the assistant. He glanced at the vessel. "It's just across the river, so not far."

"I don't care if it is the gilded throne of God, I am not stepping foot on any boat. I am not accustomed." A loud horn blared.

"Well, Sister," said the assistant as the horn died down. "You better get accustomed real quick. She is about to leave, and it's the last crossing today. Besides, I think you may like the river."

"You thick headed buffoon." I cursed feeling defeated. "If I have to walk to New Orleans, I will walk. No boat for me."

I pushed myself from the window and looked down and around my seat. "No one tells, Sister Mary, what she can and cannot do. I will sink this gosh darn boat." Slowly I began collecting my things, until to my horrifying realization I noticed my umbrella was missing. My mind went into instant panic mode. "Oh my God," I cried, grabbing my face. "Where is my umbrella?"

"Everyone off the bus," hollered the bus assistant. "Everyone file down to the dock and take a spot near the ramp."

Weary passengers brushed past my large rump as I crawled in and around my seat. The mother with the annoying baby bumped into my head as I leaned over the aisle. I bolted upright and accidentally whacked her baby across its face with the side of my arm. This sent the infant into another wild fit.

"Excuse you, Sister!" fussed the mother pulling her baby closer to her chest. By this point, I was done being a nice old nun.

"Oh my!" I cried in response pretending to be sympathetic and sorry. I patted the teary-eyed creature and rubbed the mother's arm. "I apologize for hitting the poor dear. God bless you and your cushy cry sack." The mother, mortified by my comment, hurried off the bus. I smirked then turned back to the hunt for my precious umbrella.

I looked like a chicken that had lost its head. Around and around I scrambled, circling the spot. I looked high and low for any sign of my umbrella. "Where is my D. Thomas?" I pleaded to a near empty bus. "Where is my umbrella?" I shook my gown, looked at the cargo hatch above, and then under my seat. Nothing at all. "Think, Mary," I said to myself, "where could you have put it? You put it on your lap. You fell asleep..."

A quick-footed gentleman rushed down the aisle. A penny fell from his pocket onto the floor. I watched it delicately roll downhill to the front end of the bus. I looked back under the seats. "Of course! It must have rolled." I cried out in happy alarm when I saw it. An umbrella rested at the far end of the bus. "Oh, thank God," I exclaimed dashing to the front. My heart fluttered for a moment as my umbrella came into sight...but it was not meant to be. My hope dropped when I saw it. The umbrella was not mine. I raised it into the air. No gold cap, no writing on its base. It was not D. Thomas. Looking out the window, I saw the yellow flash of my umbrella's golden tip twinkle in the sunlight. One of the passengers must have taken it by mistake. I looked again and saw a woman in a black dress fumbling through the crowd with my umbrella tucked under her arm. She shifted her luggage and motioned to a red convertible down the street. It slowly pulled up beside her. A young girl with big sunglasses sat in the driver's seat. I had to act fast or I might never see my umbrella again.

In a mad panic, I jumped off of the bus and onto the pavement. I waved the other umbrella in the air and called out as I pushed through the crowd. "Stop! Wait! You have my umbrella!" But it was too late. The woman in the black dress entered the convertible and sped off down the road. I stood there dumbfounded as another loud roar from the ferry echoed over the dying crowd. The engine began to rev and in moments the ferry was heading across the river without me. My mouth opened in shock. My luggage had left for New Orleans and I was still standing on the riverbank. A pit formed in my stomach and a terrible feeling of anger and abandonment set in. I kicked a nearby rock, cursing at the sky, "God damn it!"

The crowd around me stopped, grew quiet, and turned curious eyes to the poor stranded nun before them. I quickly made the sign of the cross with my hands then darted off down the street after my umbrella.