Chapter 5

"Trust the boy"

Was the thought I repeated over and over again, like a rhythm that set the pace of my steps, like a mantra to soothe me and make me stop thinking.

Still, I could not bring myself to leave the house immediately, so at first I went into the cellar and put the boy's clothes into the dryer - and then I braced myself and headed towards the shopping street.

But when I stepped out of the claustral area, other thoughts absorbed me. I had no time to drive to the bigger towns in the hinterland, where I could have bought clothes and shoes anonymously. Our city was small, and I, as one of the canonesses, was quite well known - especially as I had lived here with short breaks since I had been ten years old and because I had always been dedicated to the parish. There would not be a possibility to simply walk into a shop, buy clothes for a boy with the size of a seven year old, and go out unquestioned again.

The thin figure of the boy and the awaited inquiring faces of the vendors whirled around in my mind. People were used to me being lost in thoughts, and greeted me cheery as they walked by, but other then else they did not even get back a scatterbrained, but friendly reply (everybody was used to me walking deep in thought, but normally I at last reacted when somebody spoke to me). And I would even have walked over one of our parsons, had he not called my name when I walked on.

"Ms. Julia, what is wrong with you?"

I winced at the sudden call that broke into my thoughts.

"Oh, Pastor Mainbergk!" I frantically thought about what to tell him. It had been a long way for me to come to the recognition that truth is much better than lies, especially in important situations. But still I knew that truth was not always a possible way.

"How are you?"

I greeted him while we shook hands, and as this is a real question in my country, his response was: "The question should better be how you are, Julia. You look totally unnerved."

I thought too much about swearing for my position today. And as I could not invent a lie so fast, I simply said: "Do not ask me. I really do feel unnerved. But I have no time to tell you, for I am in a hurry. I promise I will come to you and tell you everything when I have returned to earth. Acceptable proposal?"

"It has to be, then. But promise me you will try not to worry too much and call for help if you need it" he replied frowning. And already walking, looking back over my shoulder, waving goodbye at him, I called: "I do, pastor!"

Of course the sales woman in the fashion shop could have simply sold me what I wanted - and could have started gossiping the moment I left. But she was too curious to take my strange behaviour - a "nun" buying children' clothes - without satisfying her curiosity.

"Excuse me, Julia, if I am inquisitive. But for whom are you buying these clothes? Isn't your nephew long grown up? And surely you would have told me if you were great-aunt of a school boy?"

Sometimes it was fun to live among people you knew from school-days on, but sometimes it was . . . - No, enough swearing for today.

"Janine, think of it, my cousin, who did not call on me for so long, has announced that she wants to visit me and bring along her little boy. Well, she sounded as if she was thinking about a place where she could leave the boy a few days, while she is on business, and I want to show her that though I am a canoness, I still am prepared for the needs of a boy. And the convent area is a great playground for a boy - and a place where one can get pretty dirty, especially now that we have the new pond . . ." I let phase out my words. Such a great lie, and so many traps that lay in it. What had I done?

Now that I had satisfied her curiosity, I was able to take out all the undergarment, the jeans, T-Shirts, sweater, coat, socks and shoes.

Luckily it all fitted into my backpack, so hopefully there would be no need for further explanation on the street.

On my way home I was more attentive to the people around me, greeting them cheerily or waving to those who were too far away to enter conversation. Only of the other one of my pastors did I get rid of by simply waving at him and saying without stopping to greet him: "No time, Pastor Schweick, I am in a hurry! Have a nice day!"

He only laughed and shouted "You too, and don't bustle so much!" He had already been in the parish when we had moved here, and had since not changed his unhurried jovial outspokenness.

When I came into the washkitchen, the clothes were gone.

Calming myself I wondered about the resourcefulness of the boy, who had perhaps been helpful by taking his clothes out himself.

But when I came into my flat I immediately saw that my keys were missing. The rooms were all empty, and the boy was gone.

Empty in mind and soul I sat down on the guests bed, where at least my mother's clothes lay neatly folded.

How could I have trusted him? Though my heart had spoken good about the boy, my mind had known before that it had been a mistake.