Mother Nature: The Journals of Eleanor O'Kell Read Online Free PDF

with enough pills to keep the edge off for years. Throw them away, I tell her. “The doctor says I can’t live without them,” she says. What else does this doctor say? I ask. “He doesn’t really say anything,” Becca says. “He just sits there until I have something to say.” And what do you say? I ask. “Do we have to keep talking?” Becca says. I pinch Becca on the arm. Did that hurt? I ask her. “What?” she says.
     
December 4, 1960
    I’m worried about Will. He writes his crazy stories all day and all night right here in The Big House, like words are the only things that matter. He’s telling me things about Tom, too, that Tom is selling all of our patents without telling anybody, that Tom has some master plan. Will is talking a mile a minute, like he’s gone haywire.
     
February 20, 1961
    Becca seems better. She says her doctor is giving her something “milder,” something that makes her feel more like herself. And how does that feel? I ask. “I don’t know yet,” Becca says. What do you do with your day? I ask her. “Quiz shows,” she answers.
     
May 23, 1961
    Tom is building a bomb shelter beneath The Big House and the whole front lawn is dug up like he’s looking for a body. There are trucks and cranes everywhere as if we are making ready for war, which I suppose we are. Tom says we will all be quite comfortable down there when the end comes. He says the wine cellar will be the very best in all of Southampton. I’m not sure if he’s kidding or not.
     
June 25, 1961
    “It’s not his,” Diana tells me. What do you mean? I say. “I mean Luigi’s not the father,” Diana says and she starts to cry. “He says he loves me,” she says, “but I catch him with things, smells and scraps of paper with phone numbers and first names. He cheated on me so much I had to cheat back.” Who is the father? I ask. “Does it matter?” Diana says.
     
August 21, 1961
    Tom wasn’t kidding—there is a wine cellar in our bomb shelter. He’s built something that’s more like a luxury ocean liner than a place to hide from nuclear war. All the passageways are lit by a generator, and each one of us has our own room. Behind a locked metal door off the wine cellar he has built some kind of command room in case there is a war and he needs to talk to the President. In the event of a nuclear disaster we will have wine, women, and telephone service.
     
August 31, 1961
    Mother Superior asks me to indoctrinate all the girls when they first come to the Convent, to be what she calls “the eyes and ears of the Order.” I say yes so long as Nancy can help me.
     
October 2, 1961
    Our offering on Wall Street is oversubscribed again, and Mother Superior is beside herself with joy. I get a call from our investment banker, Charles Evans, saying he wants to celebrate with me. “How about a date, Sister?” he says. He sounds just like Bucky Harwell.
     
November 20, 1961
    Mother Superior officially puts me in charge of the Order’s recruitment, training, and indoctrination. To me it’s all a matter of marketing and organization, of dollars spent in the right places. The Order has a story to tell, I tell Mother Superior, and we have to make sure the right girls can hear it. I tell her our best asset is our Sisters spread all over the world, that each one of our nuns must take responsibility for the survival of the Order. Mother Superior looks so happy she could bust.
     
January 9, 1962
    Charles Evans takes me to “21” and I’ve never seen a grown man get so drunk in daylight. They know him here, and by the end of lunch his drinks are 99 percent water, and his conversation is 100 percent lewd. “Did you ever do it, Sister?” he leers at me. I ask him why he needs to know. “I like to think about it,” he says, “when I’m doing it with my wife.” You like to think about me ? I ask. “I mean, you’re a beautiful woman, Sister,” he says. “I can see that.” I say we best be going. “Don’t you ever