Saint Bad Boy Read Online Free PDF Page B

sensed happiness in her for the first time in a long time, as she couldn’t stop talking about Hank, who was the only single deacon in our parish.
    “Did I tell you Hank has ten years of frozen meat stocked in his commercial grade freezer down in his basement?” she told me, with morbid excitement.
    “Yeah, you told me already,” I said, as I squinted at the morning glare. “Why do you keep bringing that up?”
    “Hank thinks the end of the world will come during our lifetime. I love that he is prepared. He sent me a post on my Facebook about how if we reelect the president, the mark of the beast will be fulfilled and the end times will begin.”
    On one hand, I was happy mother was finally getting out of the house, on the other, I was afraid that the first man to have influence over her since my late father was in desperate need of some counseling, and of the serious kind, you know the type of help that could be found outside a church group, which might require medication.
    “Mother, we are Catholics, not end-timers,” I reprimanded. “The Book of Revelation is mainly symbolic. Remember what Father Mike said, John was under heavy duress when he wrote it.”
    Mother sat back in her chair while grabbing her coffee. She took a small sip from her cup. Her hand had a slight tremble to it. “You’re right, Jessie. Why should I question anyone who has fully given herself to the Lord,” she said, as she reached over for my hand on the table. “I am so proud of you.”
    “Thanks mom, I’ve given up a lot so I can understand the word of God clearly.”
    “You look so beautiful in your habit,” she said.
    “Really? I thought it made me look a little older than I am.”
    “How is the convent treating you?”
    “I won’t lie, it’s been kinda tough. I’m only twenty and its very hard seeing everyone my age on TV having a blast. I don’t regret my decision, it’s just rough, you know?”
    Mother leaned over the table and gripped my hand tighter this time. “I know you feel this is what your father wanted from you. But you must ask yourself if this is what you really want?”
    I looked into my mother’s eyes, or at least her sunglasses, where a young girl’s face, with indecisive green eyes, reflected off the dark plastic lenses. I feigned confidence when I said, “Of course this is what I wanted.”
    Mother didn’t smile. Instead, she placed her sunglasses on the table and gave me a pair of lonely eyes. I had the feeling she wanted to have me around again, but didn’t quite know how to ask me.
    “I’m leaving Friday,” I said.
    “You are? But you said you would lead our prayer group Saturday after lunch at Don Miguel’s.”
    “I know mother, but I need to get out of the convent. I’ve decided to join Sister Janice and help out in Zaire for a month or so. I was surprised she invited me to help with our mission, especially since I’m new and all.”
    “Zaire? Is that out in New Mexico?”
    “Africa.”
    Mother almost did a spit-take after committing to a large sip of her coffee. “Africa? That place is dangerous, please change your mind.”
    “Africa is a large place, Zaire is one of the good countries. The church has had an established presence outside Kinshasa for many years now and they want me to come with the sisters to teach the children about U.S. Culture.”
    Mother leaned back in her chair, pursing her lips. “You couldn’t pick the inner city or something; you know, somewhere just as dangerous but a little bit closer?”
    “Mom, please stop saying it’s dangerous. It’s really beautiful from what I hear.”
    She stood up from her chair and came over to me and stretched out her stubby little arms. “Come here.”
    I stood up and quickly embraced her.
    “I’m sorry for being distant these past few years,” she said softly into my ear. “I was devastated over your father.”
    I rested my head on mother’s left shoulder and felt my eyes beginning to well up. This was the most