“I told you...it’s complicated.”

“So he did hit you.”

“Complicated.”

“He was married? When women are with married guys and they don’t want to admit he’s married, they say it’s complicated. I saw that on TV.”

“My life is not a TV show,” Elle said. “My life is—”

“Complicated. Got it.”

“I’m not trying to be mean or grumpy or bitchy,” Elle said. “I don’t want to talk about why I’m here, and I shouldn’t have to.”

“Okay, you’re right. I get it.”

“You don’t, but that’s okay. Trust me. I’m doing you a favor. You seem like you really enjoy being a nun. I don’t want to say or do anything to make you have second thoughts about the Catholic Church.”

“Oh, I have lots of second thoughts about the Catholic Church. Third and fourth thoughts even. My sister’s priest told her to stay with her husband because divorce is a sin. He suggested counseling. If she left him, she’d probably still be alive. Why do we ask marriage advice from men not allowed to get married? That’s my second thought about the Catholic Church.”

“A good second thought.”

“Third thought,” Kyrie said, holding up three fingers. “Why can’t women be priests? Doesn’t it say there is no man nor woman in Christ Jesus?”

“Yes. The book of Galatians 3:28,” Elle said.

“If that’s true, then there’s no reason women can’t be priests.”

“There is a reason. The Catholic Church hates women.”

“Hate is a strong word, Elle.”

“Did you know that if a Catholic priest is caught molesting a child, he’s put into therapy and moved to another parish. Meanwhile, if a woman has an abortion she’s—”

“Excommunicated.”

“Not just excommunicated. Latea sententiae—automatically excommunicated,” Elle said. “The act itself causes the excommunication. Your brother-in-law who beat your sister to death wouldn’t even get excommunicated for what he did to her. There’s a nice fourth and fifth thought about the Catholic Church for you.”

“I know you said something really profound and worth thinking about, but all I heard was you speaking Latin there for a second and it was really awesome.”

“Oh my God, you’re certifiable.”

“I’m sorry. Sort of. But you’re right, lots of thoughts,” Kyrie agreed. She folded her arms over her stomach.

“And here you are, one of them. A nun. Despite all your second, third and fourth thoughts, you still joined the ranks.”

“You know, American nuns drive the pope crazy. We’re all liberal and revolutionary, and we hold property in common and that makes everyone think we’re communists. Which most of us are. At least socialists. God forbid everybody gets enough food and water and nobody gets to be a billionaire until everyone gets dinner every single day, right?”

“Pissing off the pope is a good reason to be a nun. Maybe the only good reason.”

“There are other good reasons.”

“There are?” Elle asked. “What are they?”

“Free fancy outfits,” Kyrie said. “Three square meals a day. A girl who knows Latin to do your laundry for you.”

“I only know a tiny bit of Latin. And don’t get used to the laundry servicing,” Elle said. “Once I leave here, one of you lovely ladies will take over laundry duty again. Maybe even you.”

“Leave? Why would you leave?” Kyrie sounded horrified by the very idea.

“I can’t stay here forever.”

“You could if you joined.”

“I’m not joining a religious order. Especially not this one.”

“Why not?”

“No men allowed.”

“You like men?”

“Love men. They’re my favorite people when they’re behaving.”

“I like women,” Kyrie said.

“Then you’ve come to the right place. Women galore. Lucky you.” Elle ironed a crease into the napkin, folded it and ironed it again.

“When are you planning on leaving here?” Kyrie asked.

“I don’t know. As soon as I can figure out what do to with my life.”

“Any ideas?”

“Not yet. I don’t have a lot of job skills. Working in a laundry for the rest of my life doesn’t hold much appeal.”

“I don’t blame you. Did you go to college?”

“NYU.”

“Did you graduate?”

“I did. English degree. See what I mean about no job skills?”

Kyrie laughed. “You can’t do anything else?”

“I give good blow jobs. I’ll leave the convent and become a prostitute.”

“I bet I’d suck at blowing. It seems hard.”

Elle looked up and glared at Kyrie.

“Did you make a dick joke?” Elle asked.

“I did!” Kyrie applauded herself. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever done that before. How many points do I get?”

“One point.”

“Only one? Hmm...that means I have three points. How many points would it take for you to tell me why you’re here?”

Elle sighed heavily. “I don’t know. Lots of them.”

“How about twenty-five? That’s how you win a match in volleyball. I played volleyball. I’m crazy good at volleyball.”