"Mm, your hair feels like fur."
"Your fingers feel nice in it, too, Karl. Push it back behind my ears again. I love that."
Comfortable. The whole evening had been comfortable. Karl was comfortable, the music comfortable, even Karl's battered green Volkswagen was comfortable. Joanne wanted to purr like a pampered kitten.
"You must have sensitive ears," whispered Karl, leaning his head close to hers and blowing softly. "How does that feel?"
She squirmed at the tingling sensation, which made her feel both exhilarated and apprehensive.
"What's the matter? Relax. I won't do anything you don't want me to."
"I think it's time to go back. I'll get in trouble if I'm late. I loved the concert, Karl. Brubeck is exciting. The records are beautiful but seeing him in person is so much better. He has charisma. I wish he had played longer.
"So you do like jazz, then?"
"I like that kind. I always thought jazz was loud and brassy. This is soothing, but makes you think."
"That proves you're intelligent. I knew it the first time I saw you. It shows in your eyes. It's not easy to find an intelligent girl."
He turned on the ignition. A few wispy snowflakes fell, melting on the windshield, and he switched on the wipers. Joanne felt lulled by their swish. She had anticipated the change in the weather, sensing it with the vague restlessness it always stirred in her. She moved a little toward the door and sat straight She had never met a boy she considered really intelligent. Karl obviously thought he was, and he was probably right. On the way to the concert he had discussed the music they'd be hearing analytically, almost mathematically. Joanne never thought mathematically. She asked herself not "How much?" or even How?" but "Why?" and "How do we know?" Who had decided for instance, that a certain sound would mean a certain thing, and why that particular sound?
The question she pondered most was "Why do I exist? Why does anything exist?" The answers she had learned by rote from the Baltimore Catechism, but what if no one had ever told her anything? What would she believe then? She was afraid to think further, afraid she wouldn't believe. The agnostic's prayer ran through her mind, "Oh God, if there is a God, save my soul,if I have a soul." Was it wrong to live as though there were a God, following the rules, just to be safe? If death was the end, what would she have lost?
"Are you asleep?" asked Karl.
"No, just daydreaming. What time is it?"
"Just eleven thirty. We'll be back in ten minutes."
"Are the roads getting slippery?"
"No, it's melting when it hits the pavement. Don't worry, I'll get you back in one piece."
"I'm not worried, Karl.'
In front of the dorm, he smoothed her hair back and kissed her lightly. "I'll see you in Theology," he said.
She thanked him and hurried to sign in.
"You're back early" Carol greeted her. "Couldn't you think of anything to do for fifteen minutes? I could have."
"Well, Josie, did he shake your hand?" asked Denise.
Sue looked up from the pile of sweaters she was sorting on her bed. "How was the concert?"
"Great! Even better than the records. Are you packing already?"
"Just getting ready to pack."
"She's going to see Mike; she's going to see Mike," sang Sharon.
Joanne dropped her coat on the bed and walked over to Sue. "I'll bet he gives you a ring for Christmas," she said softly.
"Don't be silly," said Sue, but her eyes shone. "He has three more years of college, then med school. I'll be walking with a cane by the time we're married." She hunched her shoulders and shuffled around the bed.
"At least you know what you want."
Sue curved her eyebrows into question marks and threw her a look that Joanne interpreted as "We'll talk later."
But there was no time before the vacation. Students could leave after their last classes on Wednesday, and they began their exodus at noon.
Mother and Daddy picked her up. "You've lost weight!" said Mother. "You look more sophisticated."
Daddy was quiet, but his eyes twinkled. Joanne knew that he was proud of her and glad to see her. Timmy was upstairs when they got home, and Joanne called to him from the landing. She stood with her hand extended, ready to pat him on the head, but when he came down she had to raise her hand and look up. He had grown taller than she.
For the first time, Joanne felt like a guest in her own home. After dinner, Mother handed her a stack of mail, Christmas cards from her friends, including one from Michelle. Joanne exclaimed over it. She didn't think she'd be allowed to write, but the inside of the card was filled with small script. Michelle was busy and happy, it seemed, as enthusiastic about her new life as if she were on a world tour.
"Oh, yes, and her mother called. They're going to visit her the Sunday after Christmas and she wants to know if you'd like to go."
"Oh, yes, of course. Unless you have something planned for us."
"No, our only plans this year are Midnight Mass with Aunt Elaine at Holy Angels."
Holy Angels was larger and more elaborate than St. Theresa's; its stone walls, inside and out, echoed the sweet treble of the boys' choir. The lateness of the hour enhanced the richness of the liturgy, and the cold air afterwards added gusto to the "Merry Christmas's." After a breakfast at Aunt Elaine's, Joanne went home glowing with peace, good will, and hot mulled cider. She was happy that both Tim and Rick were pleased with the ski sweaters she had chosen for them. She had money for new clothes from Mother and Daddy. Visiting home was so different from living there. She liked it.
Visiting Michelle that weekend, Joanne poured out her questions when her parents left to get some sodas.
"What's it like? Do you work hard? What do you do all day? Do you really keep silence? I still can't imagine you being quiet."
"Whoa!" laughed Michelle. "You're drowning me. The silence isn't so bad. We talk at meals, except for breakfast. We have recreation every evening, which means we can talk and take walks. We keep silence when we're working or studying, but if we have to we can say something. It doesn't take long to get used to it."
"What kind of work do you do?"
"Well, we get up at five twenty. We say prayers aloud while we're getting dressed, but we can't talk to anyone then, or even look at them. It's grand silence until after Mass. We have prayers and meditations first, then Mass, then pantry charges and breakfast."
"What's a pantry charge?"
"A charge is a chore. I pour milk into pitchers and take them to the table. After breakfast, I put the milk away and wash the pitchers. There are some short prayers again, and then I dust the steps. At nine o'clock, classes start."
"What do you study?"
"Regular college classes. English, education, psychology. Then there's theology and Gregorian Chant. We postulants have Spiritual Life with Sister Ignatius. She teaches the rules and customs of the community."
"Do you get bored?"
"Oh, never. No time for that. We serve the meals, pray, sew. After supper there's an hour for recreation, then an hour for study. By the time we offer the silence at nine o'clock, we're ready to fall into bed."
"Well you look as though it agrees with you. Maybe I'll join you next year."
"Do you mean that?"
"I think so."
"That's great! You'll be a postulant and I'll be a novice. Just think, I won't even be Michelle any more. I'll have a new name, the habit, and hardly any hair."
"Oh, Shelley, will they cut off all those curls?"
"Why not? I won't need them under the veil."
Joanne touched her own long hair. Suddenly she remembered Karl's fingers running through it.