Page 13 of For I Have Sinned

I need to meet with my parents at the convent in an hour, and I’m dreading it. While sitting at home, doing nothing, I never found the right words to say to them.

If anything, I pushed the thought of them and the church to the back of my mind because I didn’t want to deal with it. I was already upset about losing my job, and I didn’t want to make myself even more upset by the thought of making my parents angry.

But today is the day I have to put on my big girl pants and stand up for myself. I can’t keep believing the guilt trip my mother always gives me. It’s the same thing every single time, and I fall for it every single time.

Not this time.

I climb out of bed to head to the bathroom to plug in my curling iron. Might as well make myself look decent to make my mother proud, even if it is only for a second, before I piss them off.

Maybe if I look like the perfect church-going daughter, she won’t be as mad when I break the news. I laugh at the thought while I wrap the first strand around the iron. She will be mad regardless of how I look.

When I’m finally done with my hair, I put on a light blue sundress, and then apply my makeup. I look at myself in the mirror and curl my lips in disgust because I do appear as the perfect daughter my mother always wanted.

Clenching my jaw, I turn around, make my way into the kitchen, and grab my purse off the counter. Inhaling a deep breath, I head for the door, mentally telling myself that everything will be okay.

My mother is waiting in the lobby when I arrive, and my father is nowhere to be seen. I was hoping they’d be waiting for me outside, but at least they haven’t gone all the way to the chapel yet. My mother’s attention finds me as I approach, and a smile grows on her face.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful!” The compliment is genuine, but then again, it always is when I am living up to the standards they set for me.

“Thanks,” I respond with a stiff smile. “I was wondering if we could talk?”

By the time I’m done speaking, she is fidgeting inside her purse and pulling out a tube of her favorite red lipstick. “About what?”

“About what I wanted to talk over lunch with you,” I say, attempting to hide my annoyance. “Where is Dad?”

“Oh, he is off talking to Father Keaton,” she answers, rolling her lips together to spread the color.

I’m not waiting for him to come back, because it might be too late then. “I’m not going to church.”

Her hand goes still as she is about to put her lipstick back in her purse. “But you are at church.”

“No, I know, but… I’m not staying.”

She finally drops the tube into her bag and then gives me her full attention. I try not to shrink under her disappointed glare.

“I can’t be the daughter you want me to be, and I’m sorry about that. Going to church every Sunday isn’t what I want to do with my life. I don’t even believe⁠—”

“Stop it right there, young lady!” The sharpness in her tone makes my mouth close tightly and my spine straighten. “I will not have you saying that nonsense in the home of our Lord.”

“This”—I gesture to the church—“isn’t the life I want to live.”

“Let me guess, you’d rather live a life of sinning and getting drunk with your delinquent friends all the time?” She takes a step forward. Her hand lifts to squeeze my cheeks, and she inspects my eyes. “I mean, look at you. You are hungover right now.”

“God forbid I am an adult and want to go out on a Saturday night!” I shove her hand away as she stares at me in horror. “And my friends are not delinquents.”

Her face turns red as a tomato. “I have had it with you, Celine Faith! Which is why I don’t regret doing this one bit.”

My brows dip in confusion at her words, but before I can ask what she means by regretting whatever it is she is doing, I hear my dad’s harsh voice. “Suzanne.”

She turns to look at my dad, who is standing with Father Keaton. “Richard, she is out of control.”

“I did nothing wrong!” I raise my voice in defense, distancing myself from her.

“Celine,” Father Keaton’s soft voice grabs my attention. When I slide my eyes to him, his face is holding a calm expression. “Will you walk with me?”

I’m so angry right now that I want to tell him no and leave them all, but the calmness on his face has me taking a step in his direction. He smiles, gesturing for me to follow him down the hall.

I walk beside him and glance over my shoulder at my parents. They both stand there, watching me for a moment with aggravation plastered on both of their faces. One more second goes by before they turn and walk out of the church.