Authors: Felicia Donovan
One Sunday morning, while Giselle was busy cleaning the leftovers from one of their Saturday night gatherings, I begged Jean to take me for a bike ride. We rode down the main road towards the big hill when Jean abruptly stopped and said, “Let’s turn back now.”
“But Jean…”
“It’s a lot steeper than it looks, Etoile.”
“But you do it, Jean.”
“I have ten speeds on my bike, Etoile. I can downshift and use my handbrakes.”
“But I have brakes, too, Jean. Please! We can go very slow and if it is too steep, we can dismount and walk down. Please, Jean!”
“I don’t know…”
“Come on, Jean, last one down is a rotten egg!” I said racing past her.
“Etoile!” I heard her yell, but I was already ahead of her. The trees seemed to fly past me. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time as things blurred past. I heard Jean call my name and soon she was behind me.
“Slow down, Etoile,” she called, but the ground became steeper and steeper. My feet began to slip off the pedals.
“Slow down! Use your brakes!” Jean called again, but I could not get my feet secured on the pedals to apply the brakes. The trees became a blur as I suddenly felt the front wheel hit something and lurch to the side. My whole body seemed to shift to the right as one foot hit the ground momentarily and the bike began to spin out from underneath me. I tried desperately to get my feet down, but I was going much too fast and I went one way hitting the ground hard with my knee, while the bike went another. I lay there dazed for several seconds, only aware of a flame of pain that shot through my right knee like a hot poker was being held against it. I closed my eyes against the pain and clutched at it.
Jean skidded her bike out on the back wheels sending a cloud of dust my way. I covered my eyes against it as she ran towards me.
“Etoile, Etoile!” she said kneeling down beside me. “Are you alright?”
“
Je suis si désolé. Je ne pourrais pas m'arrêter.
”
“In English!” Jean said, but I did not hear her until she took me by the shoulder and gave me a shake. “
En Anglais
, please!”
I stopped and nodded and caught my breath. “I am so sorry, Jean. I could not stop.”
Jean very gently touched my knee, which was bleeding and covered in dirt. “Can you bend it at all?” she asked.
I slowly brought my knee up. It was painful, but I could bend it.
“Good. That’s a very good sign.”
I looked back at my bicycle with its twisted handlebars.
“Don’t worry about the bike, Etoile,” Jean said. “We can always repair it,” but I was not so sure it could be repaired.
Jean placed her hands under my arms and lifted me up. I tried to stand and bare weight on the knee, but it gave way.
“It’s swelling,” Jean said. “We need to get you home and get ice on it as soon as possible.”
“I think I can walk,” I said, but as I tried to take a step, the knee gave out.
Jean looked around and scratched her head. “We need to get you back home.”
“But how, Jean?”
“I’ll push you on my bike,” she said.
“But the hill,” I said. “You cannot push me all the way back up the hill?”
Jean looked at the steep hill.
“I see your point.” She glanced up and down and said, “Etoile, have you ever had a piggy-back ride?”
Jean hid our bikes in the trees and kneeled all the way down on one knee while I climbed aboard her shoulders. Jean was very careful not to touch my right knee as she very slowly stood up. I could not believe how high up I was.
“Are you okay up there?” she asked.
“I am taller than you, Jean.”
“How’s the pain?”
I was too busy looking at everything from so high up to think about it.
“It is okay.”
“Then we’re off.”
If Jean was bothered at all carrying my weight, she did not say so, though I could see drops of sweat forming at the back of her neck as we went up the hill. Once we reached the crest, Jean quickened her pace.
“How are you doing?” she called.
“I am fine, Jean. How are you?”
Jean laughed and patted my foot. “You gave me quite a scare, you know.”
“I am sorry.”
“It’s okay, Etoile. As long as you’re alright, it’s okay, though I doubt Giselle will think so.”
Giselle was crouched down weeding a patch of iris when she glanced over and saw us coming up the road. At first, she smiled and waved, then she must have spotted my knee, because she suddenly threw down her trowel and came running towards us at full speed.
“
Oh mon Dieu
! What happened?”
“She slipped a little on the hill.”
“The hill!” Giselle said looking up at me. “What in heaven’s name were you doing on the hill?”
“I was with Jean,” I answered.
Jean carried me all the way into the house and up into my bed.
“Call Eppy,” Giselle said. “See if she can come over right away.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Giselle,” Jean began. “It’s just bruised.”
“Call Eppy, I said!” Giselle demanded.
“But Giselle…”
Giselle spun around. “Fine, if you will not call her, then I will,” she said as she stormed out of the room. Jean looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“Are we in trouble?” I asked.
“Not you, me.”
“But you did not do anything wrong, Jean.”
***
Eppy arrived an hour later.
“Well, well, where’s the little Evil Kneivel?” she asked as she came in carrying a wide black bag. “You didn’t hurt the hill, did you?” she asked as she set the bag down beside me and opened it up.
Giselle and Jean stood behind her. Jean went to touch Giselle’s arm, but Giselle pulled away.
“I do not think so, Eppy.”
“Good,” Eppy laughed. She very carefully lifted my knee and rotated it around.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
“No, just on top where it is scraped.”
“How about that?” she asked bending it towards my chest.
“No.”
She took out a bandage and dabbed at the surface. “You have a little gravel in there,” she said. “I’m going to pull it out with these tweezers so it doesn’t get infected.”
“Oh, Eppy,” Giselle said coming forward, “won’t it just work its way out on its own? Is that absolutely necessary?”
Eppy threw back her head and laughed. “Oh no! Here we go again, Etoile. You had better take Giselle’s hand and squeeze it very tightly.”
Giselle sat on the edge of the bed and I took her hand. She looked very pale. Jean came down and sat on the other edge and squeezed my other hand. A few times, it stung quite a bit as Eppy pulled several pieces of gravel and dirt out and I was glad to be holding their hands, but I thought Giselle was going to be sick at one point. She shut her eyes and shook her head.
“Hang in there, Giselle,” Eppy said. “Etoile is being very brave and we’re almost done.”
Finally, Eppy laid a towel beneath my knee and poured a rinse over it. That stung more than anything and I could not help but squeeze their hands very tightly while I squirmed, though I tried to squeeze harder on Jean than Giselle.
“Sorry, Tootsie,” Eppy said. “That’s the worst part. We’re almost done. I’ll just wrap it up now and it will have to be changed each day for a few days. She’ll be fine. Nothing is broken, just bruised and scraped and some swelling which will go down after a few days.”
Giselle wiped her hand across the back of her neck.
“Are you okay?” Jean asked touching her arm.
“Excuse me a minute,” she said as she went to the bathroom.
“Poor Giselle,” Eppy said. “She wouldn’t make a very good nurse, now would she?” she asked smiling.
“But she makes a good mother,” I said.
***
That night, Giselle brought me dinner in bed on a tray with a small vase of flowers and a bowl of creamy potato soup with sausage, bacon, kale and onions in it. Then she brought me an extra-large bowl of chocolate chip ice cream for dessert.
I was so tired from all that had happened that soon after I finished the last spoonful of ice cream, I drifted off to sleep.
I was awakened some time later by raised voices coming from down the hallway.
***
“She was not ready for the hill, Jean,” I heard Giselle say. “What were you thinking?”
“She was doing fine up until then.”
“You should have known better.”
“Giselle…”
“Honestly, Jean, she could have been killed.”
“Giselle…”
“I promised her that she would not get hurt when she got here, Jean. I promised her that.”
“You should have promised her that no one would hurt her. There’s a big difference.”
“Not to a child.”
“Of course to a child, Giselle. Falling off a bike and bruising a knee is part of life. She’ll recover from this and she’ll be fine.”
“I cannot bear for her to be hurt with all she went through,” Giselle said and then I heard her cry softly.
“Come here,” Jean said.
Giselle’s cries quickly became muffled.
“I don’t ever want her to get hurt,” Giselle whispered.
“I know,” Jean said. “I know.”
***
The next morning, Jean came into my room before going to work.
“Good morning, Etoile,” she said smiling. I put my arms out to her and she came over and gave me a hug.
“Thank you for taking care of me yesterday, Jean,” I said. Jean drew back and looked at me.
“You’re very welcome, Etoile.”
“I am sorry if I got you in trouble with Giselle.”
“You didn’t…” Jean began to say, but she cocked her head to the side and studied me for a second. “We worked it all out last night.”
Planting a kiss on the top of my head, she said, “Do you think you can manage the stairs this morning?”
“Oh yes.”
I started to get up, and then had an idea.
“Jean?”
“Yes?”
“Can you give me one more piggy-back ride? Just down the stairs?”
Jean laughed and crouched down as I hopped aboard her back.
***
Giselle was standing in the kitchen cooking breakfast in a very pretty off-white bathrobe with cranberry flowers laced through it when we came down the stairs. She smiled.
“Well, look at you two. Jean will not be able to carry you around forever, you know,” she said as I climbed off of Jean’s back and slid into the kitchen chair.
“And how is your knee this morning?”
I tested it. It was sore and swollen and very bruised. “It is getting better,” I said.
“Good. We will take it slow anyway. First we will eat breakfast…”
“I know,” I said interrupting her, “The French way.”
She laughed. “
Oui.
You have learned well.”
Jean touched Giselle on the sleeve. “I need to get in early for a faculty meeting.”
Turning to me, Jean said, “Etoile, be extra careful with that knee today,” as she ruffled the top of my head.
Giselle reached for Jean’s sleeve and drew her close. “Jean,” she said quietly, “I am sorry.” She leaned forward and kissed Jean on the mouth.
***
Giselle and I were in the kitchen. She turned to get a glass for me and stopped. She reached into her apron pocket and withdrew a letter.
“I almost forgot,” she said, “This is from Anais.”
I grabbed the letter and tore it open.
“Dear Etoile,”
How are you? Before I forget to say this, please thank Giselle and her friend for sending the money. It has come in quite handy now that I am no longer with the Sisters of Mercy.
It is a long story and has much to do with Aimee Marceau. You do remember me telling you when I came and visited that Aimee would not leave without a bang? Well, she certainly did and it has caused us both to be expelled from the Sisters of Mercy.
The girls who are very close to having their babies are taken during the day to a special class where the nuns instruct us on what to expect. Of course, it was our luck to have Sister Frances for this class. She derived much pleasure in telling us we would experience great pain and that we should welcome that because God wanted us to learn from our sins by suffering. She also made the point that no Sister would ever have to suffer that kind of pain because they were ‘pure of carnal knowledge.’ I should probably not write that, but if you have any questions about it, ask your cousin. Anyway, some of the girls were quite frightened to the point of being sick and this made Aimee very, very angry and she vowed to get revenge. Aimee said we already sinned enough to be damned, so why not go all the way?