Curtain/ Tara's Ugly Morning

The dark lighting backstage of Spice Sweet Spice casts a long eerie muted glow on the exposed nun. Tara Mathers is totally nude behind a large, dusty frayed curtain, clutching the fabric with a white-knuckled grip. Her hazel eyes sneak a peek out though the vertical gap. The smokey haze of the club mingles with the stench of stale beer, old carpeting, and the lingering cigars, wrapping around her like a cloak.

The percussion and bass from Donna Summer's Bad Girls reverberates through the floorboards, each thump matching Tara's pulse. She tries to tap her foot in time with the beat, but the six-inch open-toed strappy' heels feel alien, awkward, uncomfortable, and far too high. One misstep, and she might fall flat on her face.

Through a crackling speaker, the DJ's voice breaks the overpowering music, "Alright, folks, let's hear some noise! A big Spice, Sweet, Spice welcome! It's Misty, making her nude debut! And don't forget to tip your waitstaff and bar staff!"

Tara's mind registers the unshakable identity. Miss T, she'd said when asked, but though the background noise the DJ had misheard. It didn't matter now.

Her long, brown hair cascades around her shoulders in soft waves, but it's not enough to shield her exposed breasts. She peers out at the patrons knowing they're wondering when the show will start, when the next girl will appear.

She looks down at her exposed perky breasts. Her nipples erect, they have never been so straight and upward. Her gaze goes to down to her visible pubic hair, her hips, and to her long shiny shaved legs. Her skin feels flushed. This moment, this woman standing behind of the curtain, nude for the world. Uncertain, will she cross a line she's never dared get even close to before.

She inhales the thick air deep in her lungs. Her fingers tighten on the curtain making her knuckles even whiter, then slowly, deliberately, loosen.

Months Earlier:

The shrill buzz of Tara's alarm clock shatteres the quiet of her small apartment, dragging her from a dreamless sleep. Squinting at the clock -- 5:42 a.m., behind schedule. Time to get up and presentable for morning prayers at St. Rose. Tara Mathers, a nun, is an Apostolic Sister that lives and works outside the confines of the convent. She must be at morning prayers by 6:15. She works as a social worker at the Maple Tree (Yes that is the real tacky name) Rest Home.

"Ugh, damn it," Tara pulls herself out of bed with a grunt. Her body yearning for the comfort of the sheets, but there is no time. Barefoot tip toe on the cold linoleum floor. She turns on the water for coffee. The calendar on the wall by the stove is open to November 1978.

By the window she she listens to the rush of the Grand River just two blocks away. "Not as loud as usual today," she talks out-loud as if she was speaking directly to the river.

With a flurry of motion, she tugs on a pair of slacks, one hand pulling them up over her hips with the other she wrestles on a shirt. She pours boiling water into a mug filled with Sanka and Coffee Mate. As she is stirring the concoction, a creak from the hallway halts dead in her tracks. Someones coming. She turns and blinks at the silhouette in the kitchen doorway.

Bert, a friend of her roommate Alexa.

Bert (Egbert--his full name, though nobody ever used it) stands there, holding a coffee mug in one hand, his bathrobe tied but hanging loosely around him. It is very apparent to Tara the nun, that Bert had noting on underneath his Gingham terry cloth robe. Tara couldn't help but glance down. It is more awkward for her than him. "Bert?" She says trying not to stare at the obvious, "Good morning?"

"Oh, uh," He has a sheepish grin, oblivious to her discomfort. "Good morning. I was just getting some coffee before I head out. Alexa's still sleeping, so I thought I'd," he stops mid sentence.

"Don't," Tara waving her hand. She doesn't even want to know. "So I guess Alexa is not going to make it for morning prayers at St. Rose today?" As she tugs the waistband of her slacks.

"Not sure," the grin still there. "Just making my coffee," Bert seemed to notice her discomfort, but only smiles wider. "You know, I didn't think nuns wore slacks," as his eyes scan Tara.

Tara's eyes narrow. "Usually, they don't," she tugs a sweater over her shoulders, her mind on the clock. "But when you're late for morning prayers and your wimple is stuck in the back of your car, you make do," as she grabs her keys, patience thinning. "Let Alexa know she is running out of days that she can miss during novitiate," Tara states. (Alexa is a student, or Novice. The time period is called Novitiate.)

"Sure thing, Tara," his gaze lingers on her as though nothing about this morning was out of the ordinary.

Heading for the door, a voice from the hallway. "Is he still here?" of course, it is Alexa. Tara's roommate, sometimes friend and sometimes the bane of her existence.

"Yeah, Alexa, he's still here," Tara responds, sarcasm in her voice.

Alexa's emerges with her usual grin. Her habit already on. She is presentable as a novice, even if her character leaves much to be desired.

"What's up?" Alexa says, looking from Tara to Bert and back again. "Just sayin' good morning?" as she playfully takes a small skip in the air. "Though, I gotta admit, Tara, you're lookin' more, uh, informal than usual."

Tara shoots her a look, "Alexa."

"Oh, come on," Alexa smiling like she was the picture of innocence as she gazes upward batting her eyes. "No one's perfect". She pauses, then leaned in closer, "Besides, I've got Sister Tabby wrapped around my finger." She makes a little gesture with her hand, twisting her index finger in the air. "She may be all about the rules, but I'm the top scholar in my class. The most neat and the most presentable."

Tara, raising an eyebrow, glancing over at Bert her eyes staring at his hips, "Yeah, but neat and presentable doesn't exactly equate to... well, character." She glances back at Alexa, a little more serious now, "You know, Alexa, the nuns at St. Rose are really good judges of character. And they've got you pegged."

Alexa's smile falters slightly, but only for a moment and she giggles. "Well, they don't mind me," she said with a shrug. "Besides, I'm not the worst of the bunch. Not like Tara over here," she gives Tara a teasing look.

Tara's voice dropping a notch, "You think they won't notice? You're gonna have to live in St. Rose when you become a nun, Alexa. And if you keep acting like this, they might make me go back and live there, too. Guilty by association."

Alexa rolling her eyes, "Oh, please. You know you'll be just fine. Beside you are their favorite. Sister Evelyn and Carmella adore you. Why is sister Carmella sooo ugly." As she laughs again at her own jokes.

"I'm serious, Alexa," Tara's voice firm. "A novice nun shouldn't be fooling around with a man... especially not a Jewish one," she again shifts her hazel eyes down at Bert's midsection and state of undress as she spoke.

"Oh, come on, Tara," Alexa laughs. "He's not hurting anyone. Besides, I'm a big girl. I know what I'm doing," Flipping her hair.

Tara mutters under her breath as she grabbed her purse, "I'm not telling you what to do. But if you don't get your act together. Lets move on. Are you coming for prayers today. You have missed once already, and you only get three misses during Novitiate."

"I'm coming, I look more ready than you, just saying," Alexa added with an exhausting sigh. She spanks Bert from behind good and hard with a slap that momentarily drowns out the rush of the Grand River. "Lock up Bert on your way out," as she passes him.

Going down the stairs together the cold Michigan November wind blows Tara's long Brunette hair into her face, and Alexa gives her wimple a head lock. Out in the parking lot sits Tara's faded green 1972 Buick Skyhawk like a rickety old bird. Tara affectionately calls it the sky chicken, mostly because it isn't much to look at, her way of a joke. As she slides behind the wheel, she reaches back for her wimple in the back seat. She tugs it onto her lap, and adjusts the fabric into place.

And with that, the Sky chicken rolls out into the streets of Grand Rapids, for the 10 minute jaunt to St. Rose. It was cold windy and overcast, like the first snow of the season was right above our nuns. The sound of the Grand River's water echoing just a few blocks away.

Alexa begins to remove her head covering to fix her hair. Tara stops her, "Leave it on I never get cut off or driven around by cray morning drivers if others think there are nuns in the car."

"Oh Tara," Alexa conforms in action only it stays on during the ride.

Arriving at St. Rose, the sound of the church bells ring a bit muffled by the dense air. Alexa quickly out of the passenger in a flash she was already chatting excitedly with her friend, Asia. Asia is a new Novice Nun from Detroit, she lives in the convent at St. Rose. She mostly keeps to herself, except she is buddies with Alexa.

Tara sees how Alexa is gone in a flash, about to get swept up in her usual whirlwind social interactions.

"Don't wait up for me," Alexa laughs over her shoulder, already turning to walk away. "You know where to find me".

As the nuns of St. Rose ascend the stirs, an overhead shot by a drone (which did not exist in 1978) resembles swimming penguins at the zoo just prior to feeding time.

It is always hard to know exactly when a story begins. Let's say, for arguments sake, it starts right now.

For Tara St. Rose represents her sanctuary. It had been her home since she was a teenager, and in many ways, it was where she had learned to keep her inner chaos at bay. Maybe it was seeing a man in her apartment, or that maybe the Michigan winter is arriving, but today, seems just a bit like a start of something new.

Tara inhales deep through her nose as walked past the old wooden pews, each one worn down by decades of faithful use, to the chapel in the back of the building.

"Morning, Tara," came the soft familiar voice of Sister Evelyn from behind her.

Turning, Tara smiles at Sister Evelyn. Sisters Elelyn and Tabby have come to greet her. Tabby, the current interim Mother Superior, as always is tall and imposing, with a stern face. Tabby's look made Tara feel like she was under a microscope even when she was doing nothing wrong. Evelyn, on the other hand, exudes a gentleness about her that is hard to ignore. Her smile makes Tara feel like she might actually be able to relax, if only for a moment.

"Sister Evelyn," Tara said, smiling back at her. "Good to see you." She only acknowledges Sister Tabby with her gaze, and a nod.

"Good to see you too, dear," Evelyn replies with kindness. "How's everything going?"

Tara muses answering Evelyn but watching Tabby, "Same old, same old". Tara continues, "You know how it is. I do enjoy my social work job at the retirement home. I try to show Alexa a good example."

Sister Tabby perks up an eyebrow, as she has mastered over the years. Tabby says, "I see? I'm sure we could have a long discussion about what 'same old and good example means, but I won't keep you." She turned and began walking toward the chapel, her heavy footsteps echoing on the wooden floor.

Tara enters St. Rose's chapel and takes in the scent of ancient incense, old lumbar, and dust. Tara sits in a pew near the back, her mind spinning from the tension she has around Sister Tabby.

Sister Andrea, Tara's closest friend in the convent, already sitting in the pew beside her. Andrea gives a small under the hand silent smile and wave to Tara.

"Hey," Tara whispers, offering a half-smile.

Andrea whispers back, "You okay?". Her eyes scanning the room, making sure no one was eavesdropping.

Tara shoulders slumping slightly, "Sister Tabby's in one of her moods again."

"Ah," Andrea replies, her voice light with amusement. "I can tell. You have that look. The 'I'm not in trouble yet, but I will be soon' look." Andrea kind of giggles.

Tara snorts, feeling a little lighter, "Pretty much. Honestly, I don't even know how she does it. Just looks at me, and suddenly I feel like I've committed a crime."

Andrea laughs softly, leaning closer, "She does have that power, doesn't she?"

Tara smiles, "Yeah, it's terrifying. But seriously, what do you think happens to nuns who get on her bad side?"

Andrea reflecting her thoughts for a moment for a moment, as she considered the question, "Well, they either get so miserable they can't stay, or they get promoted. Head nun, or nothing." She gave a mock serious expression, "No middle ground."

Tara snorts again, a grin spreading across her face,"That seems right."

Andrea with very little motion shakes her head, "Nope. It's Sister Tabby's way or the highway."

Tara leans back in the pew, looking up at the stained-glass windows above. Sister Tabby's voice cut through the air as she approaches the altar. Tara stiffens automatically, lowering her head. Her gaze flickers to Andrea, who looks entirely unbothered by Tabby's presence.

"Good morning sisters of St. Rose, I trust we're all ready for service?", Tabby asks. The question is rhetorical.

Tabby's eyes go over to Tara, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, before she turns toward the altar, her steps echoing through the chapel.

Tara whispering, "What do you think she's going to do to me today?"

"Well," Andrea whispers back with a reassuring smile, "if she's already made it a habit to stare you down like that, cross our fingers my friend - just maybe, the storm will pass."