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The convent was very crowded these days. Receiving visitors and priests and important bishops to spend the Christmas and having nice celebrations was of course very important not only for the convent itself — with donations and important deals closed by the Mother Superior — but also because it served to show visitors how important the resources were being spent.
Alma knew about it but it still made her mad. She was still young, but she was the only one of the new nuns to actually take a job in the administration, even if not officially. She spent all of her “free time” inside the Mother Superior’s office providing solutions for the financial crisis and could never share how tired she became from that with anyone. Not that Therèse, her roommate and closest friend of hers, didn’t know she was up to something. But Therèse never asked any information she knew Alma could never share with her, only offering a kind smile and a tea before they went to bed, and when the night was cold as it could be Therèse also offered herself in a hug to help Alma — tense and sleepless Alma — fall asleep. They would hug on the small couch, Therèse would sing some Ave Maria prayer, the one Alma said she liked, and the night would erase that little moment of profound devotion they held on each other.
Alma knew she was falling in love, even though it never felt terrorizing or unsettling. She never confessed anything because in reality she never felt there was something to confess. They never slept with each other, never kissed each other, never had any kind of conversation that led towards the ways of sin.
Instead, Alma felt Therèse was making her closer to God for it was because of how Therèse moves, speaks and prays that Alma knows in her body and soul that God really is present every day.
Still, there were some little moments Alma questioned herself if a kiss would really change any of that. Christmas brought one of these moments.
Alma was trying to fix a mistletoe on the ceiling of one of the entrances of the convent; they would hold some festivities after the Christmas mass for the visitors Alma was now not allowed to speak to. The Mother Superior could not let them know a new young nun was the one playing them and the one that was actually running the money from the place. So she was granted the simple and yet annoying tasks to fix the mistletoes.
All that brain inside your head and you are stuck with decoration.
She couldn’t reach the higher one, so she searched for a little bench to climb to. Swearing too loud, Alma tiptoes on the bench to finally reach the little motherfucker-mistletoe that refused to be in its place and almost tripped — but some strong arms caught her before her feet escaped the bench.
“Heavens, Alma, why wouldn’t you ask for help?”
Alma didn’t notice she had screamed.
“Jesus Christ… I almost…”
“Yes, you almost fell backwards! You should come to me and ask for help, I can reach them without the bench.”
“Sorry.”
And Alma noticed too late that Therèse was holding her waist firmly and that her face was close to hers. Her friend was tall as a supermodel, while Alma had just the normal height to be impressed by Therèse’s. Standing there on the bench, still shaking from the almost fall, she looked inside her friend’s blue eyes and noticed it was the first time she was able to look at her from this angle while standing. She needed a bench to make Therèse look at her without curving herself down or having to sit down on a couch. Alma noticed she had her hands on her shoulders for the first time and that her hand could easily slip to Therèse’s cheeks and bring her closer for a perfect kiss under a mistletoe on Christmas.
Something inside Therèse’s blue eyes changed, maybe she found herself with the same improper thought, because how would you feel that towards a friend, especially when that friend is a nun, a bride of Jesus, just like you?
Alma had the courage to put a hand on Therèse’s cheek and the girl didn’t flinch.
“How did you know I was here?”
“I didn’t.”
And just like a Christmas miracle, Therèse tensed her arms around Alma and pulled her close. They shared a chaste kiss, but Therèse held her so tight that Alma’s feet left the wooden bench, now held in the air only and exclusively by Therèse strong arms.
Alma was slowly pulled down on the floor again, now the height difference far more prominent, and tried not to moan in protest when Therèse’s lips left hers.
“For the luck.” Therèse said.
“Wanna help me with the rest of the decoration?” Alma looked up with her big brown eyes, innocently like a little dove.
…
The convent held festivities that night, with the exact amount of 49 mistletoes properly placed and fixed. Alma saved one for their room.