Birgitta the Nun

Part 14 - The Conflict

The abbess was left alone with her agony, but not for too long: in stormed Birgitta.

Of course, she didn't knock, she never did and that was quite in order. But, something else was not quite alright. Her strides were harder than normal, not comfortable at all - 'bam-bam', the sharp heels of her boots hit the floor with unusual force, and quickly filled the room with negative energy. She hung her head and knit her brows, in the end making her look more like a victim than the impaired abbess, who, despite her misery, clenched her aching jaws and received the nun.

"So—maybe you've heard?" Birgitta muttered. Then, without lifting her gaze from the floor, or offering a greeting of any kind, she walked straight up to the dizzy abbess and declaired, "The cat is gone."

"What cat?" the abbess replied. The words emerged slowly from her disheveled mouth and her eyes twitched as she formed her lips, "Please—do sit down Birgitta, and explain. Your energy is out of proportions today." She pointed to a chair in front of her desk.

Birgitta ignored the chair. She turned her back on the abbess and started pacing the office, letting her heels continued their beating of the floor, 'bam-bam'— Then, with a growl, "The cat, the talking one—by Jove, don't you know the difference?"

"This is not the time or place for blasphemy," the abbess slurred.

Birgitta narrowed her eyes and replied, "It never is—" She kicked her appointed chair. It tipped over. She picked it up, and took a seat.

The abbess looked at her poor chair before continuing, "No, you're right Birgitta - it never is."

"But our friend is gone," Birgitta complained, and wobbled on her chair. "Shouldn't we do something about it?"

"How long has it been missing?"

"A week—" Birgitta choked on her answer.

"One—only one week? Last summer it went missing for a month. It was hunting some poor shepherdess and her sheep, just behind the monastery, thinking it was a wolf or something. Poor things! The shepherdess even filed a complaint, blowing some hot air this way. But soon enough the cat got bored and returned home, and the shepherdess returned to her duties, without pressing further charges."

"Well, this time it's different."

"Maybe it simply took the bus to London," the abbess continued. "Who knows with that cat?"

Birgitta didn't answer but gave the abbess a fearsome stare.

The abbess ignored the look of contempt and continued, "Don't worry so much. It will come home—or it's dead."

"Wha-at—" Birgitta flew from her chair and charged at the abbess. "Who said anything about dying?"

"My GOD Birgitta, you really are making a drama."

"Blasphemy—" Birgitta cried and stamped her foot.

"Calm down Birgitta." The abbess ducked and made ready for a dive under her desk.

"But don't you understand? That cat was a genius - half cat, half wolf, and half tiger."

"That doesn't add up—"

"Pooh—" Birgitta cut off. "Did you see its color? Did you ever take care to really look at its lustrous little cat belly? Its color was the most beautiful thing—it was like a clear night without stars."

"Pitch black?" the abbess raised an eyebrow.

"Don't try to simplify."

Normally Birgitta was just a stubborn nun, not an emotional one; normally the two colleagues would have an animated discussion without any real resentment; but today it was different - today both Birgitta and the abbess were wounded.

The abbess rose from her seat. She leaned towards Birgitta, fixed her with her eyes, and said in a low - very low - voice, "Everlasting hope, is it? What are you wishing for, darling? A miracle? Your cat died and no one is to blame for it. We all loved that cheeky little cat, you know—" She took a deep breath and straightened her back, then continued in a slightly less eerie voice, "Maybe you could train a new cat? If one could talk, then maybe another will as well."

"But I don't want a new cat," Birgitta whimpered. She sank down on her rickety chair, put her chin in her hands and sighed, "You can't just replace it—when I die, will you be getting a new Birgitta then?"

"Birgitta—" the abbess brought the flat of her hand hard down on the desktop. When she lifted it again the palm was bright red. "Stop being such a child. Are you a nun or a bigot? You have no property because this is what it turns you into - a menace. Nothing belongs to the monastery. It is free of charge and claims, and so should you be."

Birgitta let her head stay in her hands, and kept her eyes on the floor. Her reply was barely audible, "The cat wasn't mine, I just got attached to it—"

"Then that's where you failed!" the abbess thundered.

Birgitta rose from her chair—

For more than one reason, a conflict arose between the two colleagues. Each nun had her own excuse for overreacting. Now, that was alright - overreacting was not such a big thing - the unfortunate thing was that they happened to collide. Sorrow and pain makes anyone selfish, and two selfish beings make no company, especially not in a monastery. Something had to happen, someone had to go - and Birgitta left.