Fighting For Love

XVI - Confessions

    Hey, my pretties, how'd you do?

    I've recently came across a wave of inspiration (Christmas miracle, if you will) and this is the best thing that came out of it.
   
    Without further to say, I'll leave you with this.

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   Chapter 16: Confessions

June 14th, 1940 - 20:00

Reims, France

   We followed Gascon to the same corridor that Gérald passed through minutes before. It was a candid corridor, with solid granite walls, no paintings or windows on the right side and pointed arches, ramarkable characteristic of the Gothic architecture, that opened to an inner garden, the cloister, I supposed, on the left side. Everything under a vaulted ceiling that was probably built about 500 years ago.

   "We do not usually receive guests inside the monastery." The monk started off, as we turned left in the end of the corridor. "You see, most people usually prefer to stay at our school or at the hospital and never bother to visit us. All those 'Black Monks' stories freak the people out and they forget that we are human beings too."

   "If that makes you feel better, you have always been my aunt's favourite congregation." Nicole said. Gascon's facial expression was unreadable, but he might have liked the compliment.

   "Well, it doesn't really matter. At least nobody questions what we do here." He corrected himself later. "Not that we do anything wrong here. God, please, no, not at all. But I think you have got the point."

   "We have." She spoke for me.

   I was not paying direct attention to the conversation, it was actually playing in the background of my mind, since my attention was caught by the cloister of the monastery, where some monks were sitting on small stone tables, playing cards or chess, and others were on a few benches scattered around the place, chitchatting or appreciating the nature. For one moment, I felt like I could be a monk.

   My attention turned back to the corridor when we stopped in front of a pointed wooden door, made in the same style as the arches were. The door opened and revealed in front of us the refectory. Two long tables that stretched for over twenty meters each and could easily seat 200 people occupied most of the room. There was a solid granite wall on the left, with another door, that should probably lead to the kitchen and tall windows on the right, that allowed the room to be filled with sunlight.

   "You two can choose your seats, dinner will be served soon." He said, leaving us behind as he walked through the door on the left wall.

   "He's very nice, isn't he?" Nicole asked me as we walked to our seats on the right table.

   "Nice is not quite the word that was going through my mind. I was thinking more about creepy." She laughed.

   "Well, I must admit that his 'nobody questions what we do here' statement was a little..." She searched carefully for the right word, probably not meaning to offend anyone. "unexpected."

   "That is not the first unexpected thing that happens to me today, then." She looked down.

   "I really don't know what was going on through Gérald's mind that moment. He is not like that."

   "There has been a lot to digest lately. I do not approve, nor am I trying to justify what he did, but I am certainly able to understand why he did it and even forgive him." She glanced at me, smiling.