When Anger Speaks

Peaceful Protest

A thick sound of rustling cloth quietly fills the space between Arturo and myself. The crisp, tangy scent of peppermint gum accompanies the pressure of a soft hand on my left shoulder. I look up. My burning eyes meet the nun's cool green, glinting with a tiny dot of light.

"Wait, son," her words whisper peppermint.

Red hot anger is gripping my face while flashing flames dash through my eyes. A cool liquid sensation seeps out of her hand, slowly entreating the heat to take its leave. I shift my pleading glance to Arturo.

He pulls the gun muzzle away from the stranger's temple, where he'd been contemplating death's judgement. He takes notice of the nun's hand on his shoulder and looks deep into her eyes. Her left hand leaves his shoulder and opens with a gesture indicating a change in the gun's possession.

"Matalo!" The words cascade from wagging mouths.

One word from her pushes them back.

"Wait."

Her right hand leaves my shoulder and takes possession of the space between her and them. She draws a cross that shimmy's in the air before their eyes.

A gasp claims their minds and everyone sits back onto the bench, eyes searching for the power that's standing behind her words.

"What will you choose?" Her face turns and green eyes look deep into ours'--glinting a tiny light.

"Will you choose to live with darkness and kill?" She lets the words gather in the still air where the vision of the evaporating cross still commands our attention.

"Or...will you choose life?" Peppermint punctuates her words.

"Do you want to live with the torment where taking another's life will forever haunt your dreams?"

The rustling of her robe follows a quick turn to the other faces, her eyes sweep the passengers jostling to regain space on the wooden benches, and she repeats the message in Spanish.

She quietly stands and takes hold of the door handle with both her hands. One wide sweep of her arms makes the door groan a brief response to the labor that forces it open. The motion of her arms echos into billowing sleeves that gather into a company of wrinkles at her elbows.

"It's your choice," a puff of peppermint breath holds her words before us. She nods toward the opening, asking for our contemplation of her intentions.

I look into Arturo's eyes. "What do you say?" Everything she's saying sends a smile deep into my mind. Her peppermint-breath falls over me like cool water, words mingle with something, like the shape of a cross, speaking peace into my soul. I choose mercy!

Arturo must be tormented with the same decision that is grappling for a handhold on the folds filling my brain.

His eyes make a handshake with mine.

"Let's roll him out!" He yells.

"Stop!" I yell at the driver.

Our arms move together with one purpose. The stranger's body rolls toward the open space, across the narrow combi's floor.

Out!

It's a short drop to the street's warm asphalt. A group of people waiting on the side walk retreat with a gasp.

The nun's arms swing into reverse and the door closes with another moan of dry metal—scraping.

The van lurches forward, leaving a loud farting noise to mark its passing. Everyone inside leans back, resting once more on the wooden bench, clinging to the Combi's metal walls.

Someone pushes the cloth curtain away from the back window. We see a crowd circling, crouching down toward the ejected stranger. The curtain is quickly closed and we look toward the front. Eying the scene of shops and shoppers. I silently ask them to pull our attention away, away from the most recent pause in our journey.

"Like I said...The chica's are waiting!" Arturo's face relaxes around a smile.

I lean back against the van's warm metal wall. A sigh of relief whispers out of my lips. My eyes sweep around and gather in the images of people turning back to what had captured their attention before...well...before that brief experience that would linger for a few moments in the memories of another day.

The nun is immersed in her knitting. And, a gentle smile has taken hold of her lips.

"Right...It's better to think about the chicas." A knowing warmth reflects the peace that's resting lovingly in my mind.

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