So, in trotted Mom. She was alone, of course, no dad, and thank God, no boyfriend, which you’d better believe, would be worse than no dad.
She was wearing a red suit with a tight black patent leather belt, matching patent leather shoes and a pillbox hat. The shoes are so shiny you can see your reflection in them and I knew Mom has bought them for this occasion.
She looked smashing. I looked over at Sister Stanislaus to see if she noticed how great my Mom looks.
She noticed all right and she wasn’ not pleased. She was staring right at Mom and scowling. Her jaws were clamped tight and her cheeks were making that small motion that happens when she is biting down on the skin inside her cheek.
I know she does it because I do it too. I do it when I’m worried. I have a little ridge on either side of the inside of my cheeks from doing it so often. I imagine Sister Stanislaus has those ridges, too.
Mother Superior was staring, too. The softness had left her face. She glanced at Sister Stanislaus.
Mom noticed the nuns glaring at her. She shifted her weight from one shoe to the next. She sat on one of the seats set out for the parents. I knew she’d intended to go over and speak to my teacher and I knew, too, the glare has unnerved my mother so much that she would not go over.
I knew that my mother would leave before the concert is over. And she did.
I saw her empty chair and I knew my mother has left feeling full of shame. Sister Stanislaus said in a loud voice, in front of all my classmates, in front of many of the parents, “Who was that woman who came wearing red during Lent? Does anyone know who that woman was?”
