“You’re WHAT?”
“You heard me.”
“But you’re gay, and I’ve only started to get my head around that.”
“Mum… I guess the boss doesn’t mind about that. He was quite clear that he wanted me, and just the way I am.”
“You’re wrong. I won’t let you do it. You can’t do it.”
“I’m 28 years old and yes, I can do it and I will do it. Shit, mum, that’s why I’m here. I want you to be there.”
“No way.”
“Mum…”
“When did you decide, anyway?”
“I was running around naked, in a thunderstorm.”
“With Monica?”
“No. She left me two years ago, Mum.”
“Two years? I should find you a man.”
“MUM!”
“And God was in the thunderstorm?”
“No. He came later. I was sitting on a rock, watching the storm slide away across the sea. He sat by me and loved me. I loved him back.”
“Naked?”
“Under my towel, yes.”
“So you’re telling me that God wants a naked dyke to be a nun?”
“I was a little surprised myself.”
“No. Absolutely no way.”
“Mum, please. Come to my Profession. St. Mark’s, on the 22nd, at two. Please.”