32. Dangerous

Terd surprises and scares me.  I tried to take him aside this morning to talk, but he refused.  At breakfast he sat mum and rigid, staring straight ahead as if he was asleep with his eyes open, or in hospital ward for catatonics.

Later, as I was sorting type in the cellar I heard footsteps and soon Agnes stood next to me at the type bench.

“I am so upset, Brother Abbot,” I said.

“I know,” he replied, “but you mustn’t worry.  Let me handle Brother Theresa.”

“How has this happened, Agnes?”  I cried.  “What the hell is going on here?”

 “Jesse,” said the abbot, “I can’t speak of what your Brother evidently hasn’t shared with you.  Let’s just say he is having a tough time lately.”

“Tough time?  I’d say so!  I’ll speak frankly, Agnes,” I said.  “It is unfair that whatever is going on between you and Terd should affect the rest of us.”

“Ordinarily, you’d be right about that,” said Agnes.

But he said no more.  He looked around the cellar as if it could use some picking up.  Then he turned and left, climbing back up the stairs.