Chameleon Read Free

Joe Louis.’ And with that, he takes a swing at me—a roundhouse right.
    “Well, I knew darn well he wasn’t Joe Louis—but I knew what he was gonna do next. So I ducked and got the hell out of there so fast they couldn’t have caught me, even if they’d been firing bullets. Man, I really moved.”
    Still no sound from the nun. Well, maybe she’d fallen asleep. Hell, it was late enough. Matter of fact, after this fare, he was gonna go home and get some sleep himself.
    It’s simply too late , she thought; I’m too tired to make a hard and fast decision about quitting right now.
    But tomorrow, she’d give the idea a serious analysis. Yeah, that was it: Something as crucial as this demanded the light of day before any firm decisions were reached.
    “Well, here we are, Sister.”
    For the first time since their brief journey began, she was conscious the cab was not moving. “Oh?” She glanced out the window and recognized the familiar old, dirty gray buildings that had at one time, many decades earlier, constituted one of Detroit’s prestigious parishes. She rummaged through her purse. “Listen,” she told the cabbie, “wait for me here. I won’t be long.”
    “Wait?! Are you kidding?”
    “No, I’m not kidding. I want you to wait for me!” Testiness crept into her voice.
    “Look, Sister, I don’t mind drivin’ you to this neighborhood, but I ain’t about to sit here like a duck waitin’ for somebody to step out of the shadows and off me.”
    “What are you anyway, a lily-livered coward? Nobody’s gonna hurt you, little man.”
    “No need to get on your high horse, Sister. I’m not arguing with you. I’m just tellin’ you I ain’t gonna wait for you, that’s all.”
    She was furious, but said no more. She found her cash and peeled off just enough for the fare plus an infinitesimal tip.
    He quickly tabulated the excess as she exited the cab. “Thanks a bunch, big spender,” he called out as he peeled away from the curb.
    “Go to hell, you little son-of-a-bitch,” she murmured ineffectually as she watched him speed off.
    It was bitter cold and her coat, while stylish, was not all that warm. She turned her collar up and pulled the lapels as high as they could be stretched. It gave her face and ears some little protection against the wind-whipped snow. She found her keys, turned, and headed for the darkened convent. God, it was cold! Her entire body shook.
    She glanced up at the building, now entirely dark and deserted. She hadn’t planned on staying there this night. But now that the damn cabdriver had left, she had no choice. How was she going to get another cab to come to this neighborhood at this time of night? But of even more urgency was her need to get out of this frigid weather.
    As she walked toward the convent, she recalled the vast number of nuns who had traversed this selfsame pavement over the years. Hundreds, probably. Undoubtedly, none of those nuns had actively chosen to be missioned to St. Leo’s. They had been sent. And they went. Obedience. There must have been in excess of twenty nuns here at any given time years ago. Now just one person inhabited this entire building. What a waste! How senseless!
    Just the thought of the olden days when there were so many nuns living and working in buildings like this brought to mind the old joke—definitely dated now, when the legendary chockful of-nuns convents of the past no longer existed—about the repairman—Protestant—who was called to a convent to repair electrical outlets. He was taken to the site of the main problem—the convent’s living room. The nuns called it their common room. While he was working away, all the nuns entered the room to spend some quiet time before supper. Their order’s Rule demanded that at this hour they assemble together in absolute silence. And so they did.
    The repairman observed this for the full hour they were together. Finally, the nuns left the room for dinner. Shortly thereafter, the