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Chapter 25
25 Three weeks later“Do you have enough socks?” Brother Connor asks. “Maybe you need more.” “I’m sure they’ll have a way for me to do laundry,” I say, joining him to look down at my borrowed suitcase. It’s currently the most boring suitcase known to humankind—black socks, black boxer briefs, black habits and scapulars. My breviary, the copy of Summa Theologiae that Tyler gave me for Christmas last year. Toiletries. Head meds. Passport. Everything is ready for me to go tomorrow. And I’ve been ready for so long that I’d start walking to the airport now if they’d let me. The abbot said I could go as long as I used the trip to examine what I wanted out of a monastic life, and I told him I would . . . but I already know I don’t need to. And I’m eager to prove it to him—that this is
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