Forbidden Rome, page 17
“Hello, Monsignor. It’s good to see you again. I am just on my way back to the college for evening prayer.”
“Well, this is a wonderful coincidence. I am on my way to say Mass for the sisters at the Monasterium S. Luciae in Silice. Have you been to the cloisters there?”
“No, I haven’t. I imagine it’s beautiful.”
“They are beautiful, indeed. Why don’t you come along? It would be a rare opportunity for you to see the private cloisters, and I would be grateful for the company,” Monsignor Kowalski offered.
“I would love to, Monsignor, but I shouldn’t miss evening prayer. I’ve only been here for three weeks, and I don’t want the rector to get the wrong impression of me. Besides, I am hardly dressed for Mass,” Anthony replied.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Anthony. I can contact Monsignor O’Connor to tell him that you served at Mass with me. And as far as your attire is concerned,” the Monsignor said as he blatantly looked him up and down, “no one will know what you have on under your cassock–well–except for me.” For the first time, Anthony was embarrassed by his dress. The sun was still up, and the temperatures in Rome were soaring, as was typical during late August.
Anthony had known that it wasn’t customary for adults to wear short pants in Rome. Only little children wore them, but it was hot, and he didn’t much care what anyone thought of him. The Roman heat and humidity were stifling; why should Anthony follow local customs rather than ease his suffering? He was an American in Rome, an adult, and he would dress as he pleased. Wearing the standard preppy uniform – a brightly colored Izod polo, a pair of white Ocean Pacific shorts, and docksiders without socks, Anthony knew he stood out in the sea of Italians dressed in dark colors, as well as the many Roman clerics in black cassocks rushing about the neighborhoods surrounding St. Peter’s Square. However, it was evident that Monsignor Kowalski took notice of his inappropriate outfit.
“I’m sorry, Monsignor. I didn’t expect to run into anyone I knew today. I probably should have worn long pants, but it’s just so hot,” Anthony replied to Monsignor Kowalski.
“The Roman summers are certainly oppressive, but I’m sure that showing off your legs like that has garnered a great deal of attention in our holy city. Rest assured, I am not offended in the least. Now, get in the limousine, and we’ll be on our way.” How could Anthony refuse? It was an incredible opportunity to serve Mass with Pope John Paul’s personal secretary. He’d be crazy to turn him down.
As Anthony slid into the luxurious car, the cool leather caressed his bare thighs. It felt so good after being out in the hot, humid weather. He let go of his worries and thought back to when he first met Monsignor Kowalski. All the new men at the North American College seminary had been in attendance. St. Peter’s square was packed with faithful Catholics from all over the world, waiting to catch a glimpse of the charismatic Pope John Paul II. Their seats had been prominently positioned right up front. Just behind them, a row of Spanish nuns had greeted them amicably as they took their seats. Dressed in their black suits and black ties in the hot August sun, the new seminarians had suffered through the Pope’s greetings in many languages. After his introductory remarks, there was a reading from scripture followed by a sermon.
Including the wait time, the audience was over three hours long. Even still, Anthony was enthralled; he was oblivious to any discomfort as he gazed upon the stage that was lined with cardinals dressed in bright red and bishops in brilliant magenta. Behind the dais rose the façade of St. Peter’s Basilica, topped by its gleaming white cupola. He could hardly believe that he was only steps from the Vicar of Christ, the head of the Roman Catholic Church.
When it came time for the Pope to step down from the papal throne, Anthony felt the adrenaline rushing through his veins. As was the custom, the Pope walked along the guardrails to greet the faithful and give them his blessing. The crowd rushed toward the barriers for an opportunity to shake his hand. Being short and quick, Anthony was adept at weaving through crowds, under people’s arms, and through any opening, where he soon found himself squarely in front, directly against the barricade. The hordes were pushing from all sides, but he found his spot and held his ground against the demanding crowd. As the Pope neared, he could feel the excitement mount. The lovely Spanish nuns that were seated just behind the seminarians at the start of the audience became frantic and climbed onto his shoulders in hopes of touching the Pope. It was suffocating as he felt the masses push in on him from all sides – he could feel the wooden barrier pressing uncomfortably into his stomach and ribs.
Anthony kicked into survival mode and flexed his muscular arms, elbowing anyone who tried to press in on him. It was comical that everyone around him, and perhaps he too, was losing their composure, becoming like little children desperate for attention.
Slowly, Pope John Paul II made his way toward the seminarians of the North American College. He appeared bigger than life. John Paul was robust and healthy, and his smile was as broad as his shoulders. When he shook Anthony’s hand, he placed his other hand upon his upper arm. Knowing that the seminarians from the North American College were in attendance, he asked his name and what diocese he was from.
The Pope encouraged him, “Anthony, listen to the Holy Spirit as you continue on your path toward ordination. If you place your trust in God, you will never falter.” Anthony felt like he had just seen the face of God and that he received a direct message.
Later, on the walk back to the seminary, the other guys ribbed him good-naturedly, laughing about his sprint to the guardrail. Still awestruck from his brief encounter with the Pope, Anthony realized someone was addressing him. Following directly behind the Pope was his personal secretary, who John Paul had brought with him from Poland. Anthony was still speechless when he greeted him.
The secretary had taken note of his name during his brief conversation with the Pope and spoke to him personally, engaging Anthony in a more extended discussion. “Ciao, Anthony, it is good to meet you. My name is Monsignor Kowalski. I am the personal secretary to His Holiness. You and your classmates have just recently arrived from the States. Tell me, how are you adjusting to Rome?”
“Buon giorno, Monsignor. Being at the heart of the Catholic Church is a great privilege,” Anthony replied earnestly. “I can hardly believe that the North American College is only steps away from St. Peter’s Basilica. I can’t wait to explore this beautiful and ancient city.”
“That’s wonderful, Anthony. Perhaps I can help. I would be happy to show you around.”
The Monsignor handed Anthony his card and extended an invitation to contact him directly at his private number. He then moved on to speak with the other seminarians. Anthony placed the card in his wallet. Still walking on clouds from his post papal contact, he fully planned on contacting the Monsignor in the coming weeks. What an incredible coincidence to have run into him today, Anthony thought.
Initially, their conversation was formal, but the Monsignor did his best to put him at ease. He asked questions about what brought him to NAC, and Anthony entertained him with opinions on moral theology and expounded upon the philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas and his theory of natural law. He spoke for the entire drive to the Monasterium. Everything about Rome enchanted him: the cobblestone streets, the grand churches, and beautiful fountains. Anthony had always wanted to become a priest, but he never imagined that his studies would take him to the heart of the Catholic Church. He marveled at the Church’s history, which revealed itself at every turn. Even his address at the North American College stated that he was living in the Vatican City State.
Anthony could see a look of mild amusement on Monsignor Kowalski’s face. He seemed to be enchanted by his idealism, and Anthony was more than willing to oblige.
Once in the sacristy, Anthony donned the black cassock and surplice and served Mass with the Monsignor. Enthralled with the solemnity of the convent, he passed into another realm as the sacrifice of the Mass revealed its sacred mystery. Holding the patent under the chin of each nun, it felt as if he were serving at the right hand of God. The entire scene was beyond his imaginings; the barrel-vaulted ceiling and frescos glowed in the candlelight. Incense filled the sanctuary, and the chanting voices of the nuns echoed in the ancient space. It was as if he were a character in a Fellini film. He could barely believe this was merely the beginning of his stay in the eternal city.
Back in the sacristy after Mass, Monsignor Kowalski took off his vestments, revealing his ample potbelly. He was feeling more brazen and placed his arm around Anthony’s shoulder. “Now wasn’t that worth missing evening prayer at the North American College?”
“It was beautiful, Monsignor.” Anthony replied. “Thank you so much for this opportunity.”
“All right then, what do you say we find a nice little trattoria? I could use something to eat,” Kowalski offered.
“Well, I am always up for pasta. Why not?” he agreed. Anthony was more reflective at dinner than he had been during the drive to the cloister. Serving Mass in its historic chapel made him feel as if he had been in the presence of true holiness. He was struck by the realization of how unique his seminary experience would be.
Throughout dinner, Kowalski peppered him with questions. Where did he go to school? How many siblings did Anthony have? Did he ever have a girlfriend? Had he ever been in love? - Anthony thought nothing of it and answered each question without guile. Only later he realized that Kowalski was sizing him up, leading him to share even more personal details.
After dinner, the limousine driver opened the door, and Anthony scooted in after the Monsignor. Once in the car, their conversation became more personal as the driver took them in the direction of St. Peter’s Basilica.
The Monsignor usually waited until their second or third meeting, but Kowalski decided that he had discovered enough about Anthony to take a chance.
“This has been a lovely evening, Anthony. I am not ready for it to end,” he said as his eyes blatantly scanned at Anthony’s biceps, broad chest, and rested on his crotch. “You know, there aren’t many joys in my administrative, clerical life at the Vatican. But I’m often delight by you shiny new men from the North American College.” Anthony was caught off guard by his remark. He wasn’t sure what he meant, but he suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Why don’t you come to my suite for an after-dinner drink?” Kowalski continued. “There is a lovely view of the Basilica from my apartment. Perhaps we can continue getting to know one another?”
“That sounds wonderful, Monsignor, but it’s getting late. I should get back to the seminary.”
“It’s only nine o’clock–come for one drink, and I promise to get you home at a reasonable hour.”
“Honestly, Monsignor, I can’t. I have so much homework to do for Italian class tomorrow. But I would love to get together with you again soon. I hope you understand.”
“Well, of course, Anthony,” he said as he placed his hand on Anthony’s thigh and squeezed. “Are you sure I can’t persuade you to join me for just one drink?”
With the feel of Kowalski’s hand on his thigh, Anthony’s eyes were opened. This was no friendly mentor taking him under his wing. Kowalski was making a pass at him. Anthony could feel his heart beating rapidly within his chest. He didn’t know how to handle it, but he knew he had to get out of the car immediately. He looked past the Monsignor out the window; they were just crossing the Tiber river, heading toward the Vatican. There in the distance, the imposing dome of St. Peter’s Basilica glowed against the darkening sky. The irony of his present circumstance was not lost on him. Then Anthony shifted in his seat so that Kowalski’s hand fell from his leg.
“Oh, Monsignor, it was incredibly generous of you to treat me to dinner, and I have so enjoyed our evening together, but I must get back to the seminary. I am sure that they will be wondering where I am after all this time. We are so close to NAC; I can get out right here. It’s right up the hill, and I could use a walk after such a big meal.”
“No, no, we will drive you to the gates. There is no need to walk,” Kowalski said, showing a slight annoyance.
“Anthony, my son, there will be many doors opened to you should you make the correct choices during your time here in Rome. Keep your sights on the prize and what you envision for your career. Look for people who might help in achieving those goals.” The Monsignor said, looking at Anthony. “In my position, I can be the gatekeeper to many unimaginable opportunities for you.”
“Yes, Monsignor, I truly appreciate your guidance. This evening has opened my eyes,” he said honestly.
“You have my card. I hope to hear from you soon, Anthony. You will call me, yes?” he asked.
“Of course, Monsignor. Thank you again for dinner; I really enjoyed talking with you.” The limousine pulled up beside the cast iron gate of the North American College, and Anthony hopped out as quickly as he could. With a disingenuous smile, he turned back and gave Kowalski a wave as he dashed through the doors.
Once in his room, he sat on his bed and held his head in his hands. What just happened? It started so innocently. Was he actually trying to get into my pants? That’s absurd. The more he thought about his encounter with Kowalski, the angrier Anthony became. His eyes had been opened, all right. The guy was a chicken hawk who preyed upon powerless young seminarians.
He began to accept the fact that there was nothing innocent about Kowalski’s intentions. The Monsignor obviously saw Anthony as an easy target and lured him into a false sense of security. Anthony had felt honored, special. The Pope’s secretary remembered him and wanted to spend time with him. Kowalski was one step away from the Pope. It was clear that Anthony had misunderstood his intentions. How could I have been so naïve? he thought. The signs were all there, so why didn’t I see it coming?
He had been here before; the seduction and the manipulation were all so familiar. He thought that he had put all of it behind him, but memories of a similar encounter flooded Anthony’s mind.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Misplaced Trust
Anthony could picture every detail of that night. The day before, he had gotten into a car accident while driving to a high school party. Working a full-time summer job at a local department store, Anthony was assigned to the closing shift that Friday. By the time he got his department in order and got on the road, it was already past 11:00. It had been a long day, and Anthony was tired, but there was no way he was going to miss out on the party. He had been working forty hours a week all summer long, including Fridays and Saturdays. He rarely saw his friends, so he was determined to have some fun. Drew’s house was on the north side of town, where all the rich people lived. Grand colonial houses were perched on vast lawns with tree-lined driveways. Drew’s parents had a luxurious pool and an expansive game room. It promised to be a great party.
Though he’d been to Drew’s house before, he never paid much attention to the directions. Not being in the driver’s seat, there was no need. Anthony had gotten his driver’s license only three months before and was still unsure of the roads.
As he entered the neighborhood, he was having trouble remembering where to turn. He could picture it in mind, but the streets all looked the same to him. Anthony just needed to keep his eyes peeled for his landmark–if he passed the little fountain, he had gone too far. Grand maple and oak trees obscured the streetlamps, which made it difficult to read the signs.
As he passed by a familiar street on the left, Anthony craned his head to read the street sign. Yes, that was it, his mind registered just as the sound of crashing metal and skidding tires resonated through his ears. He felt the initial impact when his head hit the steering wheel and snapped backward. Then the car spun around, and when it finally came to a halt, his entire body was shaking. Anthony had drifted over the double yellow line into oncoming traffic. Luckily, his front end had smashed into the rear door of a car traveling in the opposite direction. Had his Ford Maverick drifted a moment sooner, it would have been a head-on collision.
After a few minutes of stunned confusion, he focused his eyes and reached for the handle of the car door. He put his feet on the asphalt and rose slowly, but his legs were shaking so much that he fell back into his seat. Anthony looked up to see a man walking over from the car he hit. He was waving his arms and cursing at him. “What the hell were you thinking, you dumb ass? You drove right into me!”
“I, I’m s-sorry, sir. It’s all my fault. I lost my way, and…” Anthony stuttered.
“You’re damned right, it’s your fault. Give me your insurance card and your license.”
“Yes, Sir. I am so sorry. Here it is.”
“How old are you? You look like you’re thirteen. Was this your first time out?”
“No, I’m sixteen years old. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” Anthony responded pathetically. His parents were going to kill him. How were they going to pay for this? His Dad had been out of work for months and was struggling to get by. This was the last thing his parents needed. By the time they had exchanged information, the police had arrived. Since nobody was hurt and they had established the fault, they simply took statements from both drivers and let them go. Anthony was a wreck. How can I tell Mom that I crashed her car? he thought. How is she going to get to work on Monday?
The following day unfolded as he expected. His parents didn’t yell or punish him. They knew he hadn’t been drinking and that he was a responsible son who was working throughout the summer to help with expenses. Still, they were distraught. Insurance would pay for most of the damage, but the deductible would have to be paid out of pocket. With Anthony’s Dad laid off from work, every penny counted. To make matters worse, it would leave them with only one car for weeks while the repairs were being done. Since it was a Saturday, Anthony and his parents kept to their routine and went to the 5:00 Mass. Afterward, they walked down the aisle and out to the car.
