Forbidden Rome, page 24
“And how about him, has he been having sex with anyone else but you?”
“Look, he’s younger than I am. I’ve had my suspicions, I mean, he’s always been adventurous. But I always assumed that we were faithful to one another. I can’t believe he could betray me like this,” Joe said as he covered his face with his hands once again. He winced from the shooting pain from the IV needle as he bent his arm.
“I’m sure you know many people have multiple partners. I realize that the Church preaches abstinence, but most of the world is not Catholic, and most gay men I know don’t follow that rule.”
“Obviously, I haven’t done a very good job following that rule either. So much for the vow of celibacy. I am so ashamed.”
“You and I have known each other for a long time. I can’t say that I understand the whole idea of celibacy, but I do know a thing or two about human nature. You had sex, so what? The problem is that there’s an epidemic out there. You may very well be caught in the middle of it. I’m sorry.”
“So, what now?” Joe asked desperately.
“We do more tests, and we treat the pneumonia. Fortunately, you are a robust man and have always taken good care of yourself. Leading a healthy lifestyle may help. And for now, don’t engage in any sexual activity.”
“Well, I can certainly assure you of that.”
“Joe, listen to me. Try not to get down on yourself. Your emotional state can harm your health. Please try to let go of your guilt.”
“Who sounds like a priest, now?” Joe said bitterly.
“We can only take this one day at a time. Every day we learn more about this damn disease. Let’s not give up hope.” Dr. Steinburg squeezed his shoulder and left the room. Joe turned his head toward the window as the tears poured from his eyes.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Moving Beyond Shame
Miguel’s departure had been more traumatic than anyone had suspected. Being ripped from the seminary without as much as a warning rocked his foundation. He had known that he was on shaky ground after refusing to go through candidacy, but he never suspected that they would kick him out. And the way it all went down was shockingly cruel. They treated him like a criminal, being whisked away in the dark of night. Thinking back on those two days, he seethed with anger. Pouring salt on the wound, they didn’t even allow him to say goodbye to Kevin and Anthony. His lifelines throughout that year were kept in the dark. What would they think when they found my empty room? He knew they would be shocked and confuse, but his own emotional trial was just beginning to manifest itself.
Miguel spent months trying to make his peace with himself and NAC. Did he have any regrets? Perhaps, but those only concerned leaving his dearest friends behind. He wished he could have protected himself and them from the judgmental eyes of the faculty. He had been naïve to think he could reasonably affect change by leading those seminars on Vatican II. He believed that the faculty would see his passion and dedication to the mission of the Church – that he wasn’t merely a malcontent who was bent upon bucking authority.
He wanted to be seen as a leader whose passion for priestly ministry focused on service to those on the margins. His vocation was not about the trappings of clericalism. It was to spread the gospel through social justice. In hindsight, he understood that although his intentions were good and his reasoning solid, the end result was the same. He was actively challenging their authority, as well as that of the Vatican. By using Church documents to make his arguments, he was more dangerous than Anthony with his emotional outbursts. Miguel inadvertently dug his own grave at NAC.
In taking an intellectual approach to his distaste for clericalism, he stood directly in opposition to the authorities who could determine his future in the Church. Miguel reflected endlessly about his actions during his last months at NAC. He could have done things differently, but ultimately, he was proud of himself. He never compromised his values and always acted with integrity. That is what his father had taught him from a very young age. If that led to his expulsion, then so be it.
Miguel was content knowing that he was true to himself throughout each hurdle he faced. He clung to this during his time of self-doubt. When he arrived on his parents’ doorstep that afternoon, he presented as a broken young man. His dream of the priesthood had been shattered. His very core had been questioned and deemed incongruous with the Catholic Church. Anticipating the myriad questions he’d received from his parents, his shame washed over him like hot oil. His mother didn’t know why her son had appeared at the doorstep, but she could feel his pain. She engulfed her son and drew him into her arms. There were no words necessary – those would come later. At this moment, Miguel needed the unconditional love of his parents.
In the weeks and months that followed, Miguel took his place beside his father at the ranch. The mindless work was balm to his soul. There was no need to overthink – the work was second nature to him. Being connected to the land brought a much-needed perspective to his life. Out on the pastures, the clerical world of Rome was worlds away. The intensity of each conflict at NAC seemed trivial compared to life in the real world. Miguel gradually made his peace with what had come to pass. He wasn’t sure where destiny would lead him, but he knew he’d be able to handle it.
All he needed was time. Eventually, he was able to write a letter to Anthony and Kevin. There was nothing more he wanted than to talk with them about all that had come to pass. Without them, he felt empty and wondered how they were faring. But during the first weeks back home, he did not know what to say. His internal strife took every bit of energy he had left. He waited until enough healing had taken place before he put his pen to the page.
Dear Anthony and Kevin,
I’m sorry not to have been in contact sooner. I have been completely immersed in my own fucked up world – fighting my inner demons, sometimes winning, most times losing. Being suddenly ripped from NAC in such a cold and heartless way tore me to pieces. Not being able to say goodbye to my dearest friends wounded my heart, and I am still waiting for the scars to heal over.
I don’t know how much you know about how it all went down, but you’ve probably surmised that I was viewed as a threat to the established order. O’Connor feared if I were allowed to see you before my departure, it would further poison our class and cause you to question your own vocations. We all know that it’s bullshit. But the fact remains that I’m back in Texas trying to put my life back together without the love and support of my two best friends. I miss you.
Life on the ranch has been good for me. Working beside the man I have admired throughout my life has proven to be my saving grace. I’m sure that you can’t picture me rounding up cattle and cleaning the barn. But I can honestly say that it has been my salvation. The bitterness that I feel toward NAC and the Church remains barely beneath the surface. But the pain and resentment are not nearly as acute as it was during my first weeks back.
I am not sure what is next for me. I still feel a great desire to serve others, but it’s clear that I won’t be doing that as a priest. I’m done with the Church. I know that might be challenging to hear, and perhaps my anger will soften as time continues to pass. But I have to find my own way – without the guidance of the Church. I don’t know what that means yet. For now, I am content in my routine at the ranch, and I pray I will discover my true purpose in life.
Please take care of yourselves and drop me a line when you get a chance. I’m sure Monsignor O’Connor didn’t give you my address. So now you have it. Let me know how you are faring.
I look forward to hearing about the soap opera that is NAC. It’ll be easier to take from thousands of miles away.
Love you guys,
Miguel
Comparatively, that was the easy letter to write. Miguel knew he had to connect with Maria, but he was not ready. How could he consider having a romantic relationship with anybody in his present state? In many ways, Miguel was re-writing his story. All that he and Maria shared over the last months, his grappling with priesthood versus married life, had changed. He hadn’t been the one to decide if the priesthood was for him. NAC had forcefully taken that away from him. Even if he had ended up leaving, it would have been his decision. His hopes and dreams had been thrown up into the air – the pieces were now scattered. During the months since he left NAC, he was slowly beginning to pick them back up while trying to make sense of his life.
Maria was only a junior in college. She was still so young. How could he ask her to take this journey with him? Miguel knew he was still so screwed up, and he needed time alone to figure it all out. He resolved to call her instead. She answered the phone with her usual enthusiasm, and Miguel felt as if his heart was being crushed. After her initial shock, Maria was compassionate and understanding.
“Oh, honey, I am so sorry. I hate them for doing all that to you. How could they be so cruel?” Maria asked.
“To be honest, Maria, I was shocked by it as well,” Miguel said. “They wouldn’t even let me say goodbye to Kevin and Anthony.”
“Bastards! It makes you want to hate the Church, doesn’t it?” Maria responded in disbelief.
“Yeah, well – I’m still grappling with that. But I’m a mess, Maria. I don’t really know what comes next. I feel completely lost,” he confessed.
“I can’t even imagine,” she said. “Listen, don’t worry about me. I mean it. You have enough to worry about. I’ll be fine, really – I’m in Paris for God’s sake!”
“I want you to know that you transformed my entire experience at NAC, Maria. You were the light that gave me hope. You are what tethered me to the real world, and I am so grateful to you.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Miguel. But listen to me, I’m not ready to give up on us. Promise me we will see each other after you’ve taken some time.”
“Are you serious, Maria? Even though my life is in shambles, you still want to see me?”
“Yes, you fool! I love you, and I think you love me. Let’s not give even more power to those assholes at NAC. Besides, we owe it to each other to see this through.”
“What is it about you that lifts me up like nobody else? You make me want to drop everything and hop on a flight to Paris,” Miguel said with a broad smile.
“Well, then, the semester is nearly over, and I had planned to travel around Europe before my return. It seems like perfect timing. When can I expect you, my dear?”
“That would be so selfish, even foolish.”
“Miguel, you feel like shit. You’ve been beating yourself up for two months now. It’s time to move on. You have a woman living in Paris, longing to be by your side. Foolish would be to ignore her invitation.”
She knew exactly what to say to heal his aching heart. All at once, he felt comforted and hopeful. Why not go for a visit? They would take it one day at a time. Thankfully, there were no critical decisions to be made. He had the ranch and his family. In the end, Miguel knew he would be just fine.
“You must have magical powers, Maria. Why not? I’d love to see you,” Miguel said.
He held the phone away from his ear as he heard her squeal with delight. Perhaps there is a future for Maria and me, he hoped.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
An Alternate Reality
It was late June when Anthony was called the rector’s office. Out of the blue, Monsignor O’Connor summoned him. Anthony was to report to him immediately. O’Connor greeted him at the door with a solemn expression on his face.
“Monsignor, is something wrong? Your secretary said that it was urgent.”
“I’m sorry to have frightened you, Anthony, but yes, we have a dire situation to discuss. Please sit down. Would you like some water?” Monsignor O’Connor said.
“No, no, I’m fine. Please, tell me what’s going on.”
“Anthony, it’s your uncle, Monsignor Joe. He is very ill,” he paused and took a deep breath. “Cardinal McGuire called and asked that you return to New York immediately.”
“What? But I just spoke with my uncle a couple of weeks ago. He sounded so much better.”
“Listen, Anthony, I don’t want to alarm you, but the Cardinal said that his condition is quite grave. Your uncle would like to see you before…” his voice trailed off. O’Connor was rarely at a loss for words, but what more could he say. Anthony’s uncle was dying, and the air of mystery surrounding his illness had everyone on edge. He looked at Anthony with compassion as he tried to make sense of the news. His eyes brimmed with tears, and he ran his fingers through his hair.
“No, this can’t be right. Uncle Joe was fine. He’s such a strong and healthy man. There must be some misunderstanding. He can’t be that sick.”
“I’m sure this is a great shock to you. I wish I had more information for you, Anthony,” the Rector said sincerely. Anthony looked up at Monsignor O’Connor with a startled look on his face. Was he talking to me? He hadn’t heard a word he was saying.
“Anthony, we have booked you on the Saturday flight. That will give you a few days to wrap up your work for the semester and take your remaining finals this week. I realize that this will be very difficult for you, so if you need to talk to any of us on the faculty before your departure, please know that we are here for you.”
“Thank you, Monsignor. I just don’t know what to say right now,” Anthony replied.
“Anthony, I took the liberty of telling Kevin of the situation. He is in the waiting room. I am sure he can help you get everything together. I am so sorry, Anthony.” They stood, and he embraced the catatonic young man before he left the office. O’Connor was genuinely concerned for Anthony. Kevin was pacing outside the Rector’s office. He knew that Anthony would be a wreck.
Except for his parents, his Uncle Joe was the most important person in Anthony’s family. What struck him most was the number of blows poor Anthony had received during his first year at NAC. The darkness that both experienced after Miguel’s departure had finally begun to lift, and he was finally starting to come back to his old self. Now, this. As he waited, Kevin toiled over what to say to him. Just then, the door opened. Without uttering a word, Monsignor O’Connor caught his eye and motioned him over to Anthony. It was almost as if he were in a trance. Anthony looked blankly at his friend as he was led down the hall and to his room. They said nothing to each other the entire way. Kevin opened the door and sat beside him on the bed.
“Hey, Anthony, I’m sorry,” was all he could manage, but that was all it took. Anthony lifted his head as if seeing him for the first time, then buried his face in the crook of his neck, and he began to cry. They remained in that position for what seemed like hours. Few words were spoken, and that suited them both. Then Kevin pulled his suitcase from the closet and helped him pack.
***
After breakfast, Anthony climbed the stairs to his room. This was it – his ride to Fiumicino airport would pick him up within the hour. His bags were piled by his bed, ready to be lugged down to the porter. Laying on top of his backpack was a book, Narcissus and Goldmund, by Hermann Hesse. Kevin had often spoken of the impact it had on him during his final year at St. Thomas Seminary and quoted it quite often. It was a story of two medieval men in monastic life and their unique bond of friendship. It told of their conflict between the flesh and the spirit. Whenever he and Kevin grappled with the meaning of their own relationship, he used a phrase from this book. Kevin is so incredibly thoughtful, he thought. He wished he could bring him to New York with him. Anthony cracked the cover and read the inscription in Kevin’s unmistakable script:
Anthony,
There are no words to express what I feel.
But, as we have discussed over so many lunches, burgers, and precious Thursdays, this book seems to say so much so well.
“Let me tell you today how much I love you,
How much you have always meant to me;
How rich you have made my life…
I know what love is because of you.
You cannot imagine what that means,
It means a well in the desert,
A blossoming tree in the wilderness,
It is thanks to you that my heart has not dried up,
That a place within me has remained
Open to grace.1”
Now & Forever,
Love,
Kevin
Anthony could not hold back the tears any longer. Bringing the book to his bosom, he pressed the precious words to his heart and wept. Anthony did not know what the future held. He didn’t know what kind of pain lay ahead during his visit with his dying uncle. The last twelve months had brought so much unexpected anguish. The young seminarian full of wonder and optimism was no longer.
Through friendships forged and lost, through the struggles of politics and faith, he had become a man. And although the shine had tarnished, he realized that it was through his loss of innocence that his strength was forged, and he was better for it. Kevin was the instrument through which he found his strength. He had guided him through the unfamiliar landscape of seminary life.
Kevin challenged him intellectually and gave him the confidence to succeed in his own way. He loved him tenderly and profoundly. It was through Kevin that he was able to survive this tumultuous year.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Life Without Anthony
The days after exams were filled with disruptions to the schedule. Many of the seminarians were packing for their summer vacations, while new men planned for various study programs and travel. The empty halls echoed with loneliness as Kevin went through the motions of his morning ritual. Each day, after he showered and dressed, Kevin took his journal and walked up two flights of stairs to stop by Anthony’s empty room. Since the doors were not locked, he quietly slipped in and sat on his bed. There was his silly poster of a chimpanzee reading a newspaper juxtaposed by an image of St. Francis that bore a striking resemblance to Anthony himself. Glancing at all of his stuff gave Kevin comfort, but it also tore at his heart. His entire being ached for Anthony. His gaze landed on the makeshift altar in front of the window. On it was a statue that Kevin had given him for Christmas: Mary’s plain wooden image holding out the infant Jesus to the world. There was no detail in the faces, just smooth lines of motion leading out from the carving. He remembered how moved Anthony was to receive it.
