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Catholicism was an integral part of the Lynch family's life.
Niall learned the prayers in Irish from his own father, only to teach them - this time in English - to his three sons. Declan was always the most thorough one. He prayed with his eyes closed and with his hands folded, saying the words accurately (both aloud and in his mind). Matthew was absentminded. He often forgot to pray before meals and quickly became bored in church. Ronan, on the other hand, prayed exactly as he existed: chaotically, quickly, thoughtlessly. He spit out words of prayer just like curses, making them sound dirty, even if his intentions were sincere. The only exceptions to the prayer were the big requests: what he couldn't get out of his own dreams, so he had to ask God. Then the middle brother would go alone to the Church of St. Agnes, kneel in the first pew from the altar and lay his head on one of the benches so that he could collect his thoughts. He would then pray fervently, saying a word that he almost never used: please, please, please.
I.
He made the first of these strange prayers a few weeks after his dad's death, when the initial shock had passed, followed by a stage of anger and self-destruction when he shaved his head, unable to bear a striking resemblance to Niall Lynch. Now, with only grief and pain left, Ronan stole his late father's BMW. He drove straight to the church and, almost tripping over his own feet, arrived at the altar. Requests have never come easily to him, nor have impromptu prayers, but this time the words poured out of him on their own
Ronan hid face in his hands, not wanting anyone to see his tears.
“Please, I beg you, spare my mother,” he began, and his voice broke in half. “She can't... we can't be left alone. Matthew is too small. Declan... is not at all as strong as he shows on the outside. And I... I can't. Let us go home, to the Barns.”
Ronan did not yet know that his mother's coma was not the result of a breakdown after the death of her beloved husband. Ronan did not know that God cannot interfere with dream objects and creatures, nor does he have the power to awaken sleepers. So he continued his pleas hoping that someone would listen.
The lack of answers didn't make Ronan stop praying, but praying didn't make him feel any better either. Aurora didn't wake up, the Barns were still out of reach, and Ronan began to seek relief in alcohol and late-night car racing.
II.
Adam Parrish was an integral part of Ronan's prayers.
The first time was desperate and inexplicable. He and Gansey were driving in a disgusting orange Camaro, which - surprisingly - did not stop halfway up the hill at the time. Ronan leaned out the window, observing the surroundings, and that's when he spotted a boy. Adam Parrish, was climbing up the hill with his scratchy bike. The first thing that caught Ronan's attention, something that has stayed with him forever, were the calloused, boyish hands clenched on the rusty handlebars and the rolled-up shirt sleeves of his worn uniform, exposing his freckled forearms. Ronan involuntarily closed his eyes and thought the first of many times: please.
Soon after, Gansey welcomed Adam into their group. Parrish was untrusting and Ronan was an asshole, so most of the time they jumped at each other's throats. Adam was too proud to reach out first, and Ronan was too wild and unable to show positive emotions, so for months they remained in a strange limbo between hostility and friendship. That didn't stop him from saying short prayers, always with the same content, please, whenever he saw Parrish in the corridors of Aglionby, at the desk in Monmouth, on the couch at Nino's.
But he prayed mostly in front of the altar at St. Agnes Church, as if the holy place would maximize the chance that his requests would be heard.
He prayed when Blue appeared, adding to his formula please look at me instead of her. These prayers usually ended in remorse and a furious pounding on the BMW's steering wheels.
Sometimes his prayers for Adam Parrish were not entirely selfish. The bruises and abrasions on the boy's body were as frequent as Gansey's spring runny nose, and Ronan couldn't watch Adam come to school every Monday with a new souvenir left on his body by Robert Parrish. That's why Ronan prayed. He asked God to let Adam know that he had a rich relative overseas who wanted to take him in and give him a scholarship. He rejected his own selfishness and the fact that his relationship with Adam would probably end before it could even begin. Sometimes he prayed that Robert Parrish would simply die. Sometimes, when his imagination failed, he simply asked for a miracle.
When his prayers were partially answered, and Adam Parrish was forced to move out of the trailer while partially losing his hearing, Ronan stopped praying. He recognized that God listens, but does not give simple solutions.
After Adam's move in over St. Agnes Church, Ronan began praying again, this time limiting himself only to the classic please.
III.
Sometimes Ronan's fervent prayers were also sacrilegious. This is not about the sin aspect per se, or the fact that God could not grant his request. They were simply something that another Catholic would consider an insult to religious feelings or a mockery.
“Parrish,” Ronan said on Sunday morning, when he had already changed into his suit and was almost ready to leave. “I'm going to church.”
He slept in Adam's apartment, directly above the church. He claimed it was a convenience, that he wouldn't have to get up early, that he would be on the spot, and that in the event of an incident named “Declan” he would have somewhere to escape. He knew very well that this was a white lie and only an excuse to be able to spend the evening and night at Adam's place, even if he still slept on the floor with his jacket tucked under his head. But it was enough.
“Do you want to come with me?”
“Lynch,” mumbled Adam, rolling over on his mattress. “I'm convinced that my presence in the church is sacrilegious.”
“Don't exaggerate, you asshole.”
“I'm a tarotist, I don't believe in God, and I'm almost certain that sooner or later Glendower's search will bring a demon to us.”
“I'm the one who pulls objects out of dreams. And hell hasn't consumed me yet.”
“Lynch, man, why do you care so much? You can pray for my salvation yourself.”
Ronan clenched his fists, trying not to blush. Adam had no idea how often he came up in Ronan's prayers, and not necessarily those for salvation. On the contrary.
“Today is the remembrance of St. Christopher,” he said.
“I have no idea what it means, and you know it very well.”
“Basically, it's the memorial of the patron saint of drivers. The priest hallows cars, distributes holy pictures to drivers, blah, blah, blah, and then there are blessings and prayers for road safety.”
“You are a textbook example of the inverse of road safety. You are the reason why such a holiday exists. No holy image will help you if you don't stop racing and take your foot off the gas pedal.”
“Asshole.”
“Go with God and let me sleep. I have to be at work in three hours, so for God's sake, get out of my sight.”
“Shall I bring you some holy water and a picture so that Saint Christopher will have a shitbox in his care? If you stick it on properly and wrap some tape around the dashboard, maybe by divine providence this piece of junk won't fall apart before graduation.”
“Get out, Lynch.”
Ronan left the flat and moved the car in the parking lot so that the priest could access it during the blessing. The other Lynch brothers were waiting at the side door of the church: Matthew sleepy, though cheerful as ever, and Declan, grim as a statue. A polished and shiny Volvo was parked a few meters from them. The windows were still marked by drops of water, although it hasn't rained in weeks. The asshole must have gone to the car wash right before mass.
“I've been waiting all year for a new picture of St. Christopher,” Ronan mocked.
“You have a crumpled shirt,” Declan noted. “You could at least...”
“Drop it. You washed the car beautifully, Declo, the priest will see his own reflection.”
Declan sighed and mumbled only your car could use a wash too, preferably twice, in holy water. Then, they entered the church.
After mass the priest - as he did every year - has told the drivers to go outside and stand by their cars. Declan headed to his Volvo, while Ronan and Matthew headed toward a BMW parked nearby.
“Dear faithful, place your right hand on the hood of the car. I will say a general prayer in a moment, but if you want to say your own, you will have the opportunity to do so when I approach each car to bless it individually,” the priest said, standing in the doorway of the church.
The blessing lasted a maximum of one minute. The priest then headed to the cars one by one, blessing them and handing out holy pictures. Ronan watched the happy families and elderly drivers. Then he looked at Declan, who stiffly made the sign of the cross. Then, it was finally Ronan's turn. When the priest said the short formula for the blessing, Ronan - as he always did during important prayers - closed his eyes and lowered his head. He felt the holy water on his forehead and knew that there will be no better time in terms of what he wants.
“Good God...” mumbled Ronan, quietly enough not to be heard by all the congregation, but loud enough to be heard by Declan, Matthew and the priest who has been watching the Lynch brothers' actions for many years. “Please, let my car always be faster than Kavinsky's fucking junker. Amen.”
When Ronan opened his eyes he has only seen Declan's furious face and a picture with St. Christopher stuck behind the windshield wiper.
IV.
Adam noticed that whenever something important was happening, Ronan stopped by the church for a moment. At first he thought maybe Ronan was going to confession. That it was some kind of Catholic guilt. Adam saw the way Ronan looked at him. He tried not to reveal that he knew. For a long time, therefore, Parrish thought that this was Ronan's way of apologizing to God.
Soon, however, he noticed that Ronan mostly just walked in, approached the altar, closed his eyes and left. Sometimes he would sit down on the bench and whisper something, then shake his head and leave. Adam eventually guessed that this was not an apology or confession without a priest, but a kind of prayer or ritual. What he didn't know was what Ronan was asking so earnestly. The frequency had increased considerably over the past weeks, and it may have had something to do with recent events. However, Adam suspected that if the boy needed answers or help with Glendower, dreams or demons, he would have turned to Cabeswater, not God.
One evening, Ronan got out of the BWM and headed not toward the stairs leading above the parish, but toward the front door of the church. Adam wondered whether to broach the subject, but didn't know how.
“Lynch, move your ass, I have two essays to write!” Adam shouted instead.
“No one makes you wait for me, Parrish, I'll be right back,” snorted Ronan, stepping inside the church.
Indeed, Adam didn't even have time to take off his shoes. Ronan rushed into the apartment and sloppily threw his black jacket on the ground next to the bed. He didn't look like he had just begged God for forgiveness or experienced catharsis. Instead, he put headphones on his head and turned on one of his terrible EDM playlists. Adam was used to doing his homework accompanied by thumping bass. Sometimes he wondered if at some point he would develop a kind of Pavlov's response and not be able to focus without Ronan's electronic music.
The next day after work, while looking for tissues in his car with which to wash the oil and grease off his face, he found a small plastic container in the glove compartment. Inside was a cream that smelled of moss, grass and trees. It smelled like Ronan and Cabeswater and strange dreams. On the rim was a handwritten label: manibus.
A short time later, he found a mixtape in the car, stuck in the player so that it would turn on when the car was started. At first he thought it was another one of Ronan's pranks, but as Murder Squash finished its third playback, a mellow rock sounded from the car's speakers. Adam wondered to what extent this and the earlier find were connected to Ronan's hasty visit to the church.
V.
When Ronan found Adam in his old room he was almost reconciled to the fact that Parrish was a closed case. That there was no chance with him, that in a moment Adam would leave for college anyway. Occasionally he caught him looking, and he saw some of Parrish's looks, but he didn't think it had anything to do with the prayers he had said over the years.
Adam sat on the bed, turning an old toy car in his hands. His gaze was gentle, but the atmosphere in the room was strange.
“I see you found this old thing,” Ronan said to break the silence.
Adam only mumbled something and handed the toy car to Ronan, who sat down next to him. And in one moment Ronan was holding the metal toy, and in the other he was kissing Adam Parrish. He had no idea whether the moment lasted five seconds or two hours, he wouldn't even be able to tell if Adam returned the kiss. Ronan jumped up from his seat and recoiled in horror. Should he apologize? He should apologize.
“I have to...” began Ronan. “I have to go downstairs. I'll be downstairs.”
Ronan almost fell out of the house, straight onto the porch, breathing heavily. He didn't know if he had ruined everything, if he should apologize, what would happen next. One by one, he saw the light in his old room go out, then heard Adam's footsteps on the stairs, and then his hushed voice as he talked to Gansey.
So he screwed up. And now Adam would tell Gansey everything, as if Ronan was a fucking pervert.
Ronan lifted his head up and closed his eyes. It was too late to go to church, so he decided that praying on the porch was okay too.
Please.
At least let him not hate me.
“Ronan?” he was interrupted by Adam's voice.
“Parrish.”
Please.
“I talked to Gansey and...” began Adam and interrupted, seeing Ronan's terrified face, which every now and then closes his eyes.
Adam already knew what Ronan's prayer was about, but decided not to say anything. So he reduced the distance separating them to a minimum and this time it was he who kissed Ronan. This time neither of them ran away. They were still standing on the porch.
“Open your eyes, Ronan. Come inside.”
+1
Ronan made his decision years ago when he saw Adam climbing up the hill with his bike. The following years, adventures, tragedies and events only solidified his decision.
Adam finally finished his university, returned to the Barns and decided he wanted to start his law apprenticeship in Henrietta to help kids break free from homes filled with domestic violence. Ronan couldn't have chosen better.
That day they drove to Cambridge to pack up the rest of Adam's belongings and return to the Barns for good. Adam immediately noticed how nervous Ronan was and how he was groping wildly in his pockets, as if checking to see if anything was missing. Parrish wasn't surprised; he might have thought of a similar gesture himself, if only he hadn't been so stressed about final exams. Ronan was always five steps ahead of him.
“What are you doing?” asked Adam as Ronan stopped in the familiar parking lot by the church.
“Just a moment, I promise,” he replied, with his hand on the door handle.
“Lynch. I know you go to church to ask God for things,” Parrish said softly. “Say what you want to say just to me, without praying. Without God.”
Ronan looked surprised. He didn't think Adam had connected all the dots, and noted that behind every action there was prayer, supplication and requests for courage. On the other hand, he visited the church before every decision: before he gave Adam the hand cream and mixtape, before they started kissing on the porch of the Barns, before he decided to move for two years to an apartment near Adam's campus. At some point it stopped being a prayer and became a ritual.
Nor did he expect Adam to guess. He wasn't planning anything lavish; neither of them were the type. He just wanted to enter his church for a moment and pray. To ask for things to go his way. To ask for permission. And more courage. And then get back in the car and drive to the place that used to be called Cabeswater and kneel there. He certainly didn't plan to propose in the parking lot outside Parrish's old apartment in the BWM he stole from his father. But perhaps that suited them best.
“Adam,” his name still sounded foreign in Ronan's mouth.
“Yes, Ronan?”
“Marry me.”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
“You know very well it's a question, asshole.”
“Then ask correctly. With intonation and kneeling and everything.”
Ronan got out of the car, walked around it and knelt down. At least this time not to pray.
“Parrish,” he began, then corrected himself. “Adam. Will you marry me?”
“And where's the ring?”
“Asshole.” Ronan pulled from his pocket one of the fifteen engagement rings he dreamt. He chose the one that most resembled Adam and Cabeswater. The ring was entwined with delicate leaves that at first glance appeared to be made of silver, but on Adam's finger they moved as if in the wind and whispered to him in Latin.
“So? Can I count on an answer?”
Adam shook his head, as if chasing away thoughts of another silly answer, and held out one of the hands that Ronan worshipped on a par with his God, perhaps even more so.
“Yes, of course I do.”
Ronan slipped the ring onto Adam's finger, then kissed first his palm, then his lips. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, and turned toward St. Agnes Church. This time he thought only: thank you.