Chapter Text
My Lord, my deepest yearning is before you;
my groaning is not hidden from you.
-Psalm 38:10
October 1986
O, my Lord, please guide me.
Thomas thinks for a moment: Guide where?
I crave companionship for this life I have chosen. But I have bestowed myself upon you and for you, only you. May greed and lust never enter the chambers of my mind. And my heart. May it disperse so that I may devote myself to your name, my God, my savior.
Amen.
Thomas closed the bible in hand slowly, he could feel his knees aching from kneeling by his bedside; in prayer for so long, he wasn’t sure what time it was anymore. As far as he could see, the sun had risen behind the blinds of his assigned room in the Casa Santa Marta. There was no point anymore, he told himself, to go back to bed. In the same way, there was no point in having desires in a life he willingly chose and knew the conditions of.
A recurring feeling that would not leave him these days.
Thomas knew what it was like to desire and be desired by women and by men. A normal human emotion, he often thinks. Some approached him and sought more than his company, more than what they could offer to themselves. Some had approached him to tell secrets that he had to keep because it was bounded by the 4 walls of the confessional. No, he scolds himself. Whether he had been ordained or not, whether it was through the screen in a confessional, he would have never told a soul either way. He knew how to keep his lips sealed.
His phone's alarm goes off as he reaches over the bedside table to shut it off. 6:00, it reads on the screen. The archbishops would gather by 7 at the dining hall before meeting with Pope Leo XIII. Something to do with policies and guidelines and responsibilities as the archbishop of their respective diocese. They had this meeting every quarter, and as much as Thomas wanted to keep his authority in check and listen in to their meetings, they were starting to drag on longer than they should.
Besides, he dreaded having to interact with the other archbishops. Nosy, almost no-good men that had been elevated to their position by God’s miracle. He wonders how the pope saw it fit that these men were to be promoted and assigned to their diocese – there was almost nothing good that came out of their mouths – the way his mother would always say: If you have nothing good to say, keep it to yourself. There were a few that he could count by hand that were, namely, worthy to converse with. Archbishop Bellini of Sacramento, a long-time friend, had been one of the few.
With a sigh, he dragged himself up to the bathroom. The mirror revealed a few remnants of his sleepless nights, the eyebags under his eyes more visible than when he had first accepted the duty. The lines on his face, he had wished instead, were not smile lines. 45, and you’re already this stressed? He almost laughs at himself, at the image of himself in the mirror. It wasn’t stress that he was worried about these days. Thomas wore his pectoral cross, clutching on to it until he could feel the corners of it digging into the palm of his hand.
“Guide me, Lord.” He mutters to himself. May he guide him through the day, the weekend rather. To control his urges, his carnal desires, his wants. To keep him at bay.
May he never feel alone for as long as the Lord is by his side.
When he walks out the door, he nearly bumps into Archbishop Abalos.
“Good morning, Thomas.” The older man greets him. His appearance is a mess, he notices first. Not that he had been thinking and tossing and turning in bed like Thomas was, but signs of a man who was close to letting go of his faith. There was no shame in that, he tells himself and to others that come to him for confession, but it was the way he makes it obvious that faith is slipping him – falling into temptation, carnal desires of man. How and what made him fall into temptation was what he had judged him for.
Disgusting.
“Good morning, Archbishop Abalos. I prefer it if you would call me by my last name instead.” Thomas tries to put it as kindly as he can.
“Something bothering you this morning? You have a bite to your words. Want someone to help you with that?” His laugh is booming throughout the hallway they stand in. Whoever was getting ready that morning would be able to hear it all the way from the ground floor of the building. He puts an arm around Thomas, and Abalos shakes him. The implication in his words made him more uncomfortable than he already was.
They start walking. He could smell the breath of alcohol from him.
2 days. Just 2 days. Thomas repeatedly told himself. For as long as the archbishops were quick and did their duties efficiently and in an orderly manner, he would be able to go back to England, to his diocese, to his apartment. God forbid they extend, may God forbid it.
They enter the elevator.
“Any secrets you wish to share with me, Thomas?” Abalos tries to fill the silence in the elevator. His smile told him that there would be nothing good he would have done with his secrets if he had any.
“Nothing worth sharing, I believe.”
“Oh, come on now… A young man such as yourself should have some, no?” He breathes down his neck, and Thomas isn’t sure if he would be able to live through those two days with men like him. It sickened him a bit.
“I’m a young man of faith, that is. All my secrets are between me and the Lord.”
Thomas heard him tsked. His grip on him tightened. The elevator was taking its time going down. “So, what then, what would you be doing if you weren’t a man of faith? ”
Thomas forcefully removed his arm around his shoulders, fixing his vestments, patting it down, almost as if trying to sway any scent or fragment of Archbishop Abalos off him – that he was anywhere near him. As much as he wanted to suck it up and let the day pass by, no matter how slowly, he didn’t want to talk with Abalos any more than formal greetings.
A smirk appeared on the older man’s lips. He was shorter, but he still held years more experience and authority compared to Thomas, who had been promoted just a few years ago. The way he looked at him told Thomas that he didn’t take him seriously; he seldom did. Abalos approaches him, the smirk still on his face as he nods to him, pointing a finger at him. He chuckles at him, and that annoys Thomas.
“You’ve got a spine. I’ll give you that, Archbishop Lawrence.” Thomas couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “But you’re young. Still an archbishop, just elevated recently.” He needn’t point out the obvious to him. “But the longer you stay here, the more the loneliness gets you. Do you understand that?”
The elevator door dinged open as he didn’t want to entertain Abalos anymore. He stepped past the older man and towards the dining hall.
Loneliness? There was such a thing as friends and acquaintances. If Abalos had minded his attitude and his vices, perhaps he would have found himself some. There was no reason for Thomas to feel lonely. He didn’t feel lonely, anyhow. This wasn’t a path of loneliness. The nerve of that man to talk about such topics with him. Shouldn’t he be more of a role model?
The dining hall was filling up as he entered. Archbishops are gathering around their tables, he spots Aldo immediately, seated at the aisle seat of the room just off the left of the dining hall. Thomas takes the seat in front of him. How he did it must have suggested something,
“Did something happen?” Aldo asks immediately.
He looks up at his friend as he pats down his vestments again. “No… nothing of importance, I think.” His friend only squints at him as he takes the liberty to look around. Thomas, following where his eyes led him, spotted his “companion” in the elevator a few seconds ago. The look on his face was unpleasant.
“Did you piss him off?” Aldo turns back to him Thomas only clenches his jaw.
“In any case, Aldo, I believe he was the one who pissed me off.” Thomas makes a move closer, trying to avoid any lingering ears and eyes who could eavesdrop. “He’s not well. And I don’t mean the fact that he has been drinking, he has been drinking heavily, I might add, but the fact that he made certain implications to me. He disgusts me.” He plays with the napkin that sat on his plate. His friend shared the same look of discomfort he had a few minutes ago.
“You do know he’ll sit with us, right?”
“Don’t say that. That’s-” Thomas couldn’t get any more words out as more of his companions and clergymen arrived at their table. They both offer them a smile as Thomas shares a glance with Aldo when Abalos takes the far end of the table, seemingly finding new companions to talk with for the morning.
It can’t get worse, can it? Thomas hopes, asks himself. Now, he did have to suck it up to get through the weekend. It wasn’t like he could leave in the middle of everything just because of one archbishop who had gotten on his nerves. The word loneliness echoed in his head.
“My brothers, let us stand as we bless this food.” They stand and make the sign of the cross. He looks over at the front, he doesn’t recognize the archbishop that stands before them as he says the prayer before meals and additional blessings and prayers that were also of importance to them. He must be new, he thinks to himself. They almost always did that – whenever a new archbishop arrived, they would have them pray the first prayer before meals.
“Amen.” They all say as the sound of chairs scraping and men talking filled the room.
The Company of the Daughters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul would be the one to accompany them this weekend. Thomas makes it a habit to know which order was with them but still makes it a point to avoid women as much as possible. One of the habits he developed back when he was in the seminary. Second to crossing his arms over his chest while he sleeps.
It wasn’t like he could avoid them entirely. Thomas was careful to still treat them with the same amount of respect as they showed them whilst in their care.
“Are you doing all right?” His friend asks.
“I’m all right, Aldo. Thank you.” A white lie. It wouldn’t have hurt his dear friend either way. “Did you sleep well?”
“Oh.” He scoffs at that. Thomas smiles amusingly. “I think I’ve had better nights.” Thomas only nods as Archbishop Pimentel, the man seated beside his friend, engages with him in another conversation. Aldo had always been more courteous and more outgoing than Thomas; everywhere he went, he was still able to make conversation. It was something he didn’t want to admit to himself, but it was a quality of Aldo that he envied sometimes.
Thomas catches himself at that.
He had just prayed this morning for guidance in that regard.
A sister comes over, he sees the way her hand reaches for his glass so she could pour water in it.
Thomas looks up at her, “Thank you, Sister-” He pauses when he catches her eyes, mouth agape. They were a strong, deep blue, he noted, unconsciously at that. Kindness beyond anyone he has ever seen, but it was held with great dignity and authority in them. For some reason, Thomas didn’t want to look away. She offers him a smile and a nod as she leaves his side to go around the table to fill their glasses, and he follows her movement for a bit before looking at another table. He gulps and curses himself.
From the corner of his eyes, he saw her walking back to the kitchens.
Thomas keeps it to himself as he tries to pick up his spoon, picking on the food that was on his plate. The interaction with Abalos from earlier hadn’t left them, and he wasn’t too sure if it was going to leave him any time soon. His stomach felt empty, but he didn’t feel hungry. He takes a bite anyway.
“A pretty thing, isn’t she?” He heard someone say. A terrible conversation starter, he doesn’t want to engage.
“A Shame.” A shame? Thomas almost asks out loud out of irritation. “She shouldn’t be here all covered up like that. Should serve men a different way.” He looked over to the other end of the table to see who was speaking. It wasn’t Abalos, but there was still a grin on his lips that told them he agreed with the other archbishop’s sentiments. “I doubt she’s a-”
A drop of a spoon clatters on the ground, and he sees the looks they give him. Aldo looks up at him, but he doesn’t make a point to stop him from what he’s doing. Thomas looks over to them, “I do wish that as men of faith, you do better to watch your tongue and respect the sisters that serve us.”
One of them chuckles at that. “What? Just because you share eye contact with one, suddenly you’re all for them?” His friend isn’t given a chance to interject.
“Do remember that it was women that were the ones who were left kneeling at the cross of Jesus of Nazareth when he was crucified to die for our unforgiveable sins.” Their smiles fade away from their faces, he fights a satisfied smile at that. “You lot disgust me.” He said this before dropping his table napkin on his seat and made his way out from the dining hall.
The nerve of some people.
There were many women there, looking on from a distance, who had followed Jesus from Galilee, ministering to him. Among them were Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.
–Matthew 27:55-56
Thomas thinks back to the verses. It was one of the things that had stuck with him while studying Theology at college. There was no reason for them, the men who supposedly spread the word of God, to be so full of themselves when the men back then had left in such a hurry out of fear. He breathes for a moment. There’s someone who was owed an apology, and he was sure the men back at that table wouldn’t offer one. He just wasn’t too sure how or when he would be able to give that apology.
The longer he stared out of one of the balconies of the Vatican, the more he got angry at the conversation that had happened a few minutes ago. He decided that it was best to wait it out instead of going back inside the dining hall. He sat out in the courtyard. The silence gave him comfort.
Lord, help me. Thomas thinks silently, fiddling with his pectoral cross again. Help me.
There was only so much he could ask.
A part of him wonders if it had been right that he spoke.
Of course, it was. A feeble attempt to reassure himself of the stir he had caused back there. The weekend would drag on more than he had hoped it would, and not only that, he would have been talked about amongst his peers. If he could even call them that. Most of them he didn’t consider, not that they would have cared.
There was a loud voice coming from upstairs and some doors banging open. He couldn’t make out the words they were saying, but he caught “Canterbury” and “Lawrence” in some of the sentences. He already knew it was about him. That also gave him the sign that he could go back to the dining hall and look for the sister that had poured their glasses earlier. The footsteps diminished as he slowly made his way back to the dining hall.
He catches the head nun of the Daughters of Charity inside the hall.
“Yes, Your Excellency, what may I do for you?” Thomas hesitated for a moment.
“Uh… Good morning, Sister Madeline. I was hoping I might have a word with… the nun who was serving our table this morning?” She gave him a curious look, a protective one at that, and he couldn’t blame her for staring him down like that.
“Is it of importance? I’m sure I can deliver the message.” He considered it.
“I think it’s… best I talk with her myself.” Thomas could see the way she clenched her jaw at that. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t relent at his request.
“I’ll go get her, Your Excellency. Please wait a moment.” Sister Madeline bows before him as she makes her way back to the back. He waits nervously in the middle of the hall. There was a meeting he needed to attend, and he had forgotten all about it. They could do without him for now, he had hoped, it was with the pope, he scolds himself at that.
Things were taking a turn during this visit.
“Archbishop Lawrence, what may I do for you?” Thomas looked up from the floor to be greeted by the same deep blue eyes he saw earlier. He wonders if there is a name for that specific color.
“I… uh… Good morning, Sister…”
“Sister Agnes.”
“Good day, Sister Agnes.” He racked his brain for words to say. “About uh… no, uhm… I just wanted to say thank you.” Agnes raises a brow at that. She still hasn’t offered him a smile, not that he expected her to. “Thank you for your service. That’s… that’s all.” Thomas tries to smile. The way she gazed at him made him nervous, he didn’t have anything to fidget with.
“You’re welcome, Your Excellency.” She bows before him. “But I do hope you know you are finding your companion in the wrong person.” The sharpness in her voice surprised him. What did she mean by that? “We are also servants of the Lord.” Thomas looked at her, confused. He furrowed his brows.
“I’m… Sorry? I don’t quite understand what you mean.”
“I have been here before, Your Excellency. Many men from the church come looking for the ‘company’ of our sisters. We are not a brothel.” The choice of words had shocked him. How she would so easily insinuate such a thing from him made him annoyed; no, it somewhat irritated him. He bit his tongue, holding back the urge to make a snappy response at that. The look on Sister Agnes’s face didn’t falter. She only bowed before him and left to go to the back again, leaving his sight.
Thomas let out a long sigh. He’s the one at fault this time.
Amongst the events that had happened today, he couldn’t help but think back to the way Sister Agnes implied that there indeed has been clergymen to approach the Daughters of Charity. It sickened him; he felt it at the pit of his stomach, and he could only think of how worse the sisters felt
The day hadn’t been so kind to Thomas Lawrence. The look Pope Leo XIII gave him as he entered the meeting room that morning sent a shiver down his spine. Of all the archbishops, he could read on his face it was the Archbishop of Canterbury who came in late. A part of him wanted to explain why, but 1) it wasn’t the right moment, and 2) the heavy tension in the air could be cut with a knife. He didn’t know what they had told the other archbishops, and frankly, he couldn't have cared less.
Aldo only offered him a smile when he sat down with him in the room. They would talk about it another time.
The meeting turned out to be a drag after all, as he had predicted, and had hoped he was wrong about. There was more to talk about tomorrow.
Thomas bid his goodbye to Aldo as he closed the door to his room, still holding on to the handle. He held his breath, listening for more footsteps and doors opening and closing, the sign that his peers would be turning in for the night. He just wanted to take a quick walk around the Vatican. Anywhere but the confinements of his room, anywhere but here. He made sure to take note of the time before leaving.
The hallways were silent, save for the sound of his light footsteps wandering around the Casa Santa Marta. Where he was going, it didn’t matter, he would need to find company in something else besides his own and his bed.
These days, he didn’t like being alone.
Help me, Lord. He asks again. The sentence was getting tiresome, he wondered if God had gotten sick yet from hearing the same plea from him over and over again. The higher being had been the only one he talked to for these last few years. Please.
Thomas was only greeted by the wind as he stood outside in the courtyard again.
He heard the strain of a footstep behind him. He turned around quickly, in fear that he would get in trouble for being out beyond curfew.
It was Sister Agnes who had caught him. She was about to go back inside.
“Sister… Sister Agnes.” Thomas attempts to at least greet. His eyes widened at the sudden figure in his presence. He hadn’t been expecting anyone, much less her. They didn’t get off on the right foot.
“Your Excellency, good evening.” She straightened her posture at the acknowledgement of her presence. The demeanor she showed this morning had suddenly faltered. “I’m… I was just getting a breath of air, if you don’t mind.” He understood her nervousness.
“No need to explain yourself, Sister Agnes. I shouldn’t be here, as well.” Despite her nerves, he could tell there was still a reluctance to be in his presence. Of all people, it was the one she spat venom at that morning. “I should let you know that I didn’t quite like your assumption of me this morning.”
“Is it because I’m right?” The answer made him tilt his head at that, she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Your Excellency.”
“I understand.”
“What do you understand?”
“I’ll be frank with you, Sister Agnes. I do not, especially with the fact that I am a man, a man from the catholic church, no less.” Thomas could only hope his words were coming out right. “But I truly only wished to thank you for your service this morning, well, the Daughters of Charity as a whole. I deeply apologize for the experiences you Sisters have felt in our clergy.”
Sister Agnes only stared at him. He couldn’t read her.
“I know my apologies on their behalf aren’t nearly enough, but I have no ill intentions for anything that I have done and am doing.”
A beat passes.
“Were you the one who had caused the stir in the dining hall this morning?” Like a deer caught in headlights, he stiffens at that. He nods.
“Yes.”
“Mhm.” Mhm? Thomas couldn’t read her at all. “I owe you an apology, Your Excellency. I have misjudged you.”
“There is no need for apologies, Sister Agnes. It was a valid reaction.”
“Thank you, then. For defending my honor.” Thomas saw the way she offered him a smile. Not the same one from this morning, the one that had been used out of courtesy for archbishops and the like. It was a genuine one, that he could tell. It warmed him a bit at that. He smiled at her. “I’ll leave you now, Your Excellency.”
“Wait-” The word had slipped out before he could stop. Sister Agnes only looks curiously at him. “Uh, never mind. Sorry. It’s good to get fresh air, Sister Agnes. I don’t mind if you stay. Or I can be the one to leave.” He curses himself in his head. The words had spouted out before he could think of an even more plausible explanation for stopping her. She thinks about it for a moment.
“If you don’t mind, Archbishop Lawrence, I think I’d like to stay for a bit.” His mouth is agape. The response hadn’t been the one he expected. Thomas only nods.
Sister Agnes walks past him as she sits on the bench he had sat on earlier. The space beside her indicated to him that she wouldn’t have minded if he took the seat beside her.
Despite a part of him saying he shouldn’t be out so late, even more so out so late alone with one of the Sisters, he takes the seat anyway, giving them enough space.
They stayed there. Thomas only steals a few nervous glances at her.
For the first time in a while, he felt the silence hadn’t been so uncomfortable to bear.