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“I think… I think I’ve made up my mind, then,” you say, looking between Cardinal Copia and Papa Terzo. “I’m not going to try to join the Clergy this year. Maybe at all.” The Cardinal nods, and smiles at you encouragingly.
“Like we said, you can always change your mind and begin the process again in the future,” he says. “If you don’t feel ready now, there’s always another year, eh?”
“But it’s alright if you never do,” Terzo says. “Every Sibling’s contribution is valuable.”
“This is very true,” Copia says. “Your presence here is enough.”
“Thank you,” you respond quietly. “I appreciate your help – both of you.”
“Of course, caro,” Terzo says.
You know you made the right decision. As much as Primo wants fresh blood in the Clergy, it wouldn’t be fair on you or on anyone else if you pushed yourself into it before you were ready, especially if you were no longer sure you wanted to at all. Both Terzo and Copia had been in agreement, and it was the advice Ryan and Ben had given you when you discussed it with them. Copia offered to let Primo know your decision so that you didn’t have to face his disappointment, and realistically it’s a relief to have the topic off your plate.
Even so, it feels strange to give up on a goal you had been working towards. It feels strange to admit that you’re not ready. When you tell your friends over dinner that evening, they reassure you that you can always change your mind, that you should do what you feel is best for yourself now, that really not joining the Clergy is better because it means you won’t have to interact with Sister so much and anyway isn’t Primo kind of creepy? They accept your request to change the subject, and move on to the usual gossip.
You find yourself zoning out during Mass, Terzo’s sermon mere background noise for your own thoughts. Your friends aren’t around, and neither is Omega, but you recognise Aether across the chapel and smile briefly when he nods at you. Your eyes mostly remain on the backs of the heads of the people in the front rows: Sister, Nihil (well enough to attend today, with his oxygen tank), Primo, Secondo slouched with his chin on his fist, a few Cardinals and, behind them, some senior Siblings of Sin, sat straight up to attention. They’re a few months away from rising to the first of the named ranks – within years they could be Cardinals themselves, or else take on other important roles within the Ministry. When you first joined, you had wanted that kind of prestige. You imagined how good it would feel to be ordained into the Clergy, to stand tall in front of the congregation as your name is called and your new title is bestowed upon you with more pomp than the fanciest graduation ceremony, your intelligence and dedication and hard work undeniable. Your worthiness confirmed in front of everyone.
Terzo’s office hours are usually busy, his dedication to the pastoral aspects of his role well appreciated by the Siblings. You join the small group standing around outside of his office. A few of them chat animatedly; two of them sit on the floor slumped against the wall, one on their phone and the other staring into space, biting their lip anxiously. You give what you hope is a friendly smile, and they smile back nervously. You knew to expect a queue, so you brought a book. When the door to Terzo’s office opens and a pair of Brothers leaves, the chatty group all enter together, and the corridor is quiet. By the time everyone who arrived before you has finished their conversations with Terzo, you’re so thoroughly absorbed in Terry Pratchett’s Monstrous Regiment that you don’t even notice you’re alone in the hallway until Terzo has walked right up to you.
“You wanted to speak to me, caro?” he says, and you startle just slightly. “Or did you just decide this corridor was a comfortable place to read?” You laugh, and follow him into his office. He gestures to one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace and you both sit down. He looks at you expectantly.
“I… I guess I’ve been thinking about the Clergy, again,” you start. “I don’t think I regret my decision, logically, but…” You trail off, realizing that you don’t actually know what you wanted to say. “Sorry, I… I don’t know.”
“It’s alright,” Terzo says. “We can talk about it all some more, if you want.”
“I don’t want to waste your time.”
“Office hours are for talking, it’s literally what I’m here for.” Terzo smiles. “And if anyone else wants to talk to me, they’ll knock – so, until that happens, I’m all yours, si? And if someone does knock, if they’re not bleeding or, ah, hyperventilating, then you’re the priority, because you got here first. That’s how office hours work,” he says firmly. “Just tell me whatever is on your mind.” You take a deep breath.
“I guess… I know that I’m not ready to join. I know that I don’t really want to do what being in the Clergy involves. I know… I know I have plenty of time if I decide later that I do want to. But I feel like… fuck, this sounds horrible when I say it out loud.”
“Whatever it is, I’ve heard worse.”
“I feel like I’m just… a nobody. I was somebody – I was doing all the ritual studies and theology classes, I was on track to becoming someone – someone with a title and a – an important role, you know? And now I’m just like any other Sibling.” You sigh. “See? It’s horrible. Why should I denigrate the rest of the Siblings by saying I don’t want to be like them?” Terzo is silent for a moment.
“A title is a blessing and a curse,” he says quietly. “I mean… I love being Papa. Of course I do – I get to travel the world, perform for people, make people happy, si? And when I’m in the Ministry, I get to help people here – comfort people who are grieving, provide counsel, listen to people’s concerns. It is… I have always been ambitious – I’ve always… seen problems, and wanted to solve them. As Papa, I get to. I know of a few Cardinals with similar feelings, although… well, we are all different. That is the blessing, si? I get to do these things. But I do not have as much power as people… as people seem to assume. I think you know this – I think Siblings here know that Sister has far more power over the Ministry than I do, and the Ghouls, unfortunately, know it even more, ah, viscerally. I am… bitter, sometimes, I suppose. I can have a sold-out concert hall laughing and singing along and I can influence them, in good ways – make them love themselves more, give them hope – but I can’t persuade my own – I mean, I cannot persuade Sister of certain things that I feel are important. The way the Ghouls are treated… well, I am working on it. She has her reasons, but… anyway. You see my point, si?”
“I… I think so,” you say.
“My own title makes me… someone, si? And yet, I don’t have full control over who that someone is. I am given power, but I am also shackled.”
“Yeah.”
“This… isn’t helping, is it?” Terzo grimaces.
“Um…”
“Scusa, caro, I got carried away. Let me, ah, change tack. What do you think it would mean if you were in the Clergy? You would be someone, but what kind of someone?”
“I’d be seen as intelligent and dedicated and… and competent.”
“You think you are not those things now?”
“I… maybe? I know I’m not stupid. But being ordained would prove it.”
“Right… do you feel people do not see those things in you? Have people been telling you that you are not?”
“No! I mean… Sister has made some comments. But other people – I don’t know, I’m just not as clever as Ryan, I guess, and I’m not… I feel like I’m… urgh, I’m sorry.” Your hands flap a little in frustration, and you quickly stifle the movement.
“Sister is harsh,” Terzo nods. “And it is true that Brother Ryan is gifted. But… forgive me, caro, but I think perhaps that is not the point? You are upset about something more… more sensitive than merely being seen as clever, si? Because you know you are intelligent and you know that your friends know you are…”
“It’s hard to find the words,” you say, “and it sounds stupid.”
“You’ve hesitated to tell me many things, caro, and so far none of them have been ‘stupid’. I don’t think this will be, either.”
“I feel like…” you look down at your hands, fiddling with the edges of your sleeves. “I feel like I’ll be seen as more… grown up. Less like… an emotional teenager. Less like a child.”
“Ah, I see,” Terzo says slowly. You glance up and see he’s looking at you carefully, eyes searching your face.
“I don’t… you’ve seen me when I’m… not acting … like an adult.” You wince.
“Si,” Terzo smiles. “When you’re, ah, small. But that’s not all the time.”
“No! Exactly! But… if I’m like that at all, then… well, once you’ve seen me like that, then how can you ever take me seriously?”
“I can take you seriously because I know you to be an intelligent, capable adult. Even when you’re small, and sleepy, and sweet, you are a capable adult underneath, si? I know this. Everyone, no matter how grown up, has their times when they are vulnerable and need to be taken care of. I don’t forget, when you are small, what you are like when you are not.”
“You’ve seen me… after I … after I hurt myself.”
“Yes,” Terzo sighs heavily. “If that makes you unfit to be taken seriously, then I and many others should also be dismissed out of hand. I know you don’t believe that about us.”
“Of course not,” you say. “I… I take your point. I just…”
“It is hard to feel, I know.”
“I just wanted… I wanted to prove myself.”
“You have nothing to prove,” Terzo says seriously. “Whatever you were told before you came here, you have nothing to prove to anyone. You are a kind person, you are a friend to other Siblings, you contribute to Ministry life in ways you are probably unaware of. You are clearly intelligent and a rational thinker, which is a valuable skill. You are self-aware, and introspective. And… well, I happen to greatly enjoy your company, which may not count for much, but it is true, so I will say so. I like to spend time with you.”
“I… thank you.” You can feel yourself blushing slightly.
“There are many ways you can use your skills within the Ministry, and we can talk about them if you want – tutoring, outreach, peer support, all kinds of things, si? But even if you do none of those things, you are still worthy. You understand this, yes?”
You nod, too overwhelmed to speak. Terzo reaches out his hand and places it over yours.
“Caro…” he says. “I am fond of you. It breaks my heart to think that you… that you don’t see yourself as worthy, just as you are.”