Daniel 12:10
Monday 5th November: "You called me here to take your confession, Bishop O'Malley?"
They had exchanged the usual pleasantries and Bishop Patrick O'Malley had failed, so far, to get to the point, hence Seb's question.
The formal way in which the two men addressed each other was a contrived thing, a deliberate artificiality initiated by Seb when the bishop had taken him as his confessor. He did it to distance himself and the bishop had played along.
"No, Father Sebastian. There is another matter I wish to discuss with you."
Seb looked at his bishop a moment before replying. He was unused to the reversal of their roles. He the cat. The bishop the mouse. He could almost swear the man was embarrassed. "What is it Bishop?" he asked.
Bishop Pat O'Malley decided to do away with the normal formality. "Seb. May I call you Seb?"
"Of course Bishop."
The bishop indicated that the taller man should sit in an armchair. "Seb, take a drink would you? For my sake. It would make me more comfortable."
Normally Seb avoided daytime drinking but he was no stickler. He agreed to a glass of red wine. The bishop poured himself a port cask Glenmorangie, neat.
"In a sense, given my problems, of which you are all too aware, I feel less than qualified to raise this matter with you."
Now it was Seb's turn to feel embarrassed. He cupped the glass of wine with both hands. "Please go on," he said not meaning it.
The point is that I am still your bishop. And . . ." O'Malley hesitated. He placed down his whisky and ran his fingers up through his lank black hair. "There is a matter that came to my attention." The changeover was seemless. The bishop cloaked himself in authority as simultaneously, Seb was stripped of his pretentions and left vulnerable.
Seb decided to make it easier. "You want to talk with me about Baxter Merill's wife, Angie?"
The bishop looked at the younger man, his blue eyes narrowed, the authority of his office dictating his behaviour. "Exactly Seb. An old lady of the parish mentioned that she had seen you together and . . . " Again the bishop hesitated, "Need I go further?"
Seb stiffened, then slowly he allowed himself to relax, facing the inevitable. "No Bishop. I do have a problem. I would have brought the matter to your attention soon enough had you not called for this meeting." Was that a lie he wondered? Would he have really? He shrugged the thought aside and continued. "I have grown fond of Angie," he said.
"I think, Seb, under the circumstances you may call me Patrick."
Seb hesitated for no more than a heartbeat. He looked directly at the bishop, his brown eyes unblinking. "Thank you Patrick."
Pat O'Malley sighed. "I presume this has gone further than a mere expression of kindness. Were that not the case you'd have been telling me to mind my own business by now."
Seb nodded, again embarrassed by the direction this conversation was heading. He had rehearsed the discussion in his mind but now he found himself tongue tied-like he'd been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Which of course he had.
But the bishop smiled gently. "Have you had any past difficulties of this kind?"
"Not of a serious nature."
"Forgive me if I avoid prevarication. You have never wanted to screw a woman before?"
Sebastian, despite himself, felt shocked at the Bishop's lack of circumspection. "I would not be human if I did not feel sexually frustrated occasionally."
"We all have our difficulties. How would you normally sublimate them, through confession, prayer, food, alcohol, talking it through with a friend? Or would you revert to masturbation, like many of our colleagues?"
Seb was confused. "I don't believe you can be truly celibate if you masturbate. Masturbation is a form of sexual practice, albeit crippled and unsatisfactory. As for my sexual frustrations, I try not to sublimate them Bishop."
O'Malley smiled. "Your strictures on masturbation are a little harsh. If we all adhered to them there'd be no priesthood. But to the issue at hand." The bishop chuckled. "No pun intended. When you say you try not to sublimate your sexual difficulties, You surrender to them?"
Seb's response was rapid and on the edge of panic. "No, I have tried many approaches. But usually I deal with this sort of thing through prayer."
The bishop mused. "Hmm. I find alcohol better myself. You have had sexual experiences before."
Seb was not phased by this, he knew the bishop liked shocking people out of their complacency. "Only as a young man, before I was called to be a priest."
The bishop smiled. "Everything is relative. You are young now. But pre-ordination sexuality is dangerous. Some would argue that it's kinder never to have shown the rabbit to the grayhound, if you get my drift. Have you been discontented with celibacy?"
"No. At least not before."
"And you are now?"
"I am no longer sure. They say Saint Peter was married. Paul counselled celibacy. There have always been two approaches. I am not sure we are right to take an extreme view and rule out a married priesthood."
"But you accept the diktats of Rome on these matters?"
Seb answered grimly. "Yes."
"And you have failed to live by them?"
"Yes."
"And so too I."
They stared at each other until Seb broke the silence. "I was aware of the inevitable sexual tensions but they have never been a problem until Angie."
The bishop changed tack, "Is Angie unstable?"
"She is going through a bad time. She has been abused. She has left her husband."
"And you were counselling her?"
"Yes."
"And there was a measure of transference, of dependence, on Angie's part, would you say?"
Seb wasn't angry. He had no right to be. He responded automatically. "You imply that I took advantage of her."
"Did you?"
Now at last Seb felt angry but controlled his emotion staring fixedly at the floor. The question was just. "Perhaps."
"So, did you exploit her vulnerability, or perhaps was she less innocent than she seemed, perhaps she exploited yours?"
Seb felt the tears well up and cloud his eyes. He stood and walked to the window, unable to face the bishop. "It wasn't like that," he said lamely.
But the bishop didn't relent. "And this encounter, was it trivial for you?"
"No," Seb spun round. "It may have been many things, my motives may have been seriously flawed, my behaviour atrocious, ridiculous even, but one thing it was not - it was not trivial."
"Was your reaction in this encounter involuntary? Was this something you could have controlled?"
Seb reflected a moment. "It would be easy to say no but the reality is different. We can always control our actions. Perhaps I didn't wish to."
"So you were in a state of sexual vulnerability and this woman came and took advantage of you?"
"No."
"No. I didn't think so either. So you are completely responsible. You exploited a vulnerable woman?"
"No, I honestly believe that's absurd. Though it may seem that way."
"It more than seems that way, unless, that is, you are in love with her."
Seb failed to respond.
"So you are in love with her?"
Seb remained silent but nodded his head. He lacked confidence. The bishop waited and eventually Seb replied.
"I am not quite sure of my motives; not quite sure where desire ends and love begins. I guess it's like the chicken with the egg. I'm not sure which came first. But now there is true love on my part. Whether that means being in love like in the chick-flicks is another matter. I ache for her when she's not around. In what degree that's loneliness, love or mere sexual frustration, I find it hard to distinguish. All three I suppose."
"So," the bishop sipped his drink, his long-fingered hands caressing the glass. "Would you like to tell me about it? From the beginning if you could."
Father Sebastian looked at O'Malley. Not the confidant he would choose for himself, this wounded man, his bishop. But perhaps in some way he was empowering the bishop by opening up before him, restoring this broken prelate, healing him. It was a gift Sebastian could offer. And in all conscience he owed this man honesty. He was still his bishop after all.
And Seb, falteringly, like a schoolboy reporting to his master, told the bishop everything.
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