After I dropped Enrico to his room I went looking for coffee. I was saddened by the news that he was leaving the seminary. He was an ally and I didn’t want to lose him. But then I was consoled by the fact that I too was planning to leave. I had taken the entrance exams to transfer to a seminary in Manila, but I didn’t know yet if I would be accepted. The seminary I was going to transfer to was more understanding and tolerant of gay students as long as they remain chastely celibate.
I couldn’t find coffee. I ran out of supply. It was a Saturday most seminarians were either out of campus or were studying for the remaining exams.
It was late afternoon. I fell asleep for the rest of the day. When I woke up it was dark. I went to check on Enrico. His room was dark. No light coming out from under the door. I didn’t bother knocking. I walked back to my dorm. Most of the seminarians were already in bed or still out of the campus. I decided to see Lawrence. He was getting ready for bed when I knocked at his door. In fact, his lights were already turned off. He graciously let me in. He sensed that I was bothered by something because I kept on looking at my back when I got in. I even walked to his window and looked outside if there was no one listening to our conversation although the dorm was dead, quiet. I also asked him if Arnold, whose room was beside his was already asleep. Lawrence said he probably was because his music was turned off and he didn’t hear any sound coming from Arnold’s room.
“What’s going on?” he asked me.
I took a deep breath. Look him in the eye and said, “I want to start by apologizing that I haven’t returned your money.”
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t need it right now,” he said.
I asked him to keep to himself what I was about to tell him. He agreed. I knew that it would not be a secret. Lawrence had other friends he usually shared his secrets, but I badly needed someone to talk to.
He sat on his bed while I took his chair. He turned off the light in his room and lit his table lamp. I was still debating whether to tell him but I heard myself saying after all my reluctance, “The money that I borrowed from you, that wasn’t for me.”
He looked puzzled.
“You borrowed it for somebody else?” he asked.
“I borrowed it for Brian,” I said. “He was shy to ask you. So I did.”
“So what’s the problem?”
I told Lawrence that Brian needed the money to pay for a debt and that he would return it as soon as he got paid at the end of the month.
“That’s not a big deal,” Lawrence said.
“It kinda is,” I said. “He used the money to go to you-know-where …”
“He did not,” he said as his eyes widened.
“Yeah, I learned about it later.”
It wasn’t surprising that Lawrence would catch what I meant when I said you-know-where. Everyone knew what that place was. Lawrence was quiet for a while. I wasn’t sure if he was shocked about what I told him because Peping had mentioned to me one time, it was Lawrence, who told him about Brian’s escapades with other seminarians. We heard footsteps coming from the hallway. They immediately died down and then we heard a door opened followed by a brief whispered conversation. The door went shut. Then, we heard someone knocking at Lawrence’s door and in whisper called his name. We both stared at the door knob. Lawrence didn’t respond to the call. The voice then stopped and we heard footsteps walking away. Lawrence got up to check out if he could see from his window who was walking away from the building. He couldn’t make out because it was dark. We didn’t think about it too much and went back to our conversation.
“That’s why I was really disgusted. I felt I was used. I lent him my own money as well and he hasn’t paid me,” I told Lawrence.
“This can’t happen. This shouldn’t happen,” he said. “You have to tell the priests.”
“Tell them what? Do you think I should?”
“Who else do you think should?”
“A lot of the guys knew about this.”
I paused.
“But Brian is involved,” I heard myself saying.
At that time, I couldn’t do anything that would harm Brian. I couldn’t do anything that would make him hate me forever. I was too afraid he’d totally be out of my life if I blow his cover and tell the priests what he and other seminarians had been up to. It was impossible for me to cross him because that meant kissing goodbye whatever strand of friendship was left between us. That’s why I went to Lawrence. I was hoping he’d tell one of the priests, who happened to be his close friend. I was hoping he’d do for me what I wanted to do but couldn’t.
“Can’t you tell Father Rogelio?” I asked Lawrence.
He didn’t respond. He just sat there looking at me. He crossed his arms and looked away, as if avoiding what I just asked him. He got up from his bed and walked towards the window. I waited for his response. He smiled wryly.
“I don’t want to get involved,” he said.
“But you think the priests should know about this.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to take the chance.”
“Would you think about it?”
“I can tell Father Rogelio you want to talk with him about something.”
I agreed although I was torn. There were two Father Rogelios at the seminary. One was the rector whom we called Father Roger and the other whom we called Father Rogelio was the pastoral director. He was Lawrence’s friend and spiritual director. He and Lawrence became friends because they were both late vocations, meaning they went to priestly training after they did something else.
The following Monday, Father Rogelio asked if I wanted to meet with him in his office after lunch.
I felt awkward about it. I hesitantly said yes. I wasn’t expecting that Lawrence would tell him right away. I wasn’t prepared what exactly I would tell him, but he was obviously interested to know what I had to say. I proceeded to the refectory after we agreed to meet after lunch, before his first class in the afternoon. At lunch, I couldn’t eat. Not because of the greasy food we normally get. I was too preoccupied thinking what I was going to tell Father Rogelio when I meet him. I agreed to meet with him as a spiritual director, which meant he couldn’t repeat to anyone what I was going to tell him. Anything that was told to a priest in the context of spiritual direction, although he wasn’t my spiritual director, was supposed to be treated as confidential and bound by the seal of confession. That was the assurance I had. If he broke the seal and I complained he could lose his faculty to hear confessions. What I didn’t know was that there was a way around it.
Normally, after lunch the seminary was quiet. Most seminarians and priests took their afternoon siesta, while others went to their ministries outside the seminary. That day was no exemption. I didn’t have ministry that day and I didn’t have an afternoon class either. I was still unsure what to tell Father Rogelio when I walked to the lobby of his dormitory after I briefly stopped at the chapel to pray for guidance. Lawrence and Father Rogelio were sitting at the lobby of the building when I got there. Larry left after telling me “It’s gonna be fine.”
I gave him a forced smile. I wasn’t ready, but I was there already.
Just when Lawrence was walking out of the building, Father Rogelio told him to please remind Gerome that his spiritual direction at three was cancelled and he’d re-schedule it.
That was enough to fuel me. I was that angry at Gerome. Simply hearing his name in any context made my blood boil. If I could, I wanted to rip his face off. Hearing his name was enough to make me forget that I was about to tell on Brian, that I was about to ruin his dream of becoming a priest.
Father Rogelio’s office looked like a life-sized terrarium. There were plants everywhere – ivy, ficus, roses on pots and other kinds of house plants. They were on top of book shelves, in between books, on the table, under a chair, just about every space available had a plant sitting on it. The office didn’t smell of a garden however. For some strange reason it smelled of earth, decaying earth. I also noticed he had a tray of ripe mangoes on his desk. But the strong sweet smell of that fruit was no match with the odour of something rotting in his office.
“So, I heard you have something important to tell me?” Father Rogelio said as he grabbed a chair. I was already seated, but I was still debating whether I was doing the right thing. I wanted to tell him that I actually had nothing to say, that Lawrence was mistaken and had misunderstood me. Or that I changed my mind. I would have to explain of course and I wasn’t prepared for either. I clasped my hand as if I was going to pray. I rested my elbows on my thighs and lowered my chin until it met my clasped hands. I stared at the shiny floor and took a deep breath. I lowered my head further until my forehead rested on my hands.
“Listen, if you’re not ready,” Father Rogelio said.
Yes, I wasn’t ready. My mind was going back to the day that I wrote about the infirmarian case at Mount St. Charles several years ago. I was terrified I would be ostracized again if seminarians learned it was me again. Would I hear homilies about gossiping again? Telling Father Rogelio what I knew was putting myself in a very vulnerable position once again. But then I heard Gerome’s name. That was enough to gave me a raging courage.
Jealousy was enough to fuel me.
“Before I say anything, I want to be clear that this is a spiritual direction,” I told Father Rogelio.
“That’s my understanding. I can’t repeat any of this to anyone.”
I wanted that seal of confession to be out there. Deep down I didn’t want Brian to be harshly punished. But I wanted to teach him a lesson.
“It’s about some seminarians visiting the “casa” nearby,” I finally said. “And about cellphones.”
“The priests had been hearing about both of these,” he said. “What do you know?”
I didn’t need more coaxing. I spilled everything I knew and Father Rogelio listened like he was hearing the stories for the first time, although he told me the priests already knew.
