and
unaccommodating.’
‘ Exactly.’
‘ But isn’t that going too
far, being too black and white about it?’ I said, remembering Mum’s
comment some years ago when I tried arguing that I could be a
murderer in good conscience.
‘ How far is too far?’ Chris
asked. ‘Religion’s
about black and white. There are no shades
of grey when it comes to religious beliefs. It’s all one thing or
another. That’s why there’ve been so many wars fought in the name
of religion. That’s why people are still being blown up, shot at,
persecuted today.’
‘ That’s true, sometimes,’ I
said, thinking Dad’s Northern Ireland was a classic
example.
‘ So that’s why I asked . .
.’ Chris hesitated. ‘That’s why I asked the other day if you were a
Catholic,’ he said.
‘ Because you were sacred I
was a religious fanatic and might try to blow you up, shoot you and
persecute you?’ I said. I couldn’t help being sarcastic. ‘Get real
man.’
‘ That wasn’t the reason,’
he said. ‘It’s because if you were, I needed to think if it would
be a good thing to, you know, get involved.’
‘ That was pretty
calculating,’ I said, after a few moments’ silence. ‘You told me it
wouldn’t have mattered.’
‘ No it wouldn’t have. At
least, I don’t think it would.’
‘ For all I knew you might
have been a serial rapist,’ I said. ‘Maybe I should have asked if
you were.’
‘ Fair enough,’ said Chris.
‘It does sound calculating.’
‘ It is.’
‘ I guess I just didn’t want
to take a risk and have it all come unstuck afterwards.’
‘ Why would it?’
‘ Well, you know, Catholics
have to toe the party line. They’re not supposed to go out with
anyone unless it’s another Catholic . . .
‘ What a load of bullshit,’
I said. ‘One or two
things have changed since the Middle Ages,
you know.’
‘ So you do know something
about it?’ Chris asked.
‘ Ah, that was a sneaky way
of finding out.’
Chris didn’t deny it but I couldn’t be
bothered telling him off anymore.
‘ OK,’ I said. I hesitated
briefly and then went on. ‘If you really need to know so badly then
yes, I was a Catholic but now I’m not. I finished with the Church
when I was fifteen. Happy?’
I sounded so sure, so definite. I believed
it myself.
Chris nodded. ‘I’ve never been religious,’
he said. ‘I think it’s good if people can agree on things as basic
and as critical as that, especially if they’re going to be close
friends.’
‘ Is that what you think we
could be?’ I asked him.
‘ Yes,’ he said. ‘I’d like
us to be.’
‘ Me too,’ I said. ‘Just
don’t called me a lapsed Catholic, or anything else. I don’t like
being pigeonholed.’
‘ People always pigeonhole,’
agreed Chris. ‘Like, I didn’t play much sport so I got labelled as
gay.’
‘ You know what’s it’s like
to be different,’ I agreed.
‘ We’re the same,’ said
Chris.
‘ The same,’ I said. ‘But
different.’
Belonging
By that stage it was already mid afternoon
and we hadn’t gone terribly far along the track. We packed up the
remains of our lunch, had another drink and a few more warm kisses
before continuing upwards. On the
way we passed a plantation of pine trees
growing thickly down one side of the hill.
‘ Yuck,’ I said. ‘Why
couldn’t they have planted natives?’
Chris said, ‘We’re not natives either.’
‘ What do you
mean?’
‘ Well, you’re part Irish,’
he said.
‘ And a tiny little bit
Scots and Polish,’ I added.
‘ And I’m part ancient
Greek,’ he said.
‘ And completely mad,’ I
said, as kindly as I could.
‘ It all
depends on what you feel you are,’ he said.
‘ To tell
the truth, I’ve never really thought about it that way,’ I said. ‘I
mean, I know I’ve got connections in Ireland, not that Dad talks -
or my Gran ever talked - much about them, but I was born here so . .
.’
‘ So, do
you feel at home here?’ he
unaccommodating.’
‘ Exactly.’
‘ But isn’t that going too
far, being too black and white about it?’ I said, remembering Mum’s
comment some years ago when I tried arguing that I could be a
murderer in good conscience.
‘ How far is too far?’ Chris
asked. ‘Religion’s
about black and white. There are no shades
of grey when it comes to religious beliefs. It’s all one thing or
another. That’s why there’ve been so many wars fought in the name
of religion. That’s why people are still being blown up, shot at,
persecuted today.’
‘ That’s true, sometimes,’ I
said, thinking Dad’s Northern Ireland was a classic
example.
‘ So that’s why I asked . .
.’ Chris hesitated. ‘That’s why I asked the other day if you were a
Catholic,’ he said.
‘ Because you were sacred I
was a religious fanatic and might try to blow you up, shoot you and
persecute you?’ I said. I couldn’t help being sarcastic. ‘Get real
man.’
‘ That wasn’t the reason,’
he said. ‘It’s because if you were, I needed to think if it would
be a good thing to, you know, get involved.’
‘ That was pretty
calculating,’ I said, after a few moments’ silence. ‘You told me it
wouldn’t have mattered.’
‘ No it wouldn’t have. At
least, I don’t think it would.’
‘ For all I knew you might
have been a serial rapist,’ I said. ‘Maybe I should have asked if
you were.’
‘ Fair enough,’ said Chris.
‘It does sound calculating.’
‘ It is.’
‘ I guess I just didn’t want
to take a risk and have it all come unstuck afterwards.’
‘ Why would it?’
‘ Well, you know, Catholics
have to toe the party line. They’re not supposed to go out with
anyone unless it’s another Catholic . . .
‘ What a load of bullshit,’
I said. ‘One or two
things have changed since the Middle Ages,
you know.’
‘ So you do know something
about it?’ Chris asked.
‘ Ah, that was a sneaky way
of finding out.’
Chris didn’t deny it but I couldn’t be
bothered telling him off anymore.
‘ OK,’ I said. I hesitated
briefly and then went on. ‘If you really need to know so badly then
yes, I was a Catholic but now I’m not. I finished with the Church
when I was fifteen. Happy?’
I sounded so sure, so definite. I believed
it myself.
Chris nodded. ‘I’ve never been religious,’
he said. ‘I think it’s good if people can agree on things as basic
and as critical as that, especially if they’re going to be close
friends.’
‘ Is that what you think we
could be?’ I asked him.
‘ Yes,’ he said. ‘I’d like
us to be.’
‘ Me too,’ I said. ‘Just
don’t called me a lapsed Catholic, or anything else. I don’t like
being pigeonholed.’
‘ People always pigeonhole,’
agreed Chris. ‘Like, I didn’t play much sport so I got labelled as
gay.’
‘ You know what’s it’s like
to be different,’ I agreed.
‘ We’re the same,’ said
Chris.
‘ The same,’ I said. ‘But
different.’
Belonging
By that stage it was already mid afternoon
and we hadn’t gone terribly far along the track. We packed up the
remains of our lunch, had another drink and a few more warm kisses
before continuing upwards. On the
way we passed a plantation of pine trees
growing thickly down one side of the hill.
‘ Yuck,’ I said. ‘Why
couldn’t they have planted natives?’
Chris said, ‘We’re not natives either.’
‘ What do you
mean?’
‘ Well, you’re part Irish,’
he said.
‘ And a tiny little bit
Scots and Polish,’ I added.
‘ And I’m part ancient
Greek,’ he said.
‘ And completely mad,’ I
said, as kindly as I could.
‘ It all
depends on what you feel you are,’ he said.
‘ To tell
the truth, I’ve never really thought about it that way,’ I said. ‘I
mean, I know I’ve got connections in Ireland, not that Dad talks -
or my Gran ever talked - much about them, but I was born here so . .
.’
‘ So, do
you feel at home here?’ he
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