Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 04 - Strings of Glass by Emily Kimelman Page A

and the sound of the
children floated up to us. A breeze blew through the space and fans on the
ceiling helped move it along. “Nice,” I said.
    “I
feel that for many the communal sleeping feels very safe. I grew up with my own
room and often found it frightening and lonely,” he said. I pictured the
young Agapito in a large and shadowed bedroom, clutching his bedding, imagining
monsters in the shadows. The children who slept in these beds had faced real
boogie men.
    “The
boys’ side is the same,” Chloe said. “We don’t have any empty
beds.”
    Agapito
shrugged. “We always have room for a few more.”
    Chloe
frowned. “But you can see how much we have at stake here.” Agapito
turned to her, his head cocked and a question on his brow. Chloe cleared her
throat. “The children they are trying to bring here belong to Kalpesh
Shah.”
    Agapito
paled. “Thank God,” he said, turning
to me. “But how?”
    Blue,
finished with his survey, returned to my side. I swallowed and suddenly the
room felt small under Agapito’s penetrating gaze. Noticing my discomfort he
said,
“Come, let’s go to my office where we can talk;
I’m sure we will find a solution.”
    Chloe
led the way back downstairs to a small office with dark wood furniture and big,
comfortable, worn arm chairs. Agapito sat behind his desk, the white of the
priest’s linen shirt looked bright in the dark room. Sunlight filtered through
a leaded-glass window, casting a flat light. Dan sat in one of the chairs and I
sat in the other. Blue settled next to me. Looking around at the space I tried
to think of where to begin. A part of me wanted to run from the church and leap
over that little gate. There was so much in the dogma of this institution that
filled me with loathing, but when I looked over at
Agapito I saw an undeniably good man.
    “Do
you hate gay people?” I asked.
    The
priest looked surprised for a second and then smiled. “Of course not, I
hate nobody.”
    “But
do you think they are going to hell? Do you think they deserve to burn for
eternity?”
    “This
seems off topic,” Chloe said.
    I turned
to her. She was leaning against a low filing cabinet, her hands curled around
the edge. Chloe wet her lips and then bit down on her lower lip under my gaze.
“It’s not off topic ,” I said. “I’m trying to decide who to entrust
with the lives of children and if it turns out one of them is gay, which is
statistically almost guaranteed, I don’t want them to grow up thinking there is
anything wrong with that. Their heads have been fucked with enough. They don’t
need some bullshit fake morality stuffed down their throats.”
    Chloe
swallowed and looked down at her feet. “Of course not, but,” she
looked back up, her glasses reflecting the windows behind me, “you do
realize that this is India. It’s only just become legal.”
    I turned
back to the priest. “Look, you seem like an exceptional man with
compassion and empathy. You obviously have a way with people. What I want to
know is do you accept them for how God made them or are you a hypocrite?”
    “I
am gay,” he said. Chloe took a sharp intake of breath and the priest
continued. “Obviously, I am celibate but I
am gay. And I don’t think I’m going to burn in hell.” He smiled at me.
    “Is
that only because you’re abstaining?”
    He shook
his head. “Jesus wants us to love each other, care
for each other. I make no judgments, but
only want to help people find peace in this life and the next.”
    “However,
that is not the standard line for the Catholic church. How do I know you won’t
get shipped out of here and another priest, one not as enlightened as you,
comes in and fucks it all up?”
    “I
suppose you will just have to have faith.”
    “Not
good enough.”
    “I
will alert you if I ever leave. And, of course, Chloe’s organization, which I’m
sure you know is secular, is responsible for the majority of the school’s
curriculum and policies.”
    I