The Confessions: Companion to The Queen (The Original Sinners Companions)

by Tiffany Reisz

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been six months since my last confession.” “What happened six months ago?” “I met Eleanor.” “Lovely name. I hope she’s beautiful enough to warrant ruining your life over.” “She is.”

“If you wanted a nice easy confession, you should have gone to a Franciscan. I

Marcus had a bad habit of forgetting he was mortal. Good that he remembered his past moments of weakness. Even better that he’d admit to them.

“Sadistic is the word for it. God in the Old Testament wasn’t anyone’s pal.”

“Good reasons? They can send us anywhere without having to move whole families. We can get closer to people because there’s no wife or children at home to get jealous of how much time we’re spending with the sick or the scared. Bad reasons? The Church wants to control its clergy. Control the cock, control the man. We fall in love, get married, have children…suddenly we have something in our lives more important than the Church.” “So

“Tell me what she’s like,” Ballard said. “Convince me she’s worth you risking your entire vocation over.” “What do you want to know? Height? Short. Hair color? Black.” “What do you see in her?” “She…she makes me laugh. I feel human with her. I don’t feel human very often, but I do with her.” “You are human.” “If I wasn’t sure I was human before, I am now. She makes me weak.” “That’s why they call this sacrament ‘reconciliation.’ Yes, God and sinner are reconciled. But more than that, man is reconciled with himself. We are the most ourselves when giving our confession. ‘God have mercy on me a sinner.’ ” “God have mercy on me a sinner,” Marcus said. “And God have mercy on me because I cannot repent of loving her.” “Is

“I’m a sixty-year-old heterosexual Jesuit priest who has nothing but respect for monogamy, marriage, and the missionary position. Continue. Please.”

“She also calls the narthex the ‘lobby.’ ” “Jesus, Mary and Joseph…” Father Ballard shook his head and crossed himself. He hadn’t felt this torn since Miriam left. He loved Marcus and it was a joy to see him so happy. And yet… “Marcus, I swear—” “Stuart, you know I hate it when you call me that.” “Marcus is your name.” “Marcus is my father’s name.” “It’s your name too. Your issues with your father notwithstanding—” “I have no issues with my father,” Marcus said. “I hate him. That’s not an issue. That is a fact.” “No issues with your father? Do you know how many white male British Catholics there are? Double digits might be wishful thinking. You can count the number of English Jesuits living in American on one hand. And yet, you, the son of an Englishman, find the one English Jesuit in the entire province to be your confessor.” “Coincidence.” “We’re Catholics. We don’t believe in coincidence.

I could sit back and listen to her talk for hours. If I asked her to, I think she would.” He closed his eyes and released a deep breath. “I can’t get enough of her.”

I don’t care what you and he did in bed together. I care that you betrayed his love for you. He’s not here to speak for himself so I will stand in his stead and speak on his behalf. You don’t get to hurt him ever again. Do you understand that?”

“Even the most intelligent people have to be reminded of the obvious sometimes. You are not judged by what you think, but what you do. We all have horrible thoughts, thoughts that shame us, thoughts we don’t even want God to see.”

“Eleanor makes it so easy to wake up in the morning. Knowing there’s the merest chance I’ll see her that day compels me to church knowing at some point that day she’ll be standing in my doorway telling me off about one thing or another. I am lost in my love for her.” “I want to stop you, find you, bring you back. And yet…” Ballard said, aching with sympathy for Marcus, for himself, for all the priests he knew who were good men who’d chosen the Church over their own hearts. “If I were your age and had it to do all over again…” “Yes?” “Well, let’s just say poor Miriam would wear out her knees from a certain activity that is not related to praying.”

Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, he prayed the old prayer in his mind. But only say the word and my soul shall be healed. And while you’re at it, he added, say the word and get my mind out of the gutter too, if you would, please.

“Do you take the Lord’s name in vain?” “I’m Catholic. Of course I do, God dammit.”

‘Pain is knowledge rushing in to fill a gap.’ ” “Pain is knowledge rushing in to fill a gap,” she repeated. “Sounds like St. Ignatius.” “Jerry Seinfeld actually.”

“It hurts when we realize we can’t give everything to the person we love, that we can’t be everything to the person we love.”

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” Psalm 38. And here was a brokenhearted child of God right in his arms. What a blessing to be a priest with tenderhearted sinners like this in the world.

A real arsehole most of the time.” She shuddered in his arms with tears and laughter. “Can’t stand him myself,” Stuart continued. “Big blond brute strutting around with all his height and his massive brain and his handsome face—and he’s getting too old to still be that handsome. You better believe I resent the hell out of it.” “Tell me about it,” she groaned. “He’s prettier now than he was twenty years ago. I hate him.” “Oh, and there’s that look he gives you. You know the look. The magnifying glass in the sunlight look, and you’re there on the sidewalk like an ant burnt to a crisp.” “I know that look,” she said between ragged breaths. “I’ve been that toasted ant more than once.” “He gets off on it, you know,” Ballard said. “Gets off on seeming scary and tough. And all this time he had a gooey secret marshmallow in his heart. He was probably too embarrassed to tell you about it. You might think he’d gone soft. No man wants to go soft in front of his lover.” “Oh no, not soft. Anything but that.”

“The great heartache of my life was discovering this truth—there is no such thing as a simple life. We all want it, all seek it. It doesn’t exist, Eleanor. Not on this side of Heaven. I’m a man without a wife, without children. I don’t pay my own bills. I have a guaranteed roof over my head until my dying breath. I have my health and nothing to worry about, and even I don’t lead a simple life. You can’t have a simple life with a wild heart like yours. The simple life is a mirage. It’s like a perfectly clean and polished wine glass. And you want that pristine chalice, but the second you reach out and pick it up, it’s covered in your fingerprints. It’s only clean until it’s yours, then it’s dirty. That’s the simple life. It’s simple until you show up and start using it.”

“Penance? You? His lover? My dear Eleanor—you love a priest. The sin itself carries its own penance.” She laughed and it was such a laugh he knew her soul was healed.

For Søren, his best is him being a responsible, caring and CAREFUL sadist. His worst is being the sadist he would be if it were suddenly proved the heavens were empty and there is no God. When he’s with Nora, God’s watching. When he’s with King, God is not looking. Or at least Søren hopes God isn’t looking. Hence the “God closed his eyes” line in The Prince.