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“Would you like to join me for a cup of tea?” he asked.

“I should get home,” I said. “I’m sorry for assuming…I’m just sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” O’Shea said, wrapping his arm over my shoulders. “I wasn’t actually asking.”

He ushered me toward the offices off the back of the chapel and motioned for me to sit in a chair in the kitchenette while he moved around preparing cups of tea before sitting across from me and sliding me a steaming mug.

“How are you doing, Andy?” he asked.

“Fine,” I lied automatically.

“Let’s try that again,” he said, setting his mug back down and turning his steely gaze on mine. “How are you doing?”

“I’m struggling,” I admitted, lowering my face to stare into my own mug.

“I know,” he said. “You’ve missed quite a few classes over the past couple of weeks. And your assignments have been described as…lacking.”

I exhaled slowly. I hadn’t actually realized I’d been slipping so much that it was noticeable to my teachers.

“If tutoring Mr. Hix is interfering with your own studies, we can make other arrangements,” he offered.

“It’s not that,” I said softly. “It’s personal stuff.”

“Existential crisis?” he guessed, his tone light but not teasing. “It’s not uncommon at your age, son.” He reached out and patted my hand. “Especially when facing a future such as yours.”

“How do you mean?” I asked, looking back up at him.

“You’re a few years from taking your vows,” he reminded me. “It’s perfectly normal to have doubts. To worry about what you’ll miss by answering this call. To even reconsider altogether.”

So, we were back to this again.

“Sir, do you find me unfit for priesthood?” I asked him. “Is there something about me that is giving you doubts as to my ability to do this?”

“Unfit? Not at all. The church would be lucky to have a young man such as yourself. I’m just wondering if the church is the right decision for you.”

“And why is that?” I challenged.

“Because I think it wouldn’t bring you the happiness that a different path might,” he said.

“With all due respect, Monsignor O’Shea, you don’t know me.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Simpson, yes I do.” He chuckled as he shook his head at me. “You came here with enough AP English credits to know that there are no original stories. And you remind me very much of another young man, who ran from his own heart into the church. And I allowed it, because at the time I didn’t feel it was my place to interfere. But I regretted it.” He sighed. “It all worked out in the end, as these things do. He left the priesthood, got married and all was right with the world again.”

“Okay,” I said, totally lost as to whether or not I was supposed to find a point in there somewhere. “Well, I’m not likely to marry a nice girl and settle down behind a white picket fence.”

“I didn’t say that you were,” he said. “And I don’t recall saying anything about a girl at all. Certainly, that wasn’t the path Callum Ryan took when he left here. In fact, as far as I know, he and Declan travel so much they don’t even own a home at the moment.”

“So this is because I’m gay,” I said, pushing away from the table and standing up. “You know, my sexuality really shouldn’t matter considering there won’t be sex of any kind anyway. I know what the church thinks about people like me, but God doesn’t make mistakes. He made me this way for a reason. And it shouldn’t have any bearing on whether or not I become a priest.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” O’Shea said firmly. “And the church is far more understanding than it’s ever been. Whereas I have never felt that sexuality was a factor in anything beyond what two people do in their own bedrooms. Me questioning your reasons for wanting to be a priest isn’t because I don’t think you deserve it, Mr. Simpson. It’s because I believe that maybe you deserve better.” He took a sip of tea as he looked up at me. “Please sit back down.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but I did settle back into my chair as he requested.

“This is all I’ve ever wanted,” I finally said when I realized he wasn’t going to fill the silence stretching between us.

“As a career, or ever in general?” he asked gently.

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” I chuckled without any real humor in it. “My shrink asked me the same thing and I couldn’t answer him either. I don’t remember wanting anything really.”