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When Thomas Lawrence came by the papal apartments that evening, he came, unsurprisingly, with a bundle of papers under his arm.
Vincent tried on and discarded four separate teasing comments about it, but didn’t get to decide on one before Thomas silently handed them over, and he realized they were newspapers, opened and refolded over the weekly comics, his favorite. Three of them, one for each week he’d been away.
Ah, he thought, with the feeling of a sudden hard deceleration in his chest, the press it put on his heart. Ah. All right then.
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(...he put his face against his neck and looked past him into the gilt marble presence of the Holy Spirit, and Vincent Benítez, crude and folkish, bared all his teeth. You may have every part of me but this, he thought. This is mine alone.)
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Bookmark Notes:
What lovely and evocative narration, conducted in a non-linear way so expertly (unlike other authors who stumble and trip over it). This explores beautifully Vincent's background as a Mexican priest, and his international missions in war and extreme difficulty. All that, and we get to see the first consumation of love between Vincent and Thomas, two old Catholic priests... This is just jaw-droppingly superb. Reading this once will make you want to instantly re-read it again.
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