I had the room next to him and at times I heard him cry in-between the clicking beats. No different from me really.
I was here because my father left the priesthood. He fell in love with my mother and before committing a sin, he stopped being a priest. He always quoted Thomas More at me and my sisters when we were growing up: "Better to be a chaste husband than a sinful priest" as he kissed my mother. That didn't stop him encouraging me into the seminary.
Encourage wasn't the word, it was blackmail. I returned from college in my final year to find my sisters and mother gone for the day and my father sat in the dining room that was only ever used at Christmas. Lying on the ornate mahogany table were the photographs I hoped they'd never find. The standard innocent enough snaps of spring breaks down by the coast; of youngsters hugging and kissing.
Except these snaps contained a former Catholic Priest's son and his first boyfriend.
My father wouldn't hear the explanation that I couldn't actually find anyway but needless to say I was immediately enrolled in the seminary and sent on the repent express to collardom. The sincere hope of my father was that chastity would stop whatever sinful thoughts entered my head, I'd gain forgiveness and he would have the priest he could never be.
I met Daniel a year in. Kind soul. Well most them were there; earnest young men all eager to do their duty to God. However unlike the descended-angel purity the others aimed for, he seemed to have the kind of intensity about him that could be quite frankly disturbing. It wasn't that that interested me though; it was the occasional glances at the other students and then the look of shame as he did so. I recognised that look I had worn that look.
Except unlike him I didn't vanish into the confessional the next day.
"Are you like me?" I asked him one day as we walked together through the corridor returning books to the library.
He stopped and tilted his head to one side. He was attractive, there was no denying it. I wanted to touch him so I slammed my hands behind my back.
"What do you mean?"
"Here because of a lifestyle choice? Something you are trying to deny?" I wished there was some kind of hand signal that would illustrate the phrase: "are you gay like me?".
He went pale and I saw his hand fall to his pocket, where not doubt his crucifix was. My own crucifix was resting against my breastbone and I felt remarkably whole. The guilt training still hadn't kicked in with me yet.
"That is an affront against God, Joshua." He said quietly. "You should be in the confessional, not accusing me of this." He carried on walking and left me stood in the corridor feeling like the worst of criminals.
Three months later I was ejected from the seminary. I don't know what they would call it really, fraternisation with the staff? A gross mistake? A hot, steamy session in an empty classroom? Or, for me, a way out. I wish I could say it was romantic; two trainee priests making eyes at each other across their lecterns and giving into the sweet forbidden fruit of lust after too much wine but no.
It was during a tutorial where the teacher had not shown. I had expressed my doubts, hinted my reasons and it had lead to fucking across the desks. Not gentle, not sweet, not even that sexy. For him � an older trainee � it was scratching an itch with a younger man who could be fucked and stay silent. For me it was a way to convince myself that I didn't want to be here.
Yes we were discovered, bollocked soundly and removed. Like a tumour they removed the scandal early and within twenty four hours I was carrying my suitcase across the immaculate lawn to my eldest (and thankfully most open-minded) sister's car. I look back at the building and I saw him standing at the window. Even from the distance I could see those green eyes staring blankly back at mine and I could see him holding the white card I left him with 'If you want to talk' followed by my cellphone number along with the rosary.
I held little hope that he would call, but at least I had done something.
I loaded my case into the car and hugged my sister.
"Is Dad mad?"
"Seething, but Mum's handling it. She told me to keep you at mine for a bit."
I got into the passenger side and looked out of the window. Those green eyes followed me all the way down the driveway.