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friends.” He raised his hand to ward off any response from Thomas just yet. “I know. It sounds preposterous, but I have colleagues and parishioners, and I have a deeply intimate relationship with my family. But I live with a sense of obligation to humanity that has never allowed for personal relationships.”
    “I did guess as much. But you should revel in life from time to time. You’ll find that I take things to the opposite extreme. I’ll teach you all that you wish and more. May we sit?”
    “Of course.”
    Xavier ushered him toward a bench, with only a faint lantern for illumination. Thomas sat next to him and looked into his eyes. The proximity aroused Xavier, sending panic through his body as his stimulation increased. Before either of them said anything, Thomas laughed aloud.
    “Abbé, you astound me. Why are you petrified? Your face is bright red.”
    “Please, it’s Xavier.” He had never said that to anyone outside his family. The church strictly forbade intimacy between curé and flock, and Xavier was not close to any of his colleagues except one nun.
    “Xavier it is, then. Do you always look so distressed?”
    “No, really—not usually. I just don’t know what to do with this...friendship.” He said the word slowly, savoring it, uncertain what it meant.
    “Well, what can I do to help?”
    “I’m not sure. What do we do?”
    “I see I have my work cut out for me,” Thomas said dryly. “We just do what we did last night. We talk and learn from each other. And there will be times we need to help each other. I’ll never need a priest, but I may need companionship.” Thomas patted Xavier on the back, sending shivers down Xavier’s spine. “It’s exceedingly difficult to explain how friendship works, but we’ll manage. Make this agreement with me. We’ll just enjoy the company, and when you need clarification or feel the urge to apologize, tell me and we’ll address those concerns as they come.”
    “I’ll do my best, but tell me when I fail.”
    “You’ll never have to guess about my feelings. In fact, I already have a concern.”
    “What is that, Thomas?”
    “I hear a lot of anticlerical sentiment in Paris. What keeps you safe?”
    Xavier shrugged. “They lash out at the establishment. My parish never threatens me. True, worship attendance has suffered, but I don’t fear the people I serve.”
    “Will the militia assist you?”
    “There’s no need for such extreme measures. They attack that which threatens them, and this small church in no way endangers these people. You already know that I share many of their sentiments.”
    Thomas seemed assuaged and for the next hour, they chatted as they had the night before, about the riots, government, and Paris. The more they talked, the more Xavier relaxed. But his initial hesitance embarrassed him. He found Thomas’s familiarity liberating and fun, with no inhibitions or threat of condemnation. Perhaps friendship was as simple as this, and as they quietly talked behind the church, Xavier lost track of time. He was jolted out of this leisure, however, when he heard steps echoing up the catacomb’s entrance behind the church.
    Oh, no. How could he forget Maria? All of this talk of friendship and he had forgotten his one friend. Well, his one friend in the Catholic Church. Nor could he forget about Anne, the former slave laundress who he visited regularly to discuss theology. She and Maria both qualified as friends. Perhaps his problem with friendship had to do with male friendships and not friendship in general? Maria and he had arranged a visit this evening to ensure the secrecy of their plans without the watchful eye of church authorities, and in his infatuation with Thomas, he had forgotten.
    Xavier jumped off the bench and away from Thomas too late. Thomas looked befuddled and then saw the approaching figure. The plump nun, dressed in black, stood quietly.
    “Is this a bad time, abbé?”
    “Sister, good evening. No, not at