All of it feels just beneath the surface, and Gabriel is terrified that if he says one thing, the rest will come flooding out. Anthony's heard of his unusual parentage and he's continued in his interest despite it.
But Christ, somehow that feels like the most innocent thing about him.
"My mother called me an abomination, you know. When I asked if men could-- if it was possible that-- That's what she called it. An abomination before God, and I managed to just say, if a man and woman could love each other that way, I thought surely anyone else could. She managed to calm down and forgive me for thinking something so silly, so ridiculous and unholy."
He's used the words before; he remembers Anthony's fierce defense and how deeply it touched him. He wonders if he'd be so protective if he knew about Noel, about John, about Father Cornelius. There is surely something in him that led them all to find him.
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But Christ, somehow that feels like the most innocent thing about him.
"My mother called me an abomination, you know. When I asked if men could-- if it was possible that-- That's what she called it. An abomination before God, and I managed to just say, if a man and woman could love each other that way, I thought surely anyone else could. She managed to calm down and forgive me for thinking something so silly, so ridiculous and unholy."
He's used the words before; he remembers Anthony's fierce defense and how deeply it touched him. He wonders if he'd be so protective if he knew about Noel, about John, about Father Cornelius. There is surely something in him that led them all to find him.