Hell.
"Ma, just talk to me."
"I don't have time to speak to you right now, Eric," she said, each syllable punctuated with anger and disdain. Her eyes were read and swollen as she tried to maneuver her pearl earrings through her lobes despite her shaking hands. They had been a gift from Eric, her only son, last year for Christmas. It was her twelfth without her husband. She still missed him every day and sometimes even more when she looked at her son. "We are late for church. Put on your sport coat."
Eric pulled on the Gucci jacket obediently, feeling like he was in the sixth grade rather than some Hollywood power player. Even with the $3,000 blazer, he was a child in his mother's presence when she scolded him. They'd been back in New York for two years now, returning after Murray had offered Eric the chance to head the East Coast office. Vince was traveling back and forth when he was shooting, and Eric came with whenever he could. They'd been together for three years.
His mother's Catholic guilt was worse than any review when they finally came out, so they spent every Sunday that summer in the third pew at St. Agnes. Eric would drive his mother dutifully each Sunday in the shiny black Mercedes coupe he bought for her but she never used. He would hold his mother's elbow and speak politely to the other parishioners and never show Vince even the slightest bit of affection in public. They would just sit on either side of Eric's mother in the pew, tithing generously and listening as intently as possible to the sermon. Afterward, in the car, his mother would ask Eric his thoughts about the message and talk to Vince about the music and pretend as if it were any other Sunday when they were children.
Vince was already waiting for them in the third pew when Eric came into the cathedral with his mother. Eric's face lit up as he smiled widely at Vince over his mother's head. A slight brush crept up Vince's throat and Eric felt a little proud that he was the only one who could ever make the beautiful superstar turn crimson. "Vincent is right over there," his mother said softly before stopping to talk with one of the ladies from the neighborhood. Eric stayed at her side, pretending to listen as the two women prattled on about the food drive the church was heading the next week.
"Hello, Mrs. Murphy," Vince greeted Eric's mother politely, standing to kiss her cheek chastely just as he had every time they'd gone to church since the boys were six. He usually called her Ma, but something about it had seemed wrong once she realized they were more than just friends. The word had taken on a whole new meaning. Vince smiled at Eric, which earned a sharp look at Vince and an elbow to the stomach for Eric. "My ma should be here any minute. She was on the phone with Johnny. He's up for some big part. You know how he gets."
"Yes, how is Johnny?" Eric's mother asked, turning to listen as Vince filled her in on all the details of Drama's latest exploits. Eric already knew all of this and instead opted to lean back and stare at the scary paintings on the chapel's ceiling. They had terrified him as a child, putting the fear of God in him about sin long before he knew what the commandments even meant. By the time he was in high school, Catholicism had just faded to be another trait in him – like being Irish or from Queens.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Murphy." Eric looked up to see Gina Rosco leaning over the pew toward his mother. "My mother was hoping that you could help her prepare communion. Mrs. Lucci was supposed to help her but she had to go to the hospital. Anna Beth went into labor a few weeks early."
"Of course," she replied, standing up. She looked between the boys, her blue eyes glittering. She was so much like Eric sometimes that Vince couldn't help but smile. "You two boys behave yourselves until I get back."
"Yes, Ma," Eric smiled obediently, standing up to usher his mother out of the pew. He waited until she was long out of earshot before sliding over into the pew. He wanted to reach for Vince's hand or put his arm across the back of the pew. Instead, he just leaned his head over as if he were talking softly out of respect for their surroundings. "I missed you last night."
"You should have come earlier then," Vince said suggestively. Eric had worked late while Vince had stayed home and slept. He'd been filming long hours all week and relished weekends where he could lounge around their loft. No one in Queens knew about their relationship because they were living in Manhattan. Eric still kept his official address at his mother's house. She didn't particularly like lying for her son but also knew what it meant to keep this private. "Are you coming back to the city with me after or do you have dinner at your mom's?"
"I was hoping that you would come with me," he suggested. While his mother wasn't thrilled about their relationship, she also tried her best to be supportive. She had told Eric more than once that her faith taught him that their relationship was a sin. However, she also couldn't imagine turning out her old child. "Ma got a brisket on sale from Safeway, and I think I heard her mention something about apple pie."
In the back of the church, Mrs. Murphy stood, watching her two boys leaning toward each other. It looked completely innocent but she knew that it was anything but. Her two boys, Vincent and Eric, they loved each other. It was a constant battle of faith for her. She loved them both more than she could imagine loving anyone, but she'd been a Catholic her whole life. She never imagined that her Eric would be gay (a word she still had a hard time saying aloud), but he was. And he was in love with someone who loved him as much back. That was what made her question her faith. How could a love that unconditional be wrong?
She returned to her pew and settled in as the priest started in on the sermon. It was a typical service until it came time for the second passage reading. It was from the book of Leviticus and led right into the sermon. The priest started talking about sin and outlining the different types of wrongdoing outlined in the length chapter of the Old Testament. With each sentence, she could feel Eric growing more and more tense beside her. Vince had long tuned out and was playing with a piece of thread coming loose from his dress shirt. She was just about to pat his forearm when she heard the priest say, "It is disgusting that people call this homosexual behavior – a mortal sin – a kind of love."
That was enough to cause her to bolt up in her seat. She had been a proud Catholic for sixty-two years, not once doubting what she heard in church each Sunday was the absolute truth. However, if this supposed man of God was going to stand there and call her son something horrible for loving Vincent, she just wasn't going to keep her mouth shut. "Excuse me, Father O'Brien, I think you are wrong there."
Father O'Brien looked out over the congregation until his eyes landed on a petite redhead. Her hands were balled in fists on her hips. Her son was hunched over in the pew next to her, his head in his hands, while Vincent Chase was looking absently out the window. "Mrs. Murphy, I appreciate your opinion, but this is neither the proper time nor place for a debate."
"Are you God, Father O'Brien?"
"Of course not, Mrs. Murphy," he chuckled.
"Then who are you to stand up there and tell us what He thinks?" she accused him. Parishioners looked between the priest and the woman excitedly, as if this were a verbal tennis match and the truth was the fuzzy yellow ball at play. "For so long, I have made my son pretend to be something that he is not because I thought – no, I knew – what this church would say. I cared more about what you all thought than him being happy. You know what? I think that's a worse sin than the fact that Eric loves Vincent. What do you think?"
The priest shifted uncomfortably behind the pulpit. They all knew about Eric and Vince but never spoke of it. It's just the way things were done there. "I'm sorry, but I think that your son is wrong, Mrs. Murphy."
The accusation broke Vince out of his ambivalent haze. "Excuse me?" he spoke up, standing next to Mrs. Murphy angrily. His mother tried to pull on his shirt sleeve, but Vince shook her off easily. "Look, you can say what you want about me, I don't really give a damn." The church buzzed around them. "Yeah, I cursed, I think we've already established I'm a sinner. Calm down." Eric laughed to himself as the crowd hushed. "Eric is the best person I know. He is a good man. He loves his mother. He comes to church every weeks, volunteers at the soup kitchen, gives generously and regularly attends confession. He does his best to never speak ill of other people, he is incredibly kind and works harder than anyone. His only misfortune is that he happened to fall in love with a man, and as that guy, I have to tell you that I think you're all wrong. People look their entire lives for the kind of love I have with E. I just can't imagine a world or a God that would think that's a sin."
"Well, the Bible says otherwise, son," the priest said, holding up the thick black leather book. "You can't argue with God."
"He's not," Mrs. Murphy said. "He's arguing with you and how you're interpreting what you think God meant when he said that. The Bible isn't perfect, Father O'Brien. It can't be. It was written by man, and we both know that man isn't perfect. It's been translated and interpreted for generations upon generations."
"Perhaps, Mrs. Murphy, but the essential truth is still there."
"For you to conveniently define," Vince countered.
The priest was quiet for a moment before looking out over the rest of the congregation. "I have entertained this outburst for long enough. Now I have to kindly as you to either take your seats or leave my church," Father O'Brien requested.
Mrs. Murphy started to sit down before standing back up. She reached down for her son's hand and pulled him up. "We're going home, Eric," she declared loudly. Eric filed out of the pew nervously but proudly. His mother rested her hand on his back as she guided him toward the back of the church. When they were halfway down the aisle, she turned back and looked at where Rita and Vincent chase were still sitting in shock. "Come on, Vincent, I said we're going home."
Rita narrowed her eyes at her youngest son before shrugging and following after her son. She had always been the mouthy one, but she was proud to see Eric's mother stand up for both their boys. "Oh., and Father O'Brien," Rita announced. "You know that very generous endowment Vincent was going to give to the church? I think we'll be giving it to another church. I do hope you understand."
Vince looped his arm through his mother's and guided her out of the church after Eric and Mrs. Murphy. Once they were outside, the four adults burst into laughter as Eric hugged his mother proudly and Rita kissed Vince's cheek. And then Mrs. Murphy gathered Vince into her arms and whispered, "I'm so sorry, my son," into his ear before squeezing him tightly. He pulled back and nodded understandingly before hugging her again. Eric watched on, his arm around Rita in the warm Sunday sun. All was truly forgiven.
"What do you say we go for some brunch," Vince suggested, walking backward down the street toward the parking lot where Eric had left the Mercedes. Mrs. Murphy said that sounded like a good idea and strolled slowly behind the boys with Rita. She watched as Eric finally held Vince's hand in public for the first time in Queens and missed her husband. They had been a good family, but from where she stood, this one was turning out to be pretty damn good.
