The Strange Encounter
The departing rays of the sun infused the colour of a blazing fire across the membrane of the sky. Stretching to the horizon, blossoming the beauty of the Basilica that stood ahead of her. A camera occupied a young woman's hands as she clicked photographs of the picturesque view the Vatican City gifted her eyes. The dark-coloured skirt she was wearing fluttered as the gentle wind brushed against her fragile-looking form. A smile danced upon her lips, yet its verismo could be questioned. She was compelled to smile because it was what everyone expected her to do, yet it never felt like something she wanted to do. The Vatican was foreign to her. She was all but another face in the crowd. The foreign land she stood upon infused a funny feeling inside her even though she was accustomed to the habit of it. But the Vatican filled a spontaneous zeal in her. It could be the effect of its spirituality that made her forget everything for a moment, or maybe it was the beauty of the old structures which enthralled the history enthusiast inside her. Appreciating the beauty of the past was one thing her family always found odd about her, but it never refrained her from pursuing the depth of what transpired before her time. Maya's family missed her, and so did she. She was no stranger to travelling, but never in her wildest dream did she envision herself in Italy. It was not a need, nor was it essentiality for her to take such a big step. Something inside her failed to deny the offer letter, which was dropped at her doorstep two months ago. The whole Deol family was enthusiastic until the actualisation struck them that it meant a distance of more than six thousand kilometres would be keeping them apart from their Maya. Yet they did not deny Maya what she deserved.
Taking a few more photographs for sending to her parents, Maya turned away from the Basilica toward the car she had rented to return to the place she had been calling a house for the past few days. It had been a week since her bright arrival in Italy, and all she had done was explore the beauty Italy and Vatican had to offer. Her house was near the border of Italy and Vatican City, with a breathtaking view of the holy city. Myriad cartons were still left unpacked and untouched, while the young woman was still confused with the switches. Luckily for Maya, her neighbours were a retired couple who offered help on her first night in this foreign land. When she knocked on their door nearly at one in the night to ask if they had any knowledge about any restaurant that would be open at this hour. The sweet couple not only invited her in and served her the best risotto she had ever tasted but they also helped her settle in and took her to the masses at Saint Peter's Basilica. Their company aided her in coping with the loneliness that was killing her inside. Maya's home was spacious, but to her, the house felt empty and hollow. Why wouldn't it? A two-storey house for a single soul felt a little exaggerated, but the people at her office informed her that no other housing was available, and now she was stuck in a house which felt like it was trying to mock her solitude. She had made no efforts in settling the interior, and the things, which did get settled were the grace of Mr Moretti, who took the task of helping this young lady as a duty he was obliged to perform. Maya, on the other hand, accepted the offer with tremendous gratefulness. Despite the young woman not being Italian, the Moretti couple held no prejudice towards her. The young woman vividly remembers how, on her second night in Italy, she was skimming through the menus of various restaurants when her doorbell rang, revealing the old couple who had arrived with dinner for her and she had been receiving various kinds of European delicacies every day since then. The heartwarming act melted Maya's heart, and shifting to this foreign land did not seem like a mistake to her any longer. But not every day the sun shone brightly in the sky and so were the dull days in the life of Maya when the judging stares of the people made her feel alienated, disconnecting her from the welcoming embrace of the beautiful country.
*
A two-storey Victorian house stood at the end of the Via Boulevard, offering a pristine view of the holy Vatican City from the elevated terrain. The bricked structure was well-maintained and furnished. The house had been the residence of families before, but now a single spirit occupied the elegant home. The publishing house Maya joined mistook her for a married woman and arranged a home accordingly, and to add to her distress, no other property was currently available that her company found suitable for their new employee. Only a few cartons had been opened since her arrival while the rest of those boxes stared at her with the hope that she might open them too, but Maya was always too exhausted to turn this house into a home. The hollowness she felt in the house was at times unbearable.
Currently, the box of cannoli and a cup of black coffee was kept on the coffee table along with a laptop on which she was working Maya. The cannoli were untouched, the writer had been tempted by the sweet in the bakery, and she had planned to finish the delicacy while she worked on the manuscript, which arrived earlier today, but neither did she write a single word nor did she eat the cannoli. The moment she entered the house, the sight of unpacked cartons and loneliness brutally killed her optimism. Hence, Maya was sitting by the coffee table, her gaze fixed upon the box on which was written - 'Photos' with a black marker. The quiescence was adding to her distress, so the writer took in a deep breath, and decided to unpack some more boxes to take her mind off the loneliness she felt. Picking up the carton with all the family photographs and resolved to decorate the living room walls with the family photographs to make the house look a little lively. Pulling out the wooden frame, she glanced at them for a long time before hanging them on the walls. The still faces of her parents and younger sister, who all looked happy and full of life, were unlike her. And so begun was the attempt to rejuvenate her house into a home, which was messier than she had anticipated. Maya lost track of time while she spent about an hour of labour and almost lost a finger in the process. The boxes with the photos were emptied by the time the sun had set down the horizon, and Maya chose to take a complete look at her work. Almost all of the right wall of the drawing room was covered with framed photographs except for the vintage wooden brown bookcase, which she got with the house. The wood was in intact condition despite its looks and design, telling that it was an early 1920s Italian design with fine carvings of the Last Supper on its door. Despite the bookcase being old, its wood was in perfect condition but it seemed to her that the previous residents of this house never cared enough for this old piece of furniture. Examining every detail on the wooden structure with an arched eyebrow, Maya took a sceptical step toward it. Scanning the empty bookcase which had cobwebs and layers of dust covering it, she determined that the bookshelf needed to be in her study for it aligned with the vintage look of her office. Rolling up her sleeves, the writer stationed herself to the left side of the wooden case and started pushing it, which turned out to be an arduous task for the young woman whose body wasn't accustomed to such strenuous tasks. Wiping the sweat off her forehead, she kept pushing the bookcase until it was considerably far from its original position. Breathing heavily, Maya decided to give her body a little break from this arduous task as she dropped her frail form on the couch. She started reconsidering her choice of doing this in the first place. As the woman sat there casually looking at the wall which was previously behind the case. The part of the wall against which the bookcase was placed appeared a little odd. The wall unlike the rest of the living area was devoid of any wallpaper, and a thin line of black metal was forged at its edges. Very oddly, the case was precisely the size of a door. Leaning forward, the writer scanned that part of the wallpaper more closely as she got up from the couch. The step she took towards the wall was indisposed. She was mindlessly brushing her thin fingers against the wall in an attempt to understand the reason for its odd appearance when she came across a slight bump. Maya took a step back out of astonishment and contemplated the wall again. It took a few brief moments for her mind to realize what she had come across. This could be a secret door, or maybe her mind was getting outlandish in this huge house. To assure her suspicion, the young woman slightly pushed the wall. At first, no change appeared on the surface which made her heart sink, but she refused to give up. The writer pushed yet again, this time with a little more strength. The wall sifted. Zeal filled her body as she kept on pushing the door which produced a rusty sound as it opened. Maya stood triumphantly at the door as she stared down at what it was hiding. A passageway. Darkness was all her eyes could witness in that tunnel for as far as her eyes could see. The thrill of adventure-filled her heart as the young woman jumped like an excited little kid. Hurriedly grabbing the torchlight, the young woman decided to explore the passageway, no matter what lies at the end of it. While the excitement of adventure gleamed her up, one thought struck her like lightning – what was on the other side of the door? But more significantly – who was on the other side of the door? What if she was to encounter a psychopathic killer behind the door who waiting for someone to walk in so he could mutilate his next victim? Or maybe she was to walk into the secret lair of the Illuminati? The prospects were eternal, and most of them were dangerous, but she couldn't stop herself from wanting to pursue them.
Maya could hear the echoes of her footsteps in the narrow passageway as she walked down in the hope of finding a light at the end of this tunnel. It was evident that she was the first person this passageway had experienced in a long time as the cobwebs fell on her as she made her way through them. The young woman could feel her heart palpitating in her chest. The countless options of what was at the end of the passageway were running through her mind. While some possibilities made her want to reach the other end faster, the others made her want to return to the comfort of her house. The walk was long, tedious and mildly frustrating for Maya, who was annoyed by the fact that it did not seem to be coming to an end. A moment came when she decided to return, for it seemed a futile attempt. It was only then that she bumped into a hard surface. A metal door. The bump inflicted a sharp pain in her left shoulder, but she ignored it as her heart was infused with a thrill. There was no limit to the thrill she felt as she pushed the metal door to open it. Yet again, the door was heavy and rusted. There was a likelihood that the person on the other end was not aware of the passageway either. The writer kept pushing it. The continuous pushes forced the rusty door to open but the fragile-looking Maya had to push the metal door with all her body weight for it to open. The heavy door did open, but the momentum with which she applied the force made the young woman lose her equilibrium as she landed on a carpeted floor.
Maya was half lying on the floor, exhausted and breathless, covered in dust and cobwebs. Exhaustion numbed her vigilance as she made no attempt to comprehend her surroundings. The thought of someone might be in her company escaped her mind as she stayed that way on the carpeted floor, catching her breath. Out of nowhere, a thudding sound filled her ears, making her realize she was in someone's company. Turning her gaze towards the direction from where came the sound, she found a black figure standing there, staring down at her with a curious gaze, which she reciprocated. The strange man, who held a strange resemblance to someone she knew, took a cautious step towards her. She could sense the hesitation in his step. Who in their sane mind would find a stranger in their room as a welcoming sight, and she did not blame him? The man contemplated her for a short moment before offering her a hand as he spoke -
"Are you all right?" His silky voice was laced with concern.
The woman's raven eyes fiddled between the stranger's hand and his handsome face for a few moments before she hesitantly accepted his offer as he helped her stand. "You for once made me feel this chamber was possessed." He added as he looked at the door from which she entered.
"Apologies, I – I did not mean to trespass. I just stumbled upon the door to this passageway in my house." Maya explained herself as she took a step back and tried to comprehend her surroundings. The chamber she had ended up in was large, luxurious and neatly decorated with a Victorian interior. But Maya found her gaze returning to the face of her company as if she knew him but her memory was betraying her. The strange man was dressed in a black cassock, his soft brown hair was neatly combed back, and his ocean-blue eyes fixed on her. His face appeared young, but the fine scars that covered his face attracted her attention. It was then that the realization hammered her that the strange man was no ordinary man but the hero who saved everyone a year ago.
"You are the Camerlengo McKenna!" Squealed Maya as she studied his face closely, trying to authenticate if he was the very man or not. But he indeed was the brave Camerlengo. "I did not know the passageway would lead to your chamber, I am terribly sorry. Please do forgive me for this incident." Blurted out the dust-covered woman as a regretful visage took over her face. Maya took a step towards the tunnel with the intention of exiting the Camerlengo's chamber.
"A passageway?" The Father repeated, his intrigued tone implying his curiosity.
"Oh yes, there is a passageway from my house to your chamber here in the Vatican." Answered Maya, who stopped on her path. The young woman felt pity for herself for firstly, she stumbled into the room of a hero and that too when she was covered in dust and cobwebs. Couldn't her first meeting with the hero have been in the church during communion or mass? The embarrassment was momentous for her. Her parents would be vastly disappointed if she were to tell them this tale.
"And you knew that the passageway leads to the chamber of the Camerlengo?" Asked McKenna. He felt intrigued by the existence of the secret passageway he never knew about but what intrigued him more was the woman who was led to him by the tunnel. She was not from this country, and her foreign accent and exotic appearance were evidence of this.
"No, not at all Father. If I would have known, I wouldn't have dared to interrupt you." Replied Maya, who was taken aback by the question. He should feel concerned regarding the existence of the tunnel, not interested.
"This certainly was not an interruption, Miss, but I do feel intrigued by this discovery of yours. I have held this room for seven years and never once had the slightest hint that there was a hidden doorway right in front of my eyes." Patrick admitted his astonishment in a soft tone. Every word that left his lips felt like a melody to Maya's ears. She felt mesmerized by the aura the priest held. He was young to be a priest and too young to be a Camerlengo, but that was not the concern. The reason for concern was that he was too good-looking to be one.
"I suppose no one knew about this passageway, otherwise Mr Bianchi would have surely informed me about it and I would have never barged into your private chambers like this." Added the young woman as she tore her gaze away, refusing to look the priest in the eye. She still felt too embarrassed by her entrance.
A short-lived moment of silence followed their conversation as the two of them let the baffling news sink in. The individuals tried not to stare at each other, for both felt intrigued by the other. In those moments of silence, Patrick got the chance to notice his company for the first time. The warm ivory colour of her skin radiated against the dark blue blouse she wore. But it was the shining of the metal that rested on her bosom that attracted his attention. Two separate chains rested on her neck, one had a cross hanging from it, and the other one had two slightly rusted rings. The rings appeared to be wedding bands, but the Father was not sure if they were hers or if they belonged to a lost one. As the Priest realized he had his gaze fixed upon her, another realization struck him how impolite he was being by not being a mannerly host.
"Forgive me for I haven't been a good host to you, have I? Please do sit and allow me to serve you some tea." Spoke Patrick with the utmost politeness as he pointed at the chair beside his desk for her to sit on and went towards the other end of the room. Opening the door, it revealed a reasonable-sized kitchen which was fully equipped with every necessity the Camerlengo might come across.
"I don't suppose you want dust all over your desk, Father Mckenna. And there is no need to worry yourself with a tea I should leave now, I have already troubled you enough." Announced Maya as she looked around the chamber, feeling a little uneasy. She was sticking out of that place like a sore thumb, and it infused a weird feeling in her heart.
"Please do not feel of yourself as trouble. I never had any guests here and you are the first one in seven years, Miss. You must allow me to be a host." Replied the Camerlengo from the kitchen as he appeared with a tray. "And there is no need to concern yourself with dust, it is absolutely fine." He counted with a smile. The smile was sweet, and it almost made Maya breathless for reasons unknown.
Maya observed the man closely, he was polite to even an intruder. Watching the brave hero performing such domesticated tasks infused a funny feeling inside Maya who found it hard to deny the sweet offer from the Priest. So, the young woman sat on the armchair kept by the fireplace, which was currently not lit, as she spectated Father Patrick preparing a cup of tea for her.
"Sugar?" He asked as he poured the steaming liquid into the fine china cup. Maya only nodded in reply, not knowing what she was supposed to say. She was a sugarless black coffee person, but she was not going to deny this hero, was she?
Patrick handed the lady her cup and sat on the armchair that was kept in front of Maya. The pair sipped their tea in silence. The writer, who was not fond of drinking the hot beverage, very oddly found this tea perfect for consumption. The Priest, on the other hand, was a little relieved, for he was not drinking his evening tea in isolation which he detested. A company was all he ever asked, but no one in the Basilica saw him as a tea pal. Those people refused to even look him in the eye. Even His Holiness saw a hero in him, which Patrick knew he was not. He could sense the same hesitation in this young woman, but neither did she refuse to look him in the eyes nor did she speak in mere whispers to him. She was aware of the status, he held to his name but she also saw a man in front of her. As the Camerlengo took another sip of his tea, he realized that despite her knowing who he was, he never asked about her designation, and so he asked-
"It seems like you know my name but forgive me I never caught your name, Miss..."
"It's Maya, Maya Deol." Answered the young woman as she gently placed her empty china on the coffee table. The warm liquid relaxed her tensed muscles, making Maya feel a little relaxed. The writer despite being asked to make herself comfortable was sitting on the edge of the brown armchair, not wanting to spread the dust over the visibly expensive piece of furniture. Her thin fingers fiddled with the rusted wedding bands - an involuntary action her fingers did when Maya felt uncertain or did not know what was to be done. Currently, she was uncertain of what was to be done but most certainly what Father Patrick McKenna will be doing once he was done with his tea. A large part of her brain stated he would ask her to return and get the door sealed while the heart argued that he would not have invited her for the tea if that were his intention. Regardless of what his intentions were, Maya decided that she would never use the tunnel again. She had no intentions of intruding on the Priest's privacy. Sighing heavily, Maya waited for Father McKenna to break the silence, for she did not know the prudent thing to be said to a hero.