"Jeffery and I both grew up in east Van, before it became gentrified, and everything was still pretty hardscrabble. We lived near Trout Lake and we both went to St. Patrick's, the Catholic school in Mount Pleasant, and both our families attended the church there. There were these two priests, and I'm not going to tell you their names, but let's just say they both took an extraordinary interest in both of us. So, one day they presented us and our parents with the idea, because they needed their consent of course, to take us for a weekend to a certain Gulf Island, which will also go unnamed. There was a bed and breakfast there, and we were in two rooms, Jeffery and I were in one, and the two priests in the other."
"Was that when you both fell in love?" says Sarah
"No way!" says Jeffery, "We were teenagers. We were two closeted straight boys making all kinds of homophobic remarks and jokes while secretly ogling any cute guy in tight jeans and a tank top that came our way. Anyway, we are not going into a lot of detail, but we both saw something that we found quite, should I say, disturbing. So, instead of participating, we told our parents, who talked to the priests, and threatened also to talk to the bishop unless they would do one little thing for us."
"Which was?" says Sarah.
"They would both have to use church funds in order to bankroll our university education, since both our dads and moms were working poor and just able to pay the mortgage and put food on the table and very little else. They agreed to our little scheme, but only provided that we would get our post sec education in none other than the Seminary of Christ the King at the monastery across the valley, from where Carl rescued us a few short years ago. And the rest, shall we say, is.. history?..."
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