White Lies

White Lies

Gio Alfino felt that God was with him since the day he was born. It had been a long time since Italy held the papacy, following a historically dominating run. The Americas passed around the title for a few decades, with an occasional European native in between, but never again an Italian. Growing up, Gio prayed every night that it would be him.

The Alfino family had a longstanding tradition of packing their bags - particularly the Italian flag, framed above the fireplace and lined with gold fringes - and taking the train from Portuense to Vatican City to watch the chimney blow its smoke into the cloudy skies. Gio’s Nonna would kiss him on the cheek, breath hot with nights full of wine and black smoke. Nothing could take his eyes off that balcony.

“Can I go there?” he would say, pointing a pudgy finger towards the outcrop of travertine stone, perched in his mother's arms. His Nonna would cry out and yell praises towards the sky, like the chimney bellowing hot smoke.

Despite his near predetermined fate, Gio lived a bland childhood. He went to school and got good grades. He made enough friends to have fun, but not be too busy. Most of all, he loved God and his younger sister. She was born eight years later, and he prayed over her cradle every night.

In a moment of play, she’d knocked over a glass vase, shattering shards and roses on the tile floor. Their mother had stormed into the room, scathing words at the tip of her tongue. Gio faced her with small fists clenched.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he said, voice wavering slightly, “I broke it.”

Later that evening, the truth broke that it’d been his sister. Instead of being continuously scolded for his negligent clumsiness, his mother pointed furiously at the ninth bullet on their children’s ten commandments chart, outlined in blue clouds.

Thou shalt not lie.

“I understand, Mama.”

Gio Alfino was going to be Pope. He couldn’t break the commandments, not even for his sister he loved so much. He cried over her bed that night- this time for himself, and for the forgiveness he did not deserve.

After five decades of study and dedication, he was nearly there. Cardinal Alfino was fluent in over seven languages, from Portuguese to German. He received his Master's in Physics from the Catholic University of America. He was the clear frontrunner in the Conclave, and the crowd at St. Peter’s Square was the largest in history. The Alfinos didn’t need to take the train that year. They still managed to bring along the framed Italian flag with gold fringes from above the flaking mantle.

Voting took time regardless. Despite his prominence in Catholic society, there were always sects of resistance who disagreed with his views for the future of the Church, and banded together to stall time. Cardinal Alfino would return to his quarters each night to pray for himself and his sister, and clear the traces of black smoke in his lungs that smelled startlingly different from his Nonna’s hot wine breath.

It was the 13th of March, less than a week after the Conclave began, when the skies turned clear and the smoke turned white. The newly elected Gio Alfino gathered his spiraling thoughts. He’d considered the name he would choose, the robes he would don, and the handpicked words of his first speech. But now those thoughts, once distant, were tangible. Those decisions were becoming real.

He steeled his mind and welcomed the warm calm of God’s embrace in his mind. It was time to enter the Room of Tears, to step into his role as Pope, and greet the world anew. He opened the door and stepped inside.

Stanza del Pianto got its name from the tears shed within from the immense emotions that came with being Pope, not from its awe-inspiring elegance. Nothing about the modest four walls would bring any normal person to tears, nor the wooden desk prepped for a signature. That’s what Gio had believed.

However, in addition to what he was told to expect, in the center of the room was a stool. It could be a chair if he spent any more time studying it. However, his attention was wholeheartedly stolen away by the figure atop.

Gangly tubes, like flesh roots, wrapped themselves around the wooden furniture. They sprouted from a singular eyeball the size of Gio, which bore into him with such a vehement intensity, it was as if the being was capable of witnessing all he is, was, and ever would be. Eyelashes and leaflets of flesh sprouted in irregular intervals, twisting hungrily, gurgling with life. It was undeniably alive, undeniably inhuman. The thick mucus covering its exterior dripped onto the floor, echoing in the haunting silence of the Crying Room- plop, plop.

When it spoke, there were no words, just an odd slur of warbles that entered his mind with meaning, “We have chosen you.”

Gio remained frozen.

“You will tell no one about us.”

Plop plop.

Blood pounded in his ears alongside the incessant warbling noises.

“You will keep making them believe in us. You will pray for us. If you don’t, you all die.”

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

Plop.

“You will be ours, Pope.”

The being disappeared, and with it, the immense pressure and noise. The wooden stool remained, dark and drenched in unknown fluids. Gio’s breath returned. The interaction lasted a minute. To him, a lifetime. He thought of his sister and the sound of a glass vase shattering. He thought of his mom’s frown, and the ninth bullet outlined in blue clouds.

When the newly named Pope Benedict XVII emerged on the balcony, onlookers cheered with relentless fury. He waved his hands to the crowd with a gentle smile and eyes wet with fresh tears. He saw a framed Italian flag lined with gold fringes.

His speech started humbly, “I never expected this day to come.”

At the time of his death, his sister sat down with national reporters to joke about the moment, recalling a conversation she’d had with the late Pope.

“He was so humble, you’d never even know he was a Pope,” she said with shining eyes, "Except in private. I’m telling you! One of our last moments together, I asked him what it felt like to be elected and give a speech like that, in front of the world.” She paused to chuckle and wipe the moisture from under her eyelids.

“I’ll never forget it, this is what he said- ‘I stared at the crowd and told the biggest lie of my life.’”