Into the Real

by Z Brewer

  “Praise be! That’s wonderful, Collins. You’ve done so well here. Your dedication to healing serves as an inspiration to all who are afflicted. Dr. Hillard and I will discuss releasing you.” Alice swept her eyes across the room, a smug look on her face. “Collins is a perfect example of what can happen with dedication to the treatment program.”

  Caleb crumbled and began to sob, his face buried in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I screwed up.”

  My heart shattered for him. “Caleb, you don’t have to—”

  “Bless you, Caleb. You’re right to admit your sin and embrace your guilt.” Alice flashed me a look of admonishment before addressing the group. “We’re going to have to pick this up tomorrow. Caleb is in need of prayers and further treatment. Keep him in your hearts while he struggles to find his way back into God’s good graces.”

  She hurried Caleb from the room, leaving Randall, Collins, and me behind. Randall said, “I wonder where she’s taking him.”

  The look in his eyes mirrored the worry in my heart.

  The rec room was empty when I arrived later that night. At least, I thought it was, until I spotted Caleb sitting all alone on one of the stools in the back corner, at the table where we’d played poker the night before. He was staring at the tabletop, his eyes shimmering. I was about to leave when he said, “I just want to get better, Quinn. I don’t want to be sick anymore.”

  I took a seat next to him. “I know what you mean. But what if the real sickness is people trying to convince us that being queer is wrong?”

  “Isn’t it? Wrong, I mean?” He met my eyes at last, his tears spilling over onto his cheeks. He was quick to brush them away and looked angry after he did so. If his parents had raised him to view being queer as an abomination, they’d probably also given him the false impression that real men didn’t cry.

  “Can I ask you something? About the kiss.”

  “If you’re going to ask who—”

  “I don’t have to ask who. I saw the way you and Lloyd looked at each other two nights ago. Before you went to bed.”

  His eyes widened, his face flushed red in embarrassment. “We didn’t sleep together, if that’s what you’re implying. I just . . . He’s . . . he’s really something, Quinn. I like him.”

  It took him a moment to speak again. The truth had a way of shining through to the surface, no matter what we did. “What do you want to know?”

  It felt intrusive to ask, but I had to. I needed to know if I was alone in my feelings, or if maybe what I felt was normal. “When you were kissing him, did it feel like you were sick? Did it feel wrong?”

  He didn’t answer right away. I was thankful for that. It wasn’t a question I wanted a quick response to. I wanted him to give it some thought, which he did. When he spoke, he kept his voice hushed, as if he thought someone else might hear. “No. What about when you kiss . . .”

  “Lia?” I shook my head, the memory of her lips on mine, her tongue flicking between them. “Not once.”

  “Now can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  He bit his bottom lip in contemplation, then said, “Do you ever feel . . . different? Like maybe you don’t fit in anywhere?”

  “Yes. But not just because I’m almost certain I’m into girls.” I’d said it. Out loud. Where even God couldn’t deny my admission. “But . . . well . . . there’s another reason, and I’ve never told anyone before.”

  “What is it?” Reacting to my hesitation, he said, “You don’t have to say if you don’t want to.”

  “Just between us?” He nodded. I inhaled. My head felt shaky and dizzy, like that feeling I got whenever I looked down from a really tall height. My words were whispers. “Sometimes—oftentimes, to be honest—I’m not so sure I belong in a girl’s body.”

  He took in what I was saying, and looked as if he were trying to wrap his head around it. He wasn’t the only one. “You mean you feel like you should’ve been born a guy?”

  “Not exactly. Sometimes a girl, sometimes a guy. Sometimes both. Sometimes neither.” It sounded strange when I spoke it aloud, but maybe that was because I wasn’t used to saying it, let alone sharing it with another person. “But you can’t tell anyone.”

  My heart hurt when I thought about Lia and the crack she’d made about transitioning before I left for camp.

  “Your secret’s safe with me.” His smile was kind. “Just so you know. I really believe that God loves us all. No matter what.”

  He leaned forward and gave me a friendly, supportive pat on the knee. As he sat back in his seat, he winced, as if he were in pain.

  I furrowed my brow. “Are you okay?”

  He refused to meet my eyes. His lips became a thin line. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d caught on to something that he’d been hoping I wouldn’t notice. “It just stings is all. I’ll be fine.”

  Images of Lloyd’s scars filled my head. Had that been Alice’s way of assisting Caleb with penance for his so-called sins? “Show me.”

  He hemmed and hawed for a bit, and when he lifted his shirt, he kept his eyes down. His back had three long gashes slashed across it. My fingers flew to my mouth in horror. “Caleb . . . that’s awful. Did Alice do this to you?”

  “No, it was one of the staff members. Big guy. Alice just stood there, praying over me, demanding that the demon of lust leave me and free my soul.” If we were anywhere else, the very concept would have been laughable. But here at Camp Redemption, demons were believed to be real, and whether that was true or not, our parents had given our caretakers the power to be demons themselves.

  “Stay here.” I hurried upstairs, keeping my footfalls as soft as I could manage. The house was silent as I moved through it. Everyone else must have gone back to their rooms already. The clock on the wall said it was 8:45. Almost lights out.

  Retrieving a small medical kit from the upstairs bathroom, I snuck back downstairs. I was sure I’d be punished if I got caught helping Caleb tend to his wounds, but I didn’t care. My friend was hurting, and if I could lessen that pain, I would, despite any risk.

  Caleb was still shirtless when I returned to him with the medical kit. He sat, stoic and silent, as I cleaned his wounds with care and applied Neosporin. I covered the larger gashes with bandages, and as I pressed them onto his skin, he grimaced. “Quinn?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What do you think is going to happen to you, after this?”

  I shrugged as I put the rest of the medical supplies back inside the kit. That was the million-dollar question.

  He wore a far-off look. “My parents told me to come home ‘right’ or not to come home at all.”

  At least I wasn’t alone. “Mine pretty much told me the same thing. Do you ever think they might just be scared for us?”

  “No.” He spoke with such conviction, it gave me pause. What if it wasn’t fear? What if I was just making up an excuse so that I’d feel less resentment toward my parents? “I don’t have to think it. I know it. They’re scared for us and of us. Scared of change, of the unknown, of accepting someone who represents something they view as harmful.”

  A creak in the ceiling drew our attention. Someone was up and walking around on the floor above us. Probably Alice, making sure everyone was in bed by curfew.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I really do think they’re scared that something bad might happen to us if we’re queer. And they have reason to fear that, to wish for an easier life for us. Look at the violence against LGBTQIA-plus people. Look at all the hatred and discrimination. Nobody would want their kid to face all of that. It’d be so much easier to have a kid who would be easily accepted by society. Cisgender and heterosexual. That’s what society wants.” My chest was tight with anger at the injustice of it all. The word “cisgender” balanced on my tongue in a bitter dance. My parents already had a hard time accepting me as a lesbian. How much more would they struggle to accept that their daughter identified as something other than female? Maybe that was
why I’d avoided exploring gender too deeply for so long. Because I was afraid to hurt them any more than I already had. Their fear had been pushing all these layers down deep inside of me. There were times when I felt like I didn’t recognize the person looking back at me when I gazed into a mirror. My reflection felt smaller than who I really was inside. At least I had Lia to accept my sexuality. But I had no one to accept my gender identity. I didn’t even have anyone to discuss it with. Until now. “Society is fucked up.”

  Caleb nodded. “My parents are more afraid they’ll be embarrassed in front of our congregation. They don’t have to say it. I’ve seen it in the way they act when I’m with them at church. The looks that tell me not to do anything remotely ‘feminine.’ The way they rush me home the moment any gossip starts.” He clenched his fists as he talked. “My dad actually told me he’d rather be dead than have a fag for a son.”

  “Oh, Caleb. I’m so sorry. That’s awful.” My mom and dad hadn’t gone that far. They hadn’t resorted to any slurs that I could recall. They’d sent me here, but they’d always basically been nice about it. It gave me hope that maybe one day their minds could be opened. But that day might not come for a very long time—if at all. “My parents haven’t said anything like that yet. They just don’t want me talking to Lia ever again. So even though she’s my best friend, I’m supposed to kick her out of my life, even if I did realize I’m not a lesbian.”

  “So, are you? A lesbian, I mean.”

  The shape of Lia’s body filled my mind. Her laughter filled my ears. My heart raced at the memory of her eyes. I didn’t mean to whisper, but I did. “I think so. I mean, yeah, maybe.”

  “Have you ever kissed a guy?”

  “No. What about you? I mean, before Lloyd?”

  His face flushed as he shook his head. The hint of a smile danced on his lips. “Nah. He was the first. But I’ve had girlfriends before, and I liked kissing them.”

  “Hey, Caleb? Can I ask you something weird? I mean, it’s okay to say no.”

  “What is it?”

  I cleared my throat. “Would you . . . would you mind kissing me? I just . . . I don’t know.”

  He smiled in understanding. “You wanna know if you’ll feel the same as you do when you kiss girls?”

  “Yeah.” I winced. “Stupid, right?”

  “Not even a little.” He smiled, but there was an awkwardness about it that I shared. “So . . . how do you want to . . . ?”

  “This is weird, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have asked. It’s so stupid.”

  Caleb shook his head. “No. No, it’s a good idea. And if it helps you, I’m all in.”

  The expression he wore was so sincere, so supportive. I said, “You sure?”

  With a nod, he leaned forward slowly. The air was warm between us, and his lips were so close to mine. I closed my eyes . . .

  . . . but then immediately opened them again. What was I doing? Kissing Caleb wasn’t going to unveil my inner truth. I already knew what I wanted and who I was.

  Caleb met my eyes. We shared a pause that lasted the span of a heartbeat before he said, “Something wrong?”

  “No. I just . . .” I shook my head. “No offense, but you’re not the person I want to kiss.”

  With a smile, he pulled his shirt over his head and covered his freshly tended-to wounds with care. “I totally understand.”

  I owed Caleb. Because the almost kiss had made me feel something. It made me feel longing to be reunited with Lia once again. It made me miss her. “You’re a good friend, Caleb.”

  “So are you, Quinn.”

  My truth filled me with confidence and conviction. I had my answer at last. I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t sick. And I was going home.

  13

  “We’re dropping like flies around here.” Valerie sat on the swing next to me on the small porch at the back of the house. Alice had suggested we share some reflection for the next hour about how heaven would greet us if we were to die today. It was a morbid proposal, I thought, and brought to mind that terrified look in Lloyd’s eyes when they’d carried him away. I wondered where exactly the Serenity Hut was, and what he’d have to say in response to Alice’s question.

  Valerie and I pushed with our toes and swung with ease. Each of us had a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade in hand. Flowers hung in baskets from the porch roof. If it had been anywhere else, it might have been a happy moment. An ideal afternoon.

  But we were at Camp Redemption. Nothing here was ideal.

  I said, “What makes you say that?”

  She sighed and drew her slender legs up underneath her, sitting cross-legged. “Lloyd’s in the so-called Serenity Hut, Susan is who-knows-where, and Collins is officially going home. It’s just you, Caleb, Randall, and me now.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. If everything went according to plan, I wouldn’t be here much longer myself.

  “We haven’t had the chance to talk much since you’ve been here,” Valerie continued. I was grateful for the change of subject.

  “Yeah, they keep us pretty busy, don’t they?”

  She paused, eyeing me, as if she was privy to a secret that we shared.

  “I probably should’ve asked you already, but what are your pronouns? I try not to make assumptions about a person’s gender. Besides, it’s not what you look like that matters. It’s what you feel like.” She took a sip of lemonade. Condensation ran down the side of her glass, and a drop of water clung to the bottom, glistening there. “It’s okay if you’d rather not say. I just want to show you respect.”

  “Oh. She and her are fine. I mean, I guess.” I’d never considered using a different pronoun. Even though the ones I did use had never quite landed for me.

  “I prefer she and her, but they and them are just as comfortable for me. I never much cared for labels or limitations.”

  They. It wasn’t a pronoun I’d ever heard a person use to refer to themself before. Something about it felt comforting to me.

  She flashed me an authentic smile that gave me the impression that she’d enjoyed my company so far. “You have a girlfriend at home, right?”

  “Yeah. What about you? Are you seeing anybody?”

  She took another sip of lemonade and shrugged, seeming not to notice that I was distracted. “There are a couple guys I like, but I’m focusing on school right now. I’m going to be a therapist.”

  “That’s awesome.” Reflecting on my conversation with Caleb, I said, “Hey, can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Sure.”

  It was a difficult question to ask. I didn’t know if I’d offend her or hurt her feelings or make her feel awkward at all, and I wanted none of those things. I was just curious. But at the same time, it was none of my damn business, and she had every right to tell me off and refuse to answer. “Is it hard being trans?”

  She didn’t answer at first, and worry filled me that I’d damaged our new friendship with five words that had seemed so very simple but weren’t in the big scheme of things. I opened my mouth to apologize, but she cut me off before I could.

  “Sometimes. It was really difficult coming to terms with it and coming out to everyone I know, and it was hard to look at myself in the mirror before I began physically transitioning. It’s easier now.” She flashed me a smile, which told me we were okay. More importantly, she was. “The parts of it that are still hard are mostly caused by ignorant people.”

  It had to be painful to be born into skin that didn’t feel like your own.

  I thought about that for a while. It sank into my pores, down through muscle tissue, into my bones. My voice caught in my throat for a moment. “If you could change who you are, go back and make yourself cisgender, would you?”

  With that same warm smile, she reached over and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Oh, honey, we can’t change who we are. We can only embrace it and celebrate it.”

  She spoke with wisdom beyond her years. Just hearing it put a small lump in my throat. “You do
n’t belong here, Valerie. You seem so sure of yourself. So in touch with your feelings and who you are. I wish I were so confident.”

  “I wasn’t always this way, Quinn. Sometimes it takes us a while to become the people we really are.” She shrugged. “I mean, look at me. I had a choice of hiding who I was until I was eighteen, or being who I really am, even if that meant fighting against my parents. And here I am, eighteen years old, and being myself out loud.”

  Her voice hadn’t dropped in tone, which told me she wasn’t afraid who overheard our conversation. I said, “If you’re eighteen, how are your parents able to make you come here? I mean, you’re technically an adult.”

  “When I was fifteen, my aunt got custody of me. She was so supportive. The best person I’ve ever known. Without her, I don’t know that I ever would’ve come to fully accept myself, and I know damn sure I wouldn’t have gotten on hormones so young.” The smile on her face wavered. “She got sick last year. Cancer. She died about four months ago.”

  It was hard for anyone to lose a family member, but I had a feeling it would be even more excruciating to lose a parent figure. “I’m so sorry.”

  The sun was still shining, but the sky seemed dimmer somehow. Less vibrant.

  “Anyway, I turned eighteen shortly after that, but not before my parents were granted a court order that said I wasn’t within my own faculties enough to make my own decisions. Basically, they told a judge I was crazy and the judge agreed that they should be in charge of me from a legal perspective.” The sorrowful look in her eyes turned quickly to anger, though you couldn’t tell so by her voice. She remained calm and poised. “And now I’m here. Until I’m ‘well.’ So they say.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll never understand how people can be so shitty to other people.”

  “Some people are. But you can’t let what they do affect what you do or how you behave.”