by Scotty Cade
Mrs. Whitley straightened her shoulders, left Abel holding the bag of poop, and huffed off, dragging Chester down the sidewalk.
“Good day, Mrs. Whit….” Abel’s voice trailed off when he was sure she could no longer hear him.
“Is this what you deal with on a regular basis?”
Abel nodded and looked around for a trash can. “Day in and day out. In all fairness, not every member of the congregation is like that. But most of the seniors were all raised with fire and brimstone. And to them there is only one Word. One truth.”
“I don’t know why anyone would associate with a church that is so judgmental and not welcoming to everyone and all walks of life.”
Abel walked to the trash can, then glanced over his shoulder. “It’s all I know. I’m a very spiritual person, and the Southern Baptists accepted me as a teenager. When I decided to serve God, doing it in the Southern Baptist Church came naturally. I mean… it was all I knew.”
Cullen decided to let that one go. For now.
Abel tossed the poop bag and came back. He sat down and crossed his leg at the knee. Cullen sat as well. “So where were we?” Abel asked.
Cullen knew exactly where they were. “We were interrupted before you got a chance to answer my question.”
“What question?”
“I asked what your thoughts are regarding homosexuality.”
“I already told you how I was raised and what my church believes.”
“If you ask me, I think you’re avoiding the question.”
More silence.
This was suddenly very important to Cullen. He wasn’t going to let it go. “Come on, Abel. What do you believe?”
Abel was starting to fidget. His hands were resting in his lap, and he was rubbing them together, over and over. He finally said, “I don’t know what to believe. I mean… I don’t want to believe that homosexuals will burn in hell, and I don’t want to believe God hates them, but I just don’t know. I struggle with this every day, Cullen.”
I struggle with this every day. The words rang through Cullen’s head over and over. Why does he struggle with this? Because of his beliefs and his church? Or could Abel be questioning his own sexuality?
Cullen’s thoughts were interrupted when Abel spoke again. “I did some research last night on the Episcopal Church and their beliefs.”
Cullen sat up straight. Can’t wait to hear this. “And what did you find out?”
“Well, for starters, back in 1976, the General Convention of the Episcopal Church declared that ‘homosexual persons are children of God who have a full and equal claim with all other persons upon the love, acceptance, and pastoral concern and care of the Church.’ Since then, faithful Episcopalians have been working toward a greater understanding and radical inclusion of all of God’s children. And I know there are gay priests and even gay bishops.”
I’m impressed. Cullen nodded. “You did do your homework.”
“So your church welcomes everyone with open arms.”
“Yes and no,” Cullen said. “It’s not that simple. And for the record, it’s no longer my church. But to clarify, the Episcopal Church welcomes all to worship who have good intentions and pure hearts. We are all sinners, so the church also welcomes people with not so pure hearts, but who are repenting for sins committed. Rehabilitating, so to speak. But everyone—and I mean everyone, no matter who they love—is held to the same clean-living standards. In other words, homosexuals are held to the same standards as heterosexuals. Repenting thieves and doctors alike, all to the same standards. The main mission of the church is to restore all people to unity with God. Does that make sense?”
Abel’s face lit up. “Of course it makes sense. It makes perfect sense.” Abel glanced at his watch. “Damn! Where did the time go? I’m so sorry, Cullen. I’ve got ten minutes to get to the church to meet with a bride and groom about their upcoming wedding.”
Abel laid his hand on Cullen’s thigh and then nervously looked down at his hand like he wished he hadn’t done that. But to his credit, he didn’t yank it away. He raised his head until their eyes met. “I know we just met, and I have no idea why, but I haven’t opened up to anyone like this before. You’re just… nonjudgmental and so easy to talk to. Please, don’t go. I really wish you would stay on a little longer.”
Cullen broke their gaze and looked out over the water. He realized Abel had opened up a great deal today, but he was convinced there was more. Maybe, just maybe, if he continued to work with Abel, Cullen might get the entire story. His gut told him Abel was struggling with his sexuality and trying to fit into a church and a religion that had no tolerance for anyone who didn’t fit their predetermined image of a good Christian. And in Cullen’s opinion, if Abel was struggling with his sexuality, he was in a no-win situation. I can’t leave him high and dry.
When Cullen looked at Abel once more, Abel was watching him with hopeful eyes. The sweetest, most beautiful, hopeful emerald-green eyes he’d ever seen. Cullen didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. “Okay.”
“You’ll stay?”
“Sure. I’ll stay a little longer. Under one condition.”
Abel smiled. “Name it?”
“We continue to talk openly,” Cullen said. “If we’re going to be friends, you need to promise to be completely honest with me.”
Abel’s smile suddenly faded, and he started gnawing on his bottom lip. He appeared to be seriously contemplating Cullen’s condition and what the end result might be. Hesitantly, Abel smiled again and finally whispered, “I promise. But… it’s a two-way street. If I’m gonna be completely honest with you, then I expect the same in return. No more ‘it’s a long story’ as an answer.”
“Fair enough.” Cullen smiled. “Okay, I know you need to go, but why don’t you come to my boat tonight? I’ll prepare dinner, and we can talk more.”
“Okay,” Abel said.
“Dock C. Three-quarters of the way down on the right. The boat’s name is T-Time.”
“You a golfer or royalty?”
“Neither. In the T-shirt business.”
Abel stood. “Oh. Got it. What time?”
“Six thirtyish?”
“See you then. Bye, Cullen.”
Abel walked away with a little pep in his step.
“Abel!” Cullen yelled. “Anything you don’t eat?”
Abel looked back over his shoulder. “Nope.”
Chapter Five
CULLEN REMAINED on the park bench long after Abel had left, mesmerized by the way the sun shimmered off of the waves, making the Southport Inlet appear to be an ocean of sparkling Swarovski crystals. It was mildly blinding but beautiful at the same time.
Cullen was stretched out, hands linked behind his head, trying to enjoy the warmth of the fall sunshine, but the word stupid kept interrupting his relaxation. Then it hit him. What did I just agree to? I’m the one who’s supposed to be helping Abel with his life, and now I just agreed to be completely honest with him about mine. You know what that means. Telling him you’re gay, about why you left the church, and the hardest part, opening up about Cole.
“Stupid!” he cursed under his breath.
But in all fairness, how could he expect Abel to be honest with him if he wasn’t honest with Abel? Didn’t a friendship work both ways? Did they have a friendship? Maybe the beginnings of one. But if Cullen hadn’t opened up to anyone about Cole in the last year and a half—or why he’d left the church for that matter—why did he think he was ready to do it now?
After about an hour of figuratively smacking himself on the forehead over and over again for getting himself in this situation, Cullen gave up and left the familiarity of his park bench and the Riverwalk behind. He strolled toward the marina but stopped when he reached North Howe and heard the sound of children’s laughter.
Something about the sound instantly transported Cullen back to the Church of Saint Mary of the Harbor in P-town and the children’s Sunday morning Bible study. He felt his lips begin
to curl at the edges until a full-on smile consumed his face. He remembered the sounds he’d heard every Sunday morning before service as parents dropped off their two- to five-year-olds. “Bible study” for them was more like arts and crafts time, but the themes always surrounded stories from the Bible, and the kids really loved it. Most Sundays, right after service, Cullen would say good-bye to his congregation, and he and Cole would run down to the basement classroom and spend a little time with the youngsters.
Without fail, when they reached the halfway point in the stairwell, he and Cole would hear the children’s laughter coming from the classroom. The laughter today, much like back then, warmed his heart. He and Cole had always wanted children.
No! Determined not to ruin this moment, Cullen mumbled. “I’ll leave that disappointment for another time.”
Cullen looked at his watch and decided he had time to take a little detour. He followed the laughter and the aroma of grilling hot dogs and hamburgers until he reached a quaint little square. On the corner was a sign that read Franklin Square Park. In the center of the space stood a small gazebo, and he noticed a young couple setting up for what looked like a puppet show. There were at least two dozen little children running around and jumping up and down in anticipation.
Lingering at the edge of the park, Cullen stopped and took in the scene. It could have been Anytown, USA. The massive moss-covered oak trees spread over the grounds like a natural green leafy canopy. Underneath, picnic blankets spread out everywhere, and moms entertained toddlers and infants while dads played ball with the older children. It looked like a scene right off a Hallmark greeting card. Suddenly trumpets sounded, and all the kids stopped what they were doing and ran to the gazebo. They instantly settled down in front of the small puppet stage and waited patiently.
Apparently not their first time at a puppet show!
Music started to play, the curtain went up, and two marionettes dressed like a young prince and princess started singing and dancing, bowing and leaping. Cullen smiled as the kids squealed with delight. Everyone was having such a great time. A seemingly perfect Saturday morning in a perfect little town, with perfect little families, all leading their perfect little lives.
A stab of the familiar pain hit Cullen hard. His mood quickly turned solemn, and he was once again reminded of how much he’d lost. He had no husband, no children, not even his faith. Losing faith and leaving his church had been as hard as losing Cole. The church had been his life until God added Cole to it.
And then took him away, Cullen reminded himself. God and his church had turned their backs on him, and now he had nothing.
Am I crazy? What kind of person begrudges people who are living and enjoying their lives? His smile disappeared. Crazy, bitter people! Just! Like! You!
In danger of being suffocated by the loneliness and emptiness, he turned and started walking away. As the aromas, music, and laughter faded into the background, Cullen’s first thought was to go back to the marina, ready his boat, and simply shove off. Charleston was looking better and better, and he could escape all of this if he just left. That was his plan for a few blocks. At least until his rational brain reminded him that he would be doing exactly what he’d done for the last year and a half: running away! And hadn’t he told himself over and over he was tired of running? Wasn’t that the reason for this trip, to try and bury his demons and attempt to get on with his life?
And what about Abel? Cullen had initiated this, whatever it was, and he’d promised he would stay in Southport a little while longer, so he couldn’t turn his back on Abel. Not now. That would be no different from God turning his back on Cullen. Abel needed something to hold on to. And Cullen realized he did as well. Cullen’s faith was already gone, but maybe he could help Abel hang on to his.
BY THE time Cullen reached his boat, his mood had improved, but only slightly. He was still alone and bitter, and his endless mood swings were getting the best of him.
Although he was really trying to get his life back on track, the oddest things set him off, and he was beginning to think he would never feel well or whole again. He had turned into a sullen Jekyll and Hyde, and he loathed himself for it.
Luckily, he’d once again talked himself off of the proverbial cliff. As he sat in the saloon feeling sorry for himself, he made an attempt to focus his attention on what he had instead of everything he didn’t have. You have a nice home in P-town. You have a thriving business. You have T-Time. And Cole left you set for life. You have so much more than most!
It dawned on Cullen that maybe he did want to do better for himself. And if he were being honest, he thought that Abel might have something to do with that. Abel needed him. And above all right now, Cullen needed to be needed.
Abel! Suddenly remembering he’d invited Abel to dinner, Cullen rummaged through the galley. He was running low on supplies, so he made a grocery list, showered, and took the marina’s courtesy car to the local Food Lion to buy supplies. Since he’d agreed to stay a few more days, he bought enough groceries to last until then, and he would deal with the next leg of his trip when the time came.
When Cullen returned, he put his groceries away, straightened the saloon, and cleaned the heads. When all his chores were done, he was exhausted. He glanced at the clock: 4:15.
Cullen lay across his bed, intending to only close his eyes for a few minutes, but his body had other plans.
Cullen was again sinking into the dark abyss. His lungs were already filled to capacity with cold, salty seawater, and after the initial shock and the flailing that ensued, his body settled down and accepted its fate. It was just a matter of time now before his brain followed the rest of his body and started to shut down.
He blinked twice against the dark, murky water, and a shred of hope momentarily filled his heart. Cole! He could vaguely see Cole, an arm’s length away, sinking along with him. Cole had a soothing and peaceful smile on his face, and despite the iciness of the water, it warmed Cullen to his core.
Cullen used his last bit of energy and reached out for Cole. To be holding on to each other when they sank to their final resting place together was Cullen’s last hope. But as he had been for the last year and a half, Cole was always just out of reach. But wait. Not this time. Cole reached out to him and took both of Cullen’s hands in his. He mouthed, “Not your time, love. Live!” Cole looked up to the surface.
Cullen tried to make his lips form a word. One word: “No!” But it was no use. He was barely hanging on to life. Suddenly a smiling Abel appeared next to Cullen and hovered, like an angel of sorts. Abel’s expression was filled with such compassion and love that it confused Cullen. Cole placed both of Cullen’s hands into Abel’s and smiled. “Live!”
Abel propelled Cullen toward the surface. Cullen wanted to fight, but he had no energy. He didn’t want to leave Cole. Didn’t want to live without him. He kept looking down as he was being forced to the surface. Cole was disappearing, getting smaller and smaller but still looking up, arms stretched, smiling. “Live,” kept reverberating in Cullen’s brain. He and Abel broke the surface.
Cullen sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air. He grabbed his throat and sucked in several ragged breaths. Forcing himself to relax, he inhaled deeply and slowly until his breathing was again under control. His eyes were wet with tears, and his hands were shaking. He jumped out of bed and paced nervously.
“What the hell was that about?”
His brain was on overload. Cullen had no capacity to even attempt to analyze that dream, so he went to the head and splashed cold water on his face. He passed the hand towel over his features and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were swollen and red, and his skin looked pale and almost pasty white.
Jeez, Cullen! What’s happened to you?
With no answers other than the obvious, Cullen decided to call Abel and cancel their dinner. He was in a foul mood and wouldn’t be good company for anyone, let alone a man of the cloth. But then he remembered he and Abel had never exchan
ged telephone numbers. Use your head, Cullen! What about a telephone book? Directory assistance? He picked up his phone and dialed 411. Then he cursed under his breath and ended the call when he couldn’t remember Abel’s last name. Wyatt? Wesley? Webber? Oh hell, just forget about it.
Almost on autopilot Cullen ventured to the galley, seasoned two filet mignon steaks with salt, pepper, and a little Worcestershire, and set them on the counter to come to room temperature. He poked holes in two potatoes, wrapped them in foil, and seasoned and doused some asparagus in olive oil. Prep done, Cullen went back to his cabin and made his bed. With nothing more to do, he sat on the edge. He ran his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes.
Cullen, you’re barely making it through each day, but with each one you do get through, you’re spiraling a little more out of control. This has got to stop or you’re not going to survive.
Chapter Six
“THIS IS as good as it gets.” Abel looked at himself in the mirror one last time. He was wearing khaki shorts, boat shoes, and a turquoise polo shirt that, as someone in his congregation had commented, made his eyes look more blue than green. He leaned into the mirror and stared at his eyes, but he couldn’t see it. Oh, well! Vanity had never been one of his sins, but tonight for some reason, he wanted to look especially nice. He stepped back from the full-length mirror and closed his closet door.
With a bounce in his step, Abel ran down the stairs of his two-story, church-owned bungalow on Caswell Avenue, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors of the big empty house. Abel grabbed a bottle of wine off the kitchen counter and opened his front door.
When he’d stopped at the wine store and asked about a nice wine, the skeptical eye of the cashier, who just happened to attend his church, was daunting. While the woman had helped him make his selection, Abel had explained that he was a guest at someone’s house for dinner and wanted to bring a gift. Her scowl had softened a little, but she’d still eyed him warily. Was there nothing he could do in this town without falling under the watchful eyes of his congregation? He shrugged it off. Comes with the territory, I guess. Abel slid the key into the lock and turned the deadbolt.