by RJ Martin
“And your sister is doing well?”
“Yeah, I guess.” That was true. I was really trying to stick with that from now on. There would never be another tote board. That was a vow I did take. The pastor motioned for me to sit. He did without waiting for me and took a sip from his pint of beer.
“Monks invented this, you know?” He sounded like he was passing me inside information, the way he used to do, but I wasn’t buying. “How are you adjusting to Lake Henry Regional?”
“Why does everybody ask me that? It’s just a school, Father.”
“You’ll be missed at North Country Central Catholic.” He was trying to be chipper, but his eyes looked really tired, like the raccoon had been boxing and got knocked out by a punch to each eye.
“You kicked me out.”
“No, your parents withdrew you, Jonah.” His usually powerful voice, like he was talking for JC, was kind of raspy too.
“So you would’ve let me stay?”
Father Dom’s ears started to redden. “That decision was above my pay grade.”
“You mean God?” Maybe Mrs. Tack hesitated because she thought he might start on the whole being gay is disordered stuff.
“Not God, Jonah,” he said, and I exhaled, happy my old mentor wasn’t going down that road. “Just men dat think they are.” He took a hearty sip that left a mark on the sandpapery-looking skin between his honker of a nose and thin lips. “I know I’ve got to keep this short.” Father Dom glanced over his shoulder and looked to the door. “Did we ever talk about Jonah?”
“Bible Jonah?”
“Yes.”
“I know the story, Father.”
“Humor me.”
“Jonah didn’t do what God wanted, so he got eaten by the whale.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but Father Dom had been nice to me since I could remember. “Then he was sorry, so God let him out, and he did what God said.”
“That’s the part most people know, and that might not be the most important part.” He looked me in the eye as he spoke. “Once God had the whale spit him out, the original Jonah was supposed to warn people if they didn’t get their act together, God would destroy their city.”
“And he did and they repented,” I said. “I know this, Father.”
“Jonah got the people to clean up their acts, okay yeah, good but that’s still not the point.” Father Dom tapped the table as he said each of his next few words. “Jonah wasn’t happy about it. He didn’t understand why he had to suffer getting eaten by a whale for this rotten bunch when his faith was stronger than theirs, when he was closer to God than they were.”
“Father, I’ll only suffer if I stay.” It wasn’t easy saying this to him, but I was all about truth now. It was my new thing after all. “If I go, then I’m not ‘disordered.’ I’m just gay.”
“I’m talkin’ about bitterness, Jonah!” Father Dom pointed at me and looked more old-neighborhood thug than servant of JC. “Not sufferin’!” He must’ve seen he was kind of freaking me out because he smiled right away and used his pointing finger to scratch his forehead instead.
“You know I got pinched when I was your age for boosting a car?”
“Boosting, Father?”
“Stealing, I stole a car. Not a secret I usually tell, but you recently laid a big one on me, right?” He put up a hand, still talking. “My buddy Charlie Iglio, we called him Iggy, he picked me up in this car, said it was his cousin’s and he’d borrowed it. I didn’t know from what at that age, so I got in. Iggy sees the cops, bolts, and your pastor either rats or does ninety days.”
“That’s why you like St. Dominick Savio, right?” I thought I was getting where he was going finally. “You were falsely accused.”
“Yeah, but that’s not the point.” He finished the last of his beer while I waited. “I was okay doing Iggy’s time because it would’ve been worse for him because he’d done it before.” He must’ve seen the question on my face, because then he answered. “Why did I buy the ‘cousin’s car’ line if he’d stolen one before?” He shrugged. “I was a kid and it was a convertible.” Father Dom sighed, getting to the point I hoped. “Juvenile Hall was not as bad as I thought in some ways. Food was okay, other guys treated me all right, but being locked in a room every night, all night….” He shook his head side to side and shuddered a little too. “It turns out I had claustrophobia, you know I didn’t like being cooped up. I had panic attacks, over and over. I got dehydrated from going to the bathroom and crying so much. Finally, my mother got them to let me out early because they thought I was messed up.” He pointed at his temple. “My father was already so ashamed of my getting busted and on top of that I’d not been a man about it.”
“He must’ve been happy you became a priest.”
“He was, Jonah.”
“But that’s not the point, is it?”
“Iggy never got his life together. A few years ago I get a call out of the blue. ‘Hey Dom I’m in a pinch, a good word from you might cut some ice with the judge….’” He trailed off, clapped as if announcing the (drum roll) point. “I hung up. You know why?”
“You’re still bitter.”
He nodded over and over like he was answering both of us. “The Bible tells us Jonah was very bitter about what happened but not if he ever got over it. We don’t know. But I know how bad bitterness feels, and I don’t want that for you.”
The door popped open, and Mrs. Tack entered laughing as Rusty whispered his mischief into her ear. He was infectious. They must’ve sensed the intensity of Father Dom’s counsel because both of them stopped at once.
“Is everything okay?” She studied my face.
“Yes!” Father Dom hollered as he got up to go, probably frustrated and hurt anyone would ever think it wasn’t okay to leave us alone together. He leaned over me now and spoke in a low but firm tone. “You know why I thought you’d be a good priest?”
“Because I liked being an altar boy?”
“That was part of it, sure. But more so because every time we have a food drive, or bake sale, or do anything to help people, there you are.”
“Lots of people do that, Father.”
“But you light up when you do. I can see how much it means to you. You let what others do or think snuff that out, then you lose, we lose, even they lose and they’re just too dense to know it.” He was still excited and spit a little when he talked. At least he wasn’t shouting. “That can’t happen wherever you decide you need to be.” He searched for my eyes through my still uncut hair. “Okay?”
“Okay, Father.” I really liked when we used to talk kind of like this. When he was preparing me for the seminary, my pastor acted like he was my sensei. I was going to miss him and my church. It was dumb trying to pretend I wouldn’t. That’s when the first real stab of bitterness crept into me, right at the moment he warned me not to let it happen. Father Dom raised a hand to bless me. I knew I wasn’t ever going back to Holy R, but I let him anyway. It seemed like the right way to say good-bye. We didn’t say anything else, and Father Dom gave Rusty a forced grimace of a smile as Mrs. Tack walked him out.
“Everything okay?” Rusty rubbed my back.
“Yeah.” Just feeling his touch, it was. As long as he was there, it would be.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“GOOD EVENING, Jonah.” Jace Naylor smiled like she did on television. “I’m so glad you could join us this evening.” No more than me. Dinner at home had become quiet and fast since the kiss that went viral. We didn’t address my being gay, stealing Angie’s boyfriend, pretending to be anointed, nothing. Luke and Mark did most of the talking and their favorite topics were why questions about where Angie was and why; asking about their new school and why they were going; and why I didn’t practically live at the church anymore. All of which made my parents and me even more uncomfortable.
Tonight my mother dropped me off, but we didn’t talk in the car. Luckily I’d have my license soon and not need any more awkward, silent rides. “Just be careful,” she sa
id. At least she didn’t wait to try to say hello. I think she was kind of over all things Rusty now, including his mom.
“Rusty will be right down.” Jace wore a long peach-colored dress that seemed more appropriate for some big charity party down in New York than dinner at her house with just Rusty, me and… Curly?
I took a step backward. “Don’t be afraid.” Jace took my arm. “Charles won’t be bothering you again.” She stopped and faced him like some actress in an old movie. “Will you, Charles?”
“No, Jace.” He extended a hand. “Hello, Jonah.” Charles must’ve been pretending to be American back at Holy R because his real voice had a British accent and his vowels were kind of nasally and a little longer than I was used to. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”
“I don’t think Jonah feels that way.” Rusty ambled down the stairs while pulling on a simple black pullover I knew cost more than my entire outfit that consisted of the blue blazer I’d only worn at Mémé’s funeral, my old NC3 oxford, and a new pair of khakis for school. “You owe my friend an apology, Charlie.”
“Yes, well, quite right.” Charles set down his glass and faced me. “It was a great story.” He made story have three syllables since the o got two. “No hard feelings, I hope.”
“It’s okay.” I shook his hand. What really bothered me was how did Rusty and Jace know this guy? No wonder Rusty knew he’d taken down the site.
Jace must have sensed it or I was being too obvious because she said, “I’m afraid it’s my fault our Mr. Spicer is here at all.” Jace poured me a glass of champagne. “You’re not driving?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Will your mother be angry?”
“Probably.” I sipped it and smiled. Truth!
“Why do all men your age rebel?” She cuffed me behind the ear. “I guess you need to scratch your antlers.” Rusty drained one glass of champagne and poured another. “Tell me, Jonah, have you ever attended a seder before?”
“No, ma’am. I don’t think so.” I wasn’t even sure what one was.
“It’s Passover dinner.” Rusty draped an arm around my neck. “Come on.” He led me out to the sun porch that was all glassed in and filled with a nursery’s worth of plants. Jace did nothing simply. “I told you it was a special occasion.”
“I didn’t know you were Jewish.”
“Jonah, I’m not anything.” Rusty put a yarmulke on my head. I always figured if I wore a beanie it would the scarlet one of a bishop. “This is Jace’s ‘getting back to her roots’ trip or something. She doesn’t really tell people, you know, because a lot of her fans are”—Rusty made quote marks in the air—“Christians.”
“Why did your mother say that English guy posting all that stuff about me was her fault?”
“Charlie works for Jace sometimes. She has no clue about social media and the whole cyber world. He’s an adviser, sort of, and helps her get the word out on an upcoming book.”
“Then what was he doing writing about me?”
“He’s also a journalist, and like he said, it was a good story.” Rusty pulled me against him. “He won’t do it again, I promise.”
He tried to kiss me, but I ducked it and broke his grip too. “How do you know?”
“Jace is letting Charlie follow her around on her book launch. He’ll have exclusive access. The New Yorker already bought it. That’s a big deal for a guy like him.”
“And?” I knew there was more. I could tell by his face.
“We’re getting ready to start.” Charles came for us. “Your mother asked me to tell you.”
Rusty took my hand and followed Charles back into the one big room that was the whole downstairs. There were lit candles everywhere that made the evening seem more like one of her novels than what I guessed was kind of like church for dinner.
Beside the table Mrs. Forge was holding a bottle of wine. She was in a formal-looking black skirt and white shirt. It was kind of surreal to be served by the bus driver’s wife, so I took Rusty’s champagne and finished it for him.
“Let’s all take our seats.” Jace sat at the end of the table. Rusty and I were on one side and Curly alone on the other, but there was an empty seat.
“Who’s not here?”
“Elijah,” Rusty said.
“Is he your mom’s boyfriend or something?”
Rusty cracked up, Curly too. “We leave an empty setting for the prophet Elijah.”
“For someone that’s not Jewish, you seem to know a lot about all this.”
“I never had a bar mitzvah or anything, but Jace and I have been to a few seders together.”
“Do you think, for this one night, darling son, you can call me Mom?”
“Of course, Mommy.” Rusty poured the wine. “We have to drink four glasses.” He filled mine only halfway. “Better pace ourselves.”
“Rusty?” Jace sat back with her hands folded on the table in front of her.
“Why is this night different than all others?” Rusty said. Where do I start?
During dinner I learned that it was good to bring strangers to a seder so they could learn about the Exodus. It sounded like a model of car, you know, Exodus Turbo, but really it was when Moses got the Jews away from the pharaoh.
More than once I caught Rusty looking grim, and Charles smirking. Every time it happened I beckoned Mrs. Forge to refill my glass. I was glad dinner was served on platters and not individual plates. The bus driver’s wife was pretty devout, and I worried that she might mess with my food if it was just me she’d be hurting. That was kind of a crazy idea, but I was getting drunk for only the second time ever when I thought it.
“ONE MORE.” I leaned back over the side of the dock and heaved up Jace’s surprisingly good homemade matzo ball soup.
“I told you to pace yourself.” Rusty rubbed my back. “Here.” He handed me a bottle of water. I took a swig and rinsed the acidy tasting puke from my teeth and mouth. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Did what?”
“Got drunk?”
“You don’t think Charles will put this in the article, do you?” I swallowed some of the water this time. I was already feeling a little less wasted.
“You’re off-limits now.”
“What about you?” When Rusty didn’t answer right away, I tried to stand, but he took ahold of the collar of my blazer and kept me seated. “Let go of me.”
“You might fall in.”
I stopped resisting. “I know you’re not telling me something.” I wanted to be angry. I felt like total crap, and part of me didn’t want to know any more. Especially because I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like it.
“You want me to say it?”
“No.” Then I would know.
“Jace is starting a book tour, and I’m going with her.”
“I thought you didn’t like sharing.”
“I think her fans are the ones doing it this time. See, Jace is going public about having a gay son.”
“That’s what Charlie is going to write about.”
“That and how brave it is considering my mother is so, you know, uncontroversial usually.”
“Why is she doing it?”
“For me.” Rusty shrugged. “She’s still my mom.”
“And why are you doing it?” I whipped my head to one side to get the air out of my eyes. “You can’t do this just for me.”
“At first I thought it would be a good way to get Charlie to leave you alone. Then I realized, you were so brave, you know, with the cameras and people. It’s not fair to make you do that and give myself a pass on the whole thing.”
“I’d rather you just stay here.”
“Jace isn’t taking the house.” He kissed the top of my head. “Too many bugs.”
“Your mother is….” So many words came to mind good and bad.
“I know.” Rusty sighed. “She is.” We sat there leaning so hard against each other if one of us moved the other would fall.
“New York isn’t tha
t far,” I said. “You can visit.”
“When I’m not in school.”
“College?”
“Yeah, in California. Jace pulled some strings.”
“So you’re leaving, leaving?”
“Come on.” Rusty led me down to the end of the dock. His now former house glowed like a warm fire behind us. “It’s only California.” He brushed his hand over my cheek. “And I’ll be back on vacations and stuff. I might even come up here sometimes.”
“Might?” I dropped my forehead against his chest.
“I will, Jonah.” He squeezed me. “That’s what I meant.”
“I could come out there and visit too, right?”
“Yeah, anytime.” I kept my head buried against his fancy sweater that I now resented like all the stuff an hour ago I thought was cool. “I have to do this now while she’s still there for me, you know? Even Jace has her limits.” I always thought eighteen meant freedom. In Rusty’s case, it was the reverse and good for him too. He needed his mom to snip one end of her son’s line. Floating to infinity wasn’t much better than being a stuck line segment.
“You want to hear something really wild?” He spoke so close, it tickled my ear. “I think being around your family made me want to get closer to mine. Even this seder was really kind of my idea.”
“So are you going to have a bar mitzvah too?”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“You did.”
“I was a little jealous, and I didn’t like you being somewhere you couldn’t be yourself.”
“And you’re cool in the temple?”
“We’ll see.” He smiled again for real, full dimples, and pulled up the collar on my coat to keep the night air off my neck. “I should get you home.”
WE RODE back to my house without talking. Rusty got halfway up our road before he pulled to one side and asked me, “Is there somewhere we can go?” I was really sad and tired, but the idea of not touching him again, ever, overwhelmed any other feeling.
I LED Rusty to the motel room that had synthetic bedspreads printed with the ugliest floral pattern you could imagine. “You work here?” Rusty seemed a little grossed out.