Common Sons

by Ronald Donaghe

  It seemed so long ago that everything had changed. And he wondered what had gone wrong. What he could have done to change it. He thought again of that first time in the pickup, their lovemak-ing a fevered rush to get at each other, so hungry had they been, as if starved, and then Tom’s shame, equally consuming. But it had all the qualities of a dream; nothing was distinct; just images that had become a memory, with a memory’s selective quality. But that first time he cherished now. Without that, of course, they would still be friends. But just friends, and he thought with a little relief that Tom may well have gone away to school as his father had planned.

  So what would he have changed? Maybe beating up those smirky faces at the dance. But he hadn’t; and that might have made matters worse, anyway. Sure as hell they both would have been beat up. Maybe, had he known about Paul’s relentless spying, he would have been more careful about skinny-dipping and making love on the pier, like learning to be careful about where he jerked off. Those were mistakes.

  He thought of Tom and hugged his pillow, surprised and a little disgusted that he had been crying. He laughed to himself, feeling ridiculous. If nothing else, Tom had made unbelievable changes. I just pushed and pushed until I got what I wanted, he thought. He didn’t even blame Paul Romaine, that little shithead, who tattled like a rat and made it impossible for Tom to deny the truth, or hide it. It would have happened eventually. Even Kenneth was not to blame. People in general hate us for what we are. I knew that. I knew it and I just kept right on pushing.

  In the dark, he sat up on the edge of the bed next to the open window. The night air was cool. The moon was out, waning now, but casting an eerie whiteness over the grass. Kitty Cat was curled on the edge of the windowsill outside. She looked at him, a shadow cat. “Meow-ow,” he said. “Come on, Kitty.” He opened the screen. She jumped down and ran across the lawn, switching her tail. “Don’t like queers, either?” He shut the screen. As usual, he was naked. The moonlight slanted across his body. His face was in shadow. His stomach shone in the light. His pubic patch was dark but, lying in the middle of the cluster of hair like an Easter egg, his cock showed clearly. He stared at it, fascinated by its ability to control his emotions or cloud his mind with its demands.

  He lay back, suddenly depressed, wondering if Tom was able to sleep, wondering, too, if his parents could. They had been given quite a lot to handle just back from their vacation. “Especially Mom,” he whispered, feeling guilty. He hated to see her cry, had never wanted to hurt her, and didn’t know how long it would take her to look at him like anything but a stranger. He thought of his sisters, married and having children of their own. How would they feel toward him? He would eventually tell them, too. Once his parents knew, what would be the point of hiding it from the rest of the family, the rest of the world?

  He drifted slowly into sleep, and the next sound he heard was a light tapping on his door. It was still dark, and he thought it was only a few minutes later. He lay there and watched the door opening slowly. His mother came in.

  “Joel, honey?”

  He pulled the sheet up to his chest. “Mom? What are you doing up?”

  She sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s time to get up. We have to get ready for church.” Her voice was gravelly, sleepy-sounding. She brushed the hair on his forehead.

  Her hand was warm. “I’m sorry, Mom, for hurting you last night.”

  She sighed. “Your father and I talked. I don’t understand, Joel. But you’re my son, and no matter what, I love you. You’ve never given me any cause to think you don’t respect me.”

  He tried to hug her, but she stood up. “We’ll talk about this, but right now we’ve got to get going. So please shower and get dressed.

  We’ll all eat a good breakfast. We’ll all feel better.”

  * * *

  Paul woke up, discovering that in the night he had soiled his shorts again with the sticky sperm. It had been happening more and more lately. He tore at them, hating himself, but blaming it on Tom and Joel. He pulled the shorts off and hid them under the sink in his bathroom. He would wash them out later, as he always did, let them dry and then toss them in the dirty clothes hamper. He showered and scrubbed his genitals, hating their ugliness. Soon though, soon he would be safe from Joel’s continual influence. He was glad now that Joel had ignored him in high school. His naked, sexual influence on Tom would also be destroyed finally. He hated Tom’s sin, knew he had to act without hesitation, to force Tom to break Joel’s hold on him.

  After showering and dressing, he felt better, cleaner, pure again in his new jacket. He thought of them at the pond yesterday. Boy did they put on a great show for the camera! He laughed silently, easily now. Everything had gone just fine; the film would be coming back from the Rexall Drug by Monday, and even though they may think he didn’t have proof, he did. Up to now he thought he had played the part perfectly. And soon, how much better it would be! Tom would really be repentant, truly the prodigal returned to the holy fold. And at least, Paul thought, I can save him from Joel, like I saved myself. He would be able to offer Tom consolation; Tom would crave it. But he would withhold it for awhile, letting the blackness of his activity make him feel utterly abandoned. Then like an angel of mercy, he would succor Tom, and slowly, very slowly, allow them to become friends.

  He could hardly wait! At breakfast he was happy but had to restrain it. As they always did before church, the Romaines prayed. Paul added his own voice to that of his father: “And we especially pray for Tom Allen, Father. Please guide him mercifully back to us, through Your precious son, Jesus, we pray. Amen.” He looked up at his parents, who were looking at him strangely.

  Paul sat in the back seat of the car with his leather-bound, much-used Bible. He hugged it to him, feeling its rich texture in his hands, smelling its succulent leather, its holiness, and he felt completely satisfied.

  At the church, the people milled around outside, moving as usual to the Sunday School classes. There was a chill in the air as he got out of the car. He parted from his parents and looked around for Tom. He didn’t see him at first but then—there! Yes! With Joel and his parents. How quaint. The heathen family. He managed to greet them all warmly, so warmly. Only Joel managed to ruin his exit, spitting on the sidewalk when he proffered his hand.

  Paul sat with the other guys in the Fellowship group. He felt a kinship with them now, their leader. They would become a circle unbroken again for Tom, in his need.

  Rarely had Joel sat next to his parents in church. The last time was when even the girls weren’t married and his oldest sister, Kathleen, sang in the choir. She was not a regular church member, but had been invited to sing a solo, “Ave Maria.” She had won all-state soloist that year. The family was delighted at her performance in the choir and just as proud to attend the Presbyterian Church for the special services in memoriam for President Kennedy. His parents cried shamelessly at Kathleen’s wonderful clear voice as it soared sweetly out over the audience that day. She had, in fact, brought the entire audience to tears. Joel sat in awe, loving his sister dearly at that moment. His other sister, Patricia, also sang with the choir. He saw her rise with the rest of the choir and felt the tremendous pulsing of sound that followed the solo. Never had he seen his sisters more beautiful.

  Today, he felt the same tremendous anticipation as he sat with his parents, but for more serious reasons. Last night, after Joel’s father had talked to him and Tom in the living room, Tom called Pete and they met him at the truck stop near the west end of town.

  Pete told them Paul was getting all the guys ready.

  “What guys? Joel had asked.

  “The…the disciples,” Pete said. He turned to Tom. “Tell him.”

  They were eating hamburgers, sitting in a red vinyl booth by the plate glass window. It was so dark out that their reflection showed clearly in the fluorescent light.

  “They call themselves the disciples,” Tom explained. “Actually, I mean we.Pete, me, Paul, and a few other guys.”


  “Why?” Joel asked. “Are there twelve of you?” He thought the whole idea a bit silly, the same old weirdness again.

  Pete said, “There are thirteen, if you count me, but I’m not really one of them.”

  “Anyway,” Tom said, “the big deal about us being disciples is just a joke. Sort of, except Paul takes it seriously. Our only problem is, we don’t have a Christ figure.” He laughed and Pete giggled. But Joel couldn’t see much humor in it.

  “These are the guys Paul’s telling? Man, are they going to be a nice tight little group,” Joel said.

  Pete looked more helpless than Tom, more frightened. He was looking up at Tom expectantly. He adores Tom, Joel thought, but felt not the least resentment.

  Tom smiled across the table at Joel. Then he looked down at Pete’s expectant face, treating him much like a kid brother. “It’s true what Paul says, Pete. Maybe not all the things he’s said, because I never got kicked out of that dance. But the rest is true. Joel and I are homosexuals.”

  Pete’s adoring expression didn’t change, except to register determination. “I thought so, but I was afraid to ask the other day.or tell you that you’re not alone, Tom.” He wrinkled his nose and ducked his head. He looked over at Joel, his blue eyes shining and eager. “You guys! I always hoped it was true. It’s what I wanted with Kevin. When I told you what Paul told Kevin about me being queer, I was serious. And the thing is, it’s true. It was about the biggest chance I ever took, to see how Tom would act. I knew then, but I just couldn’t ask.”

  Tom took a breath and sighed, relieved. He grinned. “I’m glad we’re all able to talk about this.” Then he looked sad. “But Pete, I’m going to be in trouble. Everybody at church will know, and like Joel told me once, if we hang around together, people will think you’re like us.”

  Pete shrugged. “I’m not going to stay in this town forever. You bet I’m leaving, man. I can hitch a ride west with one of these truckers. I’ve seen guys do it. They just come in here with a bag and hang around until a friendly trucker comes along. That’s my way out, man. So let ‘em talk.” He sat up and looked grim. “But right now, you’re in for it at church. Paul’s been very busy since seeing you and Joel yesterday. I got wind of it from Kevin.”

  “What do you mean?” Tom asked.

  Pete’s eyes darted over at Joel, then came to rest on Tom. “He’s going to get you, man. He says he saw you two having sex out in the open.”

  “We know he did,” Joel said. “That little sneak. So?”

  “Well, he’s telling everybody how disgusting it was. And he also says he can prove it. He says your father will believe him this time.”

  “One good thing, though,” Tom said. “He’s not going to catch me by surprise again.” Then he laughed. “It gives me a little time to plan what I’m going to do.”

  “But are you willing to leave the church for Joel, if it comes down to that?”

  “Of course I am, Pete.”

  Pete looked relieved. “That’s good, because Paul is depending on you not being willing to. He’s all set to have the disciples minister to you.”

  “And what kind of stink is he planning at the church?” Joel asked.

  “I don’t know. He said he’s waiting for something he sent away for.”

  Tom sighed. “Thanks a lot, Pete. I just wish he’d get it over with.” He picked up his hamburger, looked at it, and dropped it onto the plate. “I can’t stand waiting.”

  * * *

  Joel realized he’d been in a daze. He looked around the church, full to capacity. The crowd was quieting. An occasional cough cracked the dull milling sound. He squinted at the title of the sermon: THE CAPACITY TO FORGIVE. Right, he thought. Odd how the preacher manages to direct things so dead center.

  His own father’s face, the profile, revealed his inner calm. Joel noticed his eyes, coolly appraising the crowd, the church, probably studying the physical structure of the building as much as anything else. His mother was more nervous, not about being there, Joel thought, but, like him, she was full of anticipation. He was sitting beside her, smelled the clean smell of her perfume, very faintly, the soap she used. He leaned over and whispered, “You okay?”

  She patted his knee. “Considering, yes.”

  On his left, Tom sat quietly, but occasionally Joel felt his knee add the slightest pressure against his. Everything between them felt fine, and even with Paul sitting ahead only a couple of pews, Tom didn’t seem nervous at all. He had even managed to greet

  Paul as if nothing was afoot. And even more surprising, Paul had conquered his own habitual sneer. A real snake, Joel thought. Knowing he was about to ruin Tom’s reputation, thinking he had the advantage of surprise, he was as outwardly friendly as the other people who greeted Tom. And how many of them were silently nursing the secret, the vicious rumors?

  “The Capacity to Forgive!” boomed the preacher, finally.

  His mother sat up. His father put his arm around her. Joel listened intently. The sermon and the other rigmarole passed quickly. When church was over the preacher made a point of thanking the Reeces for attending. His father talked quietly, praised Tom’s work for the last week, and shook hands with those farmers he knew.

  Strange as it seemed, Joel had to leave Tom. They had decided to act as normally as they could. If they had freaked out, they decided, they might get pushed to do something stupid. They managed to spend a free minute at the car before Joel left.

  “You’ll be all right?” Joel asked.

  “I’ll be absolutely fine, Joel. I’ll call you, I bet, as soon as you get home, and we’ll plan to get together later. Right now, I’ve got to prepare for everything. Pete’s going to hang around with the disciples until our dinner at the Sundowner and see what else Paul is planning.”

  “Okay,” Joel said. “I still don’t like that idea, though, confessing to all those guys. Man, that’s asking for it.”

  The Reeces’ car was parked across the street from the church in the shade of an elm tree. Tom looked around casually at the crowd. Joel’s parents were still at the church and, for the briefest moment, he and Tom were by themselves. Tom leaned into the car window and kissed him softly on the mouth. Their hands touched, and Joel held Tom’s warm fingers. Tom squeezed back. “I love you.”

  Joel watched him go. He pounded softly on the arm rest in the back seat with a clenched fist, waiting. Waiting.

  * * *

  Edna prayed alone, unable to attend church. She prayed for Kenneth. She prayed for her husband, as she always did. She clutched her poor tattered Bible, and she prayed especially for little Eddie, especially for him.

  Kenneth’s anger had only increased when she tried to talk sense to him. He was plumb crazy with hatred for Joel. She had given up talking to him after he had hit her again. “You shut up, Ma!” He backhanded her across the mouth. Henry had hit Kenneth for it, but Kenneth only laughed and slammed out of the house.

  She touched her upper lip with trembling fingers. It was swollen now, tight with blood straining to burst as she spoke her prayer. She didn’t pray for herself, feeling too unworthy.

  When she finished, she fixed a meager breakfast of biscuits and flour gravy for the children. After breakfast, when they were playing and Henry was starting in on his whisky in the living room, she slipped out the kitchen door. Her steps were weary, but her heart kept her moving one step at a time. She would not beg for help, but would instead ask Douglas and Eva to press charges for what Kenneth had done to their house. She could at least do that. It would keep Henry away from Kenneth and keep Kenneth from causing more trouble for everyone. If Henry also beat her she would take it, knowing that he would be powerless at least against the police.

  * * *

  Joel felt awkward leaving Tom at church and, as they were driving away, he turned around in the back seat to look until the church disappeared. His father laughed but there was no amusement in his voice. “He’ll be okay, Son. I think he’s level-headed.” His mother touched h
im lightly on the knee from the front seat. He appreciated her touch but couldn’t shake the sluggish weight of dread that settled somewhere in his guts.

  “Dad? What d’you think his father’s going to do when he finds out?”

  “Don’t worry too much about what he’ll do right now. Just keep it in mind that Tom and his father first need to work things out—at least, try to. Don’t you agree?”

  “No!” Joel said. “I mean, of course, but I don’t think it will do any good. What if he grounds Tom again, like he did last time? They don’t talk like we do, Dad. They don’t.”

  “But Joel, Tom hasn’t been exactly honest with his parents. Let him have that chance. If we rush in and fight his battle for him, he won’t get a chance to try standing up for himself. And you know he’s got to have a chance to face his father. I can see where Tom is forcing things myself, Joel. If it’s as you say, and you two have been.having relations, Tom does have to face his church, maybe not up there in front, but inside himself. And if you don’t stand back a little, let him have a chance to win his fight, I wouldn’t give much for the kind of person you might see in Tom after that.”

  “Joel.” His mother looked weary. Her hand left his knee and clutched the back of the car seat. “What you boys did is serious.” She frowned at her husband. “I don’t think your father has got that in mind. He won’t say it’s wrong, what you’re getting into with your friend. But the preacher has a right to tell his son it is. And he also has the right to try and cure him.”