Caught in the Crossfire

by Juliann Rich

  I had never felt more privileged or more trapped.

  “Was it your foster parents’ idea for you to come here?”

  “Yeah, I think they’re hoping Paul can get through to me. Hell, maybe they just wanted a month without me around. Who knows? I’m not exactly a ray of sunshine back on the farm.”

  “Maybe the cows complained about you walking around naked all the time,” I joked.

  He laughed again. “Maybe.”

  “Hey, you could come and visit me after camp. You know, before school starts or over Christmas break. There are lots of bookstores by me.”

  “Is there an art gallery?”

  “Yeah, there’s the Walker Art Center. We could even take in a play at the Guthrie.”

  “Maybe. We’ll see.” The breeze picked up and tossed the treetops. “Any more news about your dad?”

  “No.” I looked away.

  “I’m sorry.” He read my body language, leaned toward me, eyes half-closed. Mouth so tempting. Moments before his lips touched mine, I remembered the reason I had brought him here.

  To end things.

  I pulled back and the fragile thing that had grown between us tore.

  “I’m sorry, Ian, I…promised Simon I’d help him set up for sculpture class. I gotta go.” I jumped to my feet.

  “I thought we were going to hang out.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I promised.” I hurried across to the bush with the hidden entrance to Porcupine Point and ducked through the opening.

  *

  I walked down the trail, soil and debris littering the path under my feet, and tried to forget how just being around him was enough to prompt a full military salute, so to speak. I stepped out of the forest and into the campground, more confused than ever.

  “Oh, hi, Jonathan!”

  The voice came from the direction of a huge oak tree next to the arts-and-crafts pavilion. Bethany sat alone under the tree, her Pass the Pepcid script in her lap, and waved at me.

  “Hey!” I walked over to her. “Studying your lines?”

  “Yeah, sort of.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Having a hard time with the memorization?” I sat down beside her. “Try reading your lines aloud. It helps.”

  “It’s not the memorization that I’m worried about. It’s this dance I have to do. It says right here: Salome dances seductively in front of Herod.” Bethany’s face flushed. She refused to look at me.

  “Oh yeah. That is a bit awkward.” An image of her full breasts spilling out of her pink bra flashed through my mind. I tried to imagine her dancing seductively. I looked at my crotch. C’mon!

  Nada. Less than nada.

  Zip.

  “It’s just that my parents will be there. And all my brothers and sisters. And I’m supposed to, well, dance seductively in front of you!” Bethany looked frantic.

  “Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay.”

  Bethany leaned her head against my shoulder. I remembered the last time I’d spoken those words to her and the kiss that had followed.

  Still nothing.

  “I’m sure you’re right.” She slipped her hand into mine. “I’ll just keep my eyes on you the whole time. That’ll be easy to do.”

  Small and smooth, so easy to hold, her hand fit perfectly into my hand. The sweet scent of the coconuts surrounded me. My stomach rolled. Not exactly the physical reaction I’d been hoping for. I stood and let Bethany’s hand slide out of mine.

  “I’m sorry, Bethany, I’ve got to go.” I walked away and didn’t look back.

  I am not gay! Ian’s laugh, the one that came out like a snort and meant bullshit, echoed in my head.

  I couldn’t argue with him.

  Miserable, I headed to my cabin. I needed to be alone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sunday morning dawned, and the whole camp gathered for Songs by the Shore. Aaron sat cross-legged in the shadow of the Cyprus cross, his guitar propped on his right knee. He hung his head forward as if he was straining to hear the music his guitar wanted to create. He played, slow and soft at first, matching the tempo of the waves. Without warning he jerked his shoulders and began to pick. Lightning quick. A duet, a trio, an entire choir erupted from his guitar. Aaron swayed back and forth, left and right, a slight smile playing over his lips. He was immersed in the music. I was too. The last note hung in the air, dying into silence.

  Paul began speaking as the long, graceful branches of the willow tree cascaded into the backdrop behind him. “I thought today we would talk about a tough subject. It’s one that no one ever wants to tackle head-on, and yet it’s a subject we all wrestle with in our lives.” He paused. “Our subject today is temptation. Let’s begin by talking about the things we find tempting.”

  “I almost cheated on a biology test last year,” Bryan admitted. “But I didn’t. I just felt tempted.”

  “I can never turn down chocolate,” Lily confessed.

  Pretty tame stuff, in my opinion. I glanced at Jake, remembering the porn magazines, but he stared straight ahead. For one crazy moment I heard a voice in my mind urging me to speak up. Then I imagined the chaos that would follow. I looked at Ian and felt my stomach lurch.

  “Temptation is a tough thing, kids. It comes in many forms as we’ve just learned, but all temptation comes from Satan whose primary goal is to drive a wedge between God and us. One of the most powerful temptations is sex. Yes, that’s right. I said the word and we all survived.” Paul chuckled at our shocked faces. “Why am I telling you this? Because it’s the truth and you need to hear it now, more than ever. Your bodies are not doing you any favors right now in this battle between God and Satan. Adolescent hormones create feelings that are new and confusing and powerful. God calls us to purity. He asks that we save ourselves until the day when we have entered into a sacred covenant with the person He has chosen to be our mate. On that day He will bless our union and all these feelings will become incredible gifts given to us by God. But make no mistake about this: giving in to temptation has the power to turn one of God’s greatest blessings in our lives into a curse.”

  The scent of Hannah’s Sunday morning brunch reached the lakeshore. Paul dismissed us with his standard phrase, Go in peace and serve the Lord. I sat by the shore, long after everyone had left, and prayed for answers, but all I heard was the lazy lapping of the water against the rocks. Finally I gave up and walked toward the dining hall where I knew both Ian and Bethany would be saving a seat for me. Though everything about me grumbled, especially my stomach, I had no appetite.

  *

  After a lazy Sunday afternoon, Aaron announced that we were getting together with the other guys’ cabins down at the fire pit. Ian, of course, managed to sit right next to me, his body pressing against mine.

  “Welcome!” Sean projected over the rumble of voices while Aaron and Simon passed out hot dogs and whittled twigs. “We know Paul gave you a lot to think about today during his purity talk. We thought it would be fun have some guy time, pig out, and then discuss any questions you might have. But first, let’s eat.”

  “Is this how you do it?” Ian plunged a hot dog on a stick into the fire. The flesh blackened and burst.

  “No, not exactly.”

  I laughed as Ian scowled at his charred hot dog. The constant tension that played itself out like a yo-yo, half the time drawing me to him and half the time pushing me away from him, eased as we laughed together. “See, watch. You’ve got to hold it close to the heat, but don’t put it in the fire. Unless you like cremated meat by-products.” I turned my stick and rotated the hot dog inches away from the direct flame until it browned.

  “Not so much.” Ian sniffed his burned-beyond-salvation hot dog. “What do I do with this?”

  “Give it to me. I don’t care if it’s burned,” Jake said. “I’ll eat it.” Ian handed him the stick with the charred remains. I gave Ian my hot dog and impaled another on my stick while he tore open the package of buns.

 
; “Mmmm, good. Can you make me another?” Ian tried to smile, but it didn’t work too well with his mouth full.

  “Nope, you’ve got to learn for yourself. Somehow, I think you can handle it. After that I’ll show you how to roast a marshmallow. Same principle, but a bit trickier.” I grinned, betting Hannah had also provided dessert.

  “Wonderful.” I had no clue whether Ian was complimenting my outdoor cooking skills or complaining because I was refusing to wait on him. Knowing him, probably both.

  *

  “So, I’m a big fan of s’mores, but I don’t think I can eat another. I’m stuffed.” Ian wiped the melted chocolate from his lips. He stretched toward the fire that had settled into a smoldering glow and inhaled the heady scent of smoke. His shoulders, usually so tight, relaxed, and for the first time since I’d known him, he looked happy.

  Sean stood and clapped his hands to get our attention. “Okay, guys, everyone done eating?” He looked around the circle. “Great! Aaron, Simon, and I wanted to get our cabins together so we could talk about the things that are important to you. Before we begin though, let’s invite God into this discussion. Simon, would you lead us in prayer?”

  “Glad to.” Simon bowed his head, and I followed his example. “Father, thank You for blessing Aaron, Sean, and me with the privilege of spending four weeks with these awesome young men. Thank You for this place that is so filled with exquisite examples of Your tremendous love for us. We are humbled. We pray that You use this time in a special way. Amen.”

  “Thank you, Simon,” Sean continued. “We’re going to start with some questions, just to get our conversation going. Please speak up. So, first of all: How did you feel about Paul’s talk today? Any thoughts?”

  No one wanted to speak first. I looked at the three-quarter moon that hung over us, reflecting the sun’s light from the other side of the earth. Nearly full-grown. So close.

  I shattered the awkward silence. “I think Paul wanted us to know that there are some things we may think we’re ready to experience, but we aren’t. Like sex.”

  “That’s good, Jonathan. Any other thoughts about Paul’s talk? Now’s the time to be honest, guys. We’ll tell it to you straight,” Simon said.

  “It was lame.” Jake threw a twig in the fire. “No sex before marriage. Like that’s a song and dance none of us have ever heard before. You know what I wanted to hear him talk about? Guys doing guys and chicks doing chicks. I wanted to hear Paul tell us what he thinks about that.”

  Me too, I thought.

  “Actually, you bring up an important issue.” Aaron nodded at Jake. “Homosexuality is a tough question for believers right now. Churches are being ripped apart by it. The Bible is clear about homosexuality, but our society tells us something quite different. What do you guys think?”

  “God made Adam and Eve. Not Adam and Steve,” Jake said. “I had a new English teacher last year and he was cool, you know? He let us choose where we sat and he talked to us different than the other a-holes we got for teachers. Most of the time school sucks, but his class was all right. At least I stayed awake. Then I hear he’s banging a dude. I mean, gross. If Paul’s going to talk about sex and all, I just think he should talk about that too.”

  “What do the rest of you think?” Aaron asked.

  “My mom says we should pray for gay people. She says that the Bible calls homosexuality an abomination. I looked it up and she was right,” Bryan said. “I think that means they’re damned. So we need to pray for them.”

  Simon scowled into the fire. He opened his mouth to speak, but Aaron beat him to the punch.

  “Your mom is absolutely right. The Bible does say that when a man lies with a man as he lies with a woman it is an abomination. It’s in Leviticus. But the Bible is talking about the act. Like any other sin, if a person truly is repentant, God will forgive and heal. It is the people who do not repent who risk damnation. That’s why we need to love people who are in bondage to sin and especially to this lifestyle. We are not to bully them or hate them. Rather, we are to shine God’s love into their lives and pray for them. You’ve heard the phrase Hate the sin and love the sinner, right?” Aaron asked. “That goes double for homosexuals.”

  I shifted my weight and stared into the fire.

  “What gives you people the right to judge?” Ian’s shoulders were hard and tight again.

  Simon leaned forward in his wheelchair, preparing to answer him, but then Ian stood up abruptly.

  “Ian, please sit down. I think you have something important to contribute to this discussion.”

  “Not likely.” He stalked off.

  It’s okay. Let him go. Simon mouthed the words to me. I couldn’t concentrate after that. My mind kept returning to Ian and the fire in his eyes, the anger in his shoulders.

  Back at the cabin, while Bryan fried more mosquitoes, Jake and Aaron continued talking about God’s condemnation of homosexuality.

  “What you need to understand, Jake, is that Satan is devious. He preys on the unnatural desires of the flesh to separate people from God.”

  My ears filled with a buzzing sound. I sprang out of my bunk, sick of the whole damn thing, and grabbed my camera and a flashlight.

  “Hey, Aaron, is it okay if I take some night pictures?” I stood at the door, determined to walk out regardless of his answer.

  “Yeah, sure. Just be back before it’s too late. I need to know everyone is safe before I zonk out.”

  “Understood.” Outside, the night hummed with a richness of life I’d only found along the North Shore and never anywhere stronger than at Spirit Lake. The air teased my skin, tickling one spot and then another. It ruffled my hair. My head began to clear. Light from the moon broke through the leaves overhead, sending down a dozen or so patches of light around me.

  I wandered from illuminated scene to scene, peering through my camera lens. A ladybug crawled on a leaf. Cool. But not right for black-and-white shots. I stepped out of the forest and into the campground. The moon was throwing one heck of a party and all the big stars had made an appearance: Cassiopeia, Big Dipper, Little Dipper, Orion, even the North Star. That view tied for first place with the scent of the wind in the category of Things I Love Best About Northern Minnesota. In the distance, the crickets called me. I walked forward, camera still in hand, studying the moonlight and the way it changed everything. Suddenly the perfect black-and-white shot appeared.

  I ran my hand over the scar on the smooth, gleaming skin of the birch tree. There was a story there.

  The light was tricky. I set my Nikon to manual mode and my shutter speed to thirty seconds. Kneeling on the ground, I made a tripod by resting my elbow on my knee. I zoomed in until the whole frame filled with the scarred skin. Click.

  I walked until I stood about thirty feet away from Spirit Lake and looked at the peaceful beach. The waves massaged the shore, smoothing over the broken surface of a hard day. I zoomed way out to see the whole beach. The dark sand and the lake that shone white with the moon’s reflection filled the frame. Click. No particular story, just a picture of a place I loved.

  “What gives you the right to judge?” A voice shattered the moment and drew my attention to someone standing on the beach. I walked toward him and then froze. Anger rippled off him as he kicked the Cyprus cross where we gathered for Songs by the Shore. His feet struck it over and over again. “Pray the gay away, my ass!”

  I stood, unable to take in the scene in front of me.

  “What are you doing?” I shouted.

  “Get out of here, Jonathan! This doesn’t have anything to do with you!”

  “Like hell it doesn’t, Ian.”

  He swiveled toward me. The wail of a loon broke through the night. Probably Edward. From far across the lake, Bella answered. I read hesitation in his eyes.

  “Ian, this thing between us, it’s wrong. We’ve got to put an end to this. You heard what the Bible says—”

  “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” Fresh anger erupted on his fa
ce. “Because of your God?” He growled. He hurled one last desperate kick. Deep indentations showed along the soft wood where his feet had assaulted the cross. He sank to the ground and sat on the sand. He turned his face toward the lake and refused to look at me. He raised his hand as if to wipe away tears. Edward and Bella wailed again across the lake, still lost, still searching for each other. I sat next to him on the damp sand.

  “You want to end it?” he asked. “Fine. Fuck it. It’s over.”

  “I still want to be your friend.” I leaned toward him. Close enough that our arms touched, and held up my camera. “’Cause I’m better with a lens. Remember?”

  “We were never friends.” He looked at me, the anger having drained from his face. Only the pain remained.

  I looked at the cross and then at Ian. The damage that had been done could not be undone. Each bore the scars, but Ian’s were written on his heart and in his eyes.

  “I thought I could handle it, the way you hide behind a faith that doesn’t want anything to do with the real you. But I can’t. Know why? Because you’re hiding even from yourself. You’re just as angry as I am. You’re just not as honest.” Ian took one long look at me and walked away.

  The camera felt heavy in my hands. Like a friendship that was too hard to bear. I hit the review button and zoomed in on the last shot, the full beach scene. There, in perfect-silhouetted clarity, I’d captured Ian: face contorted in anger…foot striking the cross. My hand trembled as I pressed the delete button.