by Brian Meehl
At the top, my sneaks hit asphalt. I kept walking into the blowing dust. Soon I could see ten feet, twenty. The storm was letting up, or I was getting to the back of it. If I weren’t hacking, and my mouth, nose, and lungs weren’t stuffed with powdered doughnuts, I would’ve run.
I saw some cars. I figured I was back in one of the big parking lots. I’d come full circle. It was strange how few cars there were. Rockies fans must’ve known about dust-nadoes, or whatever they called them, and knew how to escape them.
A shape loomed in the distance: a cone of light, plowing through the haze. As it got closer, I saw they were headlights. Behind the headlights was something squarish and brown. It looked like a UPS truck. It didn’t make sense. What would a UPS truck be doing in a stadium parking lot?
A tear of light opened in the dust. I saw part of the ballpark. I looked back at the truck. Its lights had turned toward me. It was the camper, corn dogged in dust. I could see Ruah behind the wheel. I never wanted to lay eyes on him again.
23
The Faggot Bomb
I hurried toward the growing split of light. The passenger side of the camper drew alongside me. I glanced through the broken window. The cab had a matching dust interior. I didn’t look at him. I kept walking. The camper kept rolling next to me.
“I don’t care about the window,” he said. “I would’ve done the same.”
I stayed fixed on the widening light and the safety of the ballpark.
“Are you gonna stop and let me talk to you?” he asked.
“No.” My voice wheezed like an old man’s. I hacked and spat.
“Will you at least tell me where you’re going?”
I figured if I answered maybe he’d stop following me. “I’m gonna wash up and hitchhike.”
He waited for me to finish blowing bran-flake boogers out my nose. “The first part’s a good idea,” he said, “ ’cause right now, you’re almost as black as me.”
I really wanted him to go away. I shot him an ugly look. “At least my dirt comes off.”
His head jerked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nuthin.” I walked around a parked car to get some distance.
The RV swerved around the car and pulled back close. “Okay, lemme guess,” he said with an edge. “I don’t think by ‘dirt’ you’re referring to my skin color. It must mean you think I’m dirty on the inside. That I’m a faggot, a fairy, a fruit, pansy, queer, homo, poofta, cocksucker …”
I stopped. His voice trailed off as the camper kept going. He must have been looking ahead and not at me.
The camper rocked to a stop.
I braced myself. If I saw the door open, I was going to run. It was less than a hundred yards to the ballpark; I could see people moving around.
Something flapped out of the camper’s broken window. A white towel. He was dusting off the outside mirror. The towel sucked back inside; the camper backed up. It drew alongside me.
“Did I leave any out?” he asked. “Any other names you wanna call me?”
I glared at him. My throat clenched. If I was going to hurl again, there was finally something in my stomach to boot: dirt. “Abomination,” I said.
“Right,” he said. “Forgot that one. When you drop the faggot bomb you never wanna forget ‘abomination to the Lord.’ ”
It pissed me off that he wasn’t getting mad. He was just taking it. But what else was he going to do? He knew what he was.
He rubbed his hand over his head. “Okay, here’s the deal.”
“There is no deal,” I snapped.
He lifted his hands. “Okay, no deals. How ’bout I just tell you what I’d like to do? I’d like to drive you to the bus station and buy you a ticket to Providence, Utah, home, or wherever you wanna go. Can you trust me enough to do that?”
I stared at him for a sec, then looked away. “Why would you wanna do that?”
“Number one, the ticket’s not gonna bust my bank, and two, it seems like the Christian thing to do.”
He had no reason to be generous. Unless there was something behind it. Unless he’d say anything to get me back in his RV.
“While you’re making up your mind,” he said, “if you’re asking yourself, What would Jesus do? I’ve got the answer.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“Christ liked to chill with the scum of the earth, but there’s nothing in the Bible about Him chillin’ with a homo. So whether you decide to let me drive you to the bus station or not has absolutely nuthin to do with ‘What would Jesus do?’ It’s about what you would do.”
I wasn’t sure of my next move. Climbing back into the camper scared me. But I felt he owed me. He owed me for being a liar. He owed me for being so nice and acting like a friend, when, all that time, there was something else behind it.
He leaned toward the open window. “Billy, I’m not asking you to come over to the dark side. I’m only offering you a ride and a bus ticket.”
24
Thinking Twice
I opened the camper door and dropped my backpack. It kicked up a cloud of dust. You don’t think twice about sitting in dust when you’re already dusted. You do think twice about climbing in a camper with a homosexual.
As we drove out of the lot, I tried to ignore the fear and disgust coiling inside me. I focused on the expanding light and sky. The sun punched through the haze. The backside of the dust storm blew to the north. But it had left a mini version in the camper. The wind coming through the broken window stirred up a dust devil. Ruah rolled down his window to clear it out. He made a stab at conversation. “I’ve never seen a ball game called because of dust.”
I thought about saying I’ve still never seen a ball game, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to make small talk, or any talk. I just wanted to get to the bus station.
He tried again. “Your head’s probably full of worries and fears and questions, right?”
I stared ahead. “Pretty much,” I mumbled.
“So hit me with one of ’em.”
No way was I going to tell him about my worries and fears. But I did have a question. “Why would you wanna tell the world you’re gay?”
“I don’t.”
I wondered if he was lying. “Joe Douglas said—”
He cut me off. “I heard what he said, that I wanna turn the Cincinnati Reds into the Lavenders. It’s not true. I’d rather stay in the closet forever. But when I told Joe I was gonna switch agents he went berserk. He threatened to out me if I fired him.”
“And that’s why you’re thinking about quitting baseball?”
He nodded. “Pretty much.”
I could’ve left it at that, not asked another question, just got to the station and gone my way. But I fell for the temptation of curiosity. “What are you gonna do?”
He let out a breath. “Don’t know. All I know for sure is that I’ve reached a crossroads, and I can’t stand there the rest of my life. I gotta go one way or the other.”
I stole a look at his face; his eyes were fixed on the road. His tense expression made me wonder why they were called “gay.” “Queer,” yeah, but not “gay.” I shut my eyes.
After a few seconds he asked, “What are you doing?”
I kept my eyes shut. “Praying.”
“For what? Me to be straight?”
I kept praying. “Partly.”
“You’re that sure being gay is a sin.”
I finished and looked up. “It’s in the Bible. Thou shall not lie with mankind as with womankind: it is abomination.”
A laugh jumped out of him. “Yeah, good ol’ Moses in Leviticus, I know it well. And a couple of chapters later Moses lays down the punishment for men lying with men.”
The answer popped out of me like I was in a Bible bee. “They shall surely be put to death.”
He shot me a look, then scowled. “Mr. Bible Cred knows his homophobic scripture. So you’re saying what was true back then should be true today, right?”
“The Bible�
�s truth is forever.”
“Amen to that, brother!” He raised his hands in mock praise. “How ’bout we make all the abominations that Moses said deserved the death penalty true today. Anyone who commits adultery: death. Anybody who’s a medium or a wizard: death. Anybody who curses or blasphemes the name of God: death. Anybody who works on the Sabbath: death. A child who curses his father or mother: wash his mouth out with death! I say bring on all the death penalties. It’ll rid the world of politicians, porn stars, astrologers, Harry Potter, foulmouthed comedians, atheists, Walmart workers who show up on Sunday, and every snot-nosed kid who ever gave his mom or dad any crap. We’ll never worry about population control again. We’ll all be dead!”
He tossed his sunglasses onto the dash. “It’s what drives me crazy about fundies like you, and everyone else from the First Church of Cherry-picking. You pick verses that support your narrow view and ignore the big picture. You cut and paste the Bible till it’s as shallow as a rack of greeting cards. I mean, I keep waiting for the ultimate cherry-pickers’ Bible: The Good Book for Dummies!”
He pumped several breaths in and out, letting the last one out slow. “Okay, you got me going. Now it’s my turn to ask you a question, Billy Allbright. When you do the Galatians thing and try to get Christ to live in you, what does that mean?”
I wanted to not talk anymore, but I couldn’t. In the time it took to get to the station I had a chance to witness. “It means I walk in the way of Christ. I try to be as Christlike as I can.”
“So you’re wearing the T-shirt?”
“What T-shirt?”
“WWJD. What Would Jesus Do?”
“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”
“Did Jesus walk around in a WWMD T-shirt?” He answered my puzzled look. “WWMD: What Would Moses Do? Jesus wasn’t a lockstep Jew trying to be Moses; he was a rebel. So if you really wanna be Christlike, you can’t be a lockstep Christian marching around in a WWJD T-shirt. You gotta be a rebel too.”
“I am a rebel. That’s what me and my mom do. When we take on evil we break the law all the time.”
“That’s not being a rebel,” Ruah scoffed. “That’s being an enforcer, a terrorist, a jihadist who does nothing but tear down in T.L.’s name. You said it yourself; your mother drives a wrecking ball. I’m talking about the kind of rebel who believes Christ delivered us to a new law: faith. And that faith is in a God so loving He’ll stand by me even if I stand against Him. Even if I shout ‘God is dead!’ my faith tells me God’ll laugh and shout back, The report of My death is greatly exaggerated! God knows better than to let me kill ’im. You can’t shock T.L. God is greater than any sin I can commit, even if it’s being gay. T.L. isn’t gonna judge me by my lifestyle. He’s gonna judge me by my faith-style.”
He was speaking in tongues again. His words sounded like gibberish. But I had this feeling, the strange feeling I got when I heard someone speaking in tongues. Envy. I envied his lack of fear. His God didn’t have a grip on the smite stick.
Ruah started laughing like his little sermon had been a joke. He finally got a talking-breath. “Do you have any idea how freaky it is to be a ballplayer and have this kind of chatter in your head?”
“Maybe you should have been a preacher instead.”
“That’s the beauty of baseball. You can leave young, when there’s plenty of life down the road.”
He pulled the camper over. Across the street was a big building with a metal arch on top that said UNION STATION.
Ruah grabbed his shades and jumped out. “While I’m getting your bus ticket you can take a shower and change clothes if you want. Or you can clean up in the station. Your call.” He put on his cowboy hat. “Where’s it gonna be, Billy Allbright? Providence, back home, or someplace you haven’t told me about?”
I stared at my dusty, oil-stained backpack. I had survived a ride in a Dumpster, a brush with roadside killers, a dust storm, and driving a thousand miles with a homo. I sure wasn’t going home. But the idea of taking a bus to Utah didn’t feel right either. Something was bugging me, and I couldn’t nail it. I looked at Ruah standing outside, waiting for an answer. “Besides it being the Christian thing to do,” I asked, “why do you wanna buy me a bus ticket?”
He stared for a second. “You really wanna know?”
I nodded.
“Because you’re a stupid kid who doesn’t know shit about the world, and since I drove you this far I figure it’s my duty to get you a ticket. Does that answer your question?”
“Pretty much.”
“Got any others?”
I did. “If you buy the ticket with your nonny card will Joe find out, and think you’re going from Denver to Utah?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”
“I already messed you up with the cell phone. I don’t want him finding you ’cause of me.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll only find me when I want him to.”
I swallowed. My throat was still coated with dust scum. “What if I said I wanted to stick to our deal?”
He froze for a sec, then slowly took off his glasses. “Which deal is that?”
“You drive me to Providence and I keep fronting for you.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “If you mean it, you have to tell me why the hell you’d wanna do that.”
I took a breath. “ ’Cause I’m a stupid kid who doesn’t know shit about the world, and I’ve learned more in the past few days than I’ve learned in years.”
A smile tweaked his mouth.
“Also,” I added, “we didn’t finish the Huck Finn chapters I got in St. Pete.”
“No, we didn’t.” His smile disappeared. “But here’s the biggie. Are you sure you can stand driving with a fag?”
I shrugged. “As long as all the fag does is drive.”
He laughed hard, then pulled open the door and slid in. “Believe me, kid, you’re not my type. But if you wanna stick to our contract, I do too.” He started the engine. “Just don’t do like Huck and call me your nigger. Deal?”
I nodded. “Deal.”
I thought we might shake hands again, but he didn’t offer. It was fine with me. Like I said before, when you climb in a camper with a homo you’re always thinking twice about stuff.
25
Continental Divides
Back on I-70 Ruah said I needed to get cleaned up before we stopped for food or gas. “If someone sees you like that,” he said, “they’re gonna think you’re some kinda zombie fresh from the grave.”
I looked at my shorts and legs caked with dirt. I’m sure my face was just as bad. But given what I knew, I didn’t feel like going in the back and taking a shower. “I’d rather do it later.”
“Okay,” he said, “but in a few miles we’re heading into the mountains and the roads are gonna get windy. If you wait till then, you’ll get tossed around the bathroom like shoes in a dryer. Or you can wait till the next campsite. But if I were you, I’d take it when we’ve got a smooth ride.”
I realized he was dropping a hint. He knew I was paranoid about traveling with him and that I’d be more comfortable taking a shower when he was driving. “Okay,” I said, “I’ll get it over with.”
I took a quick shower. I couldn’t believe how much dirt washed off me and came out of my T-shirt and sneakers. After drying off, I shook out my cargo shorts. I had forgotten about the cell phone, and it flopped out. I made sure it was still off, then stuffed it back in the pocket. I wrung out my T-shirt and pulled it back on.
When I came out of the bathroom, Ruah asked if I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, except dirt. While making myself a PB&J, I made a vow. If he talked about homosexuality and the Bible again, I wasn’t going to say a word. On that subject I was taking a vow of silence. Huck Finn says what to do in situations like I was in. It’s when Huck’s trying to get along with the con artists, the king and the duke. But I never said nothing, never let on; kept it to myself; it’s the best way; then you don’t have no q
uarrels, and don’t get into no trouble. Reading more Huck Finn out loud was the perfect way to keep Ruah and me away from any more homo-Bible talk. And there was plenty more to read.
As we drove out of Denver, I read about the king and the duke’s latest con. They were pretending to be Englishmen who’d come to see their dying brother, but the brother had died before they got there, and they were trying to cheat the brother’s family out of its inheritance.
I stopped reading so I could check out the Rocky Mountains. We were driving up steeps so awesome it felt like we were climbing into the sky. The patches of snow in the highest peaks kept getting bigger and bigger. Looking at the amazing mountains, I kept thinking what a total fred I was for calling all the off-road biking I’d done “mountain biking.” It had been more like “anthill biking” compared to the grinders, jumps, and trail plunges I saw everywhere I looked. Part of me wanted to crawl out the window, camper-climb to the back, unstrap Ruah’s Trek, and take it for a high-octane, totally gonzo ride in the Rockies.
We passed a sign saying the next exit went up to the Continental Divide. I had a vague memory of Mom teaching me about it. “What’s the Continental Divide?”
Ruah scratched his head. “If I remember from school, it’s a line that was drawn to answer an age-old question.”
“What question?”
“If a tree falls in the mountains and no one’s around to hear it, does it make a sound?”
“That’s not what it is.”
“Really,” he insisted. “Everyone on the east side of the line believes a tree falling with no one around makes a sound, and everyone on the west side of the line says a tree falling with no one around doesn’t make a sound.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.
He pulled a confused face. “Or is it the line dividing people on opposite sides of the chicken-or-egg question?”
“Very funny,” I said. “You’ve forgotten what it is too.”
He grinned. “Okay, you’re right. Wanna go relearn it?”
Part of me wanted to keep going straight to Providence. And part of me wanted to go up to where the snow was. “Will it get us closer to the snow?”