Losing My Religion

by A. S. Tucker

  Besides, if I cut and run now, I’ll never get a chance to get to know Barker better. No—Jaden. It’s going to take some getting used to, calling him by his first name. He’s been Barker to me for as long as I’ve known him. But knowing he trusted me enough to give me that information, knowing that I could slip up and call him that in front of Fisher, means more to me than he could ever know. I can tell it was a big deal to him even if it’s the most common thing in the world. The fact that he put himself on the line like that just because I’d asked him to is huge. And then, when he didn’t flat-out reject my idea of him getting a burner phone so that we could talk more? I think I might finally be getting under his skin.

  But therein lies the problem. Jaden is obviously beginning to trust me. And it’s been clear from the start that we’re attracted to each other. But, if he’s dead set on remaining a part of that religion of his, then where will that leave us? I did some research. There’s no way in hell his church would be cool with him being with me even if I were to convert. It’s not a matter of different faiths. It’s the fact that we’re both dudes. And, in their eyes, it’s going against God’s will.

  I’ve always found it incredibly ironic that people who follow the teachings of a book written ten zillion years ago about a man who liked to hang out with prostitutes and thieves could be so judgmental over what two men might or might not do behind closed doors. I mean, if the words in that book are true, Jesus was the most accepting individual to ever walk the face of the earth. Yet I’m to believe he would cast me aside because I happened to be attracted to other men? I don’t buy it. It’s all a bunch of hypocrisy and narcissism if you ask me. Besides, that book also says black people are pretty much the spawn of Satan, and you shouldn’t wear cotton blends. If we can look the other way on those little tidbits of info, why not about whom someone happens to fall in love with?

  My good mood has evaporated, leaving me feeling listless and depressed. I lean back against Judy K’s couch cushions, not even caring that I’m probably wrinkling the pristine fabric. I let out a sigh, trying to make it obvious that I’m upset. Judy K was married for, like, forever. If anybody knows a thing or two about relationships, it’s her.

  She immediately picks up on my sour mood. “What’s wrong, Quinn? Something is on your mind. And don’t tell me it’s just the asshole who called you earlier this week. I might be old, but I’m not dumb.”

  I exhale loudly, dropping my head back on the cushion so that my eyes rest on the white ceiling. “I don’t know, Judy. There’s just this…”

  I pause for a moment, wondering how much I can really tell her.

  Judy might have shown me a different side of herself today, but she’s still old-fashioned. She told me all about her courtship with her husband, William. How they didn’t sleep together until their wedding night. How moving in together before they were married was never even a question. What if she hears that I’m gay and immediately kicks me out? I’d like to think she’s a little more open-minded than that. This is Hollywood after all, and even back in Judy K’s heyday, there were gay actors. They might not have been quite as open about it back then as they are today, but they were still there. Judy wouldn’t judge me solely based on that, would she?

  I decide to play it safe, test out the waters and sort of dance around the subject to try to get a feel for her reaction, before I come right out and say it. She smiles at me, giving me an encouraging nod when she sees I’m about to continue.

  “Well, there’s this person, someone I’m attracted to and I know is attracted to me. But there’s a problem.”

  She lets out a wistful sigh. “Oh, I do love a good lovers’ quarrel. Go on, go on. Tell me more,” she says, placing a hand on my knee and giving it a gentle squeeze.

  I lift the corners of my lips in a sad smile. “No, there’s no lovers’ quarrel. This person, well, they’ve admitted to me that they like me and want to get to know me more. And I feel the same. I can’t get hi—er, this person off my mind. But this person is sort of off-limits. To me at least.”

  “And why is that?” she asks, her eyes darkening in confusion. “You are a wonderful person, Quinn. Anybody would be lucky to have you.”

  I pat her on the leg. “Thanks, Judy. But, unfortunately, there are others in the world who wouldn’t agree. See, I live what certain people would call an alternative lifestyle. And those same people don’t necessarily agree with said lifestyle.”

  “Alternative lifestyle? Like what? You like to have sex with chickens?”

  I snort. “No, Judy. I like to stay away from livestock.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t get it then. What could people possibly have an issue with then?”

  I take in a deep breath. She’s looking at me with so much concern, like she’s ten seconds away from going out to find said people who might’ve hurt my feelings and teaching them a thing or two about manners. The same way she did to me on our first meeting. Her hand still rests on my knee, and I slowly reach out and cover it with my own.

  “Well, Judy, this might come as a bit of a shock. And I want you to know, this has no bearing on who I am to you or our friendship. I’m still the same Quinn you scolded out in the hall and then invited in for cookies.”

  She lifts an eyebrow at me. “Quinn, you’re starting to scare me.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I draw in one last breath for courage and then blurt it out, “I’m gay, Judy.”

  She doesn’t speak, doesn’t make a sound. I start to wonder if maybe she’s in shock or if she’s just too outraged to even dignify my words with a response. After a few moments of silence, I crack open the corner of one eye, peering over at her to make sure I didn’t just kill a living legend with a few simple words.

  To say I’m surprised by what I find would be an understatement. Anger fills her face, her brows furrowed in frustration. When I open my eyes fully and turn to her, she drops my hand and smacks me on the arm.

  “Quinn Owens. Don’t you dare do that to me again. I thought you were about to tell me you were involved in child sex trafficking or something equally horrific. I’m an actress, you know. We tend to be slightly overdramatic.”

  She smacks me a few more times for good measure, letting me know how thoroughly annoyed she is with my display. I’m so relieved that she isn’t kicking me out that I take her attack without a word. In fact, happy tears fill my eyes, and when she finally stops her onslaught, I pull her to me in a giant hug.

  “Why are you trying to smother an old lady?” Her muffled voice asks from against my chest. “I know I didn’t hurt you, so there’s no reason to try to kill me.”

  I let her go, pulling back and giving her the biggest smile I can manage. “I’m just so relieved, Judy K. I had no idea how you’d react to that bit of information. You smacking me and telling me you’re glad I’m not a sex offender was not even in the realm of possibilities that were playing through my mind.”

  She waves me off. “Quinn, don’t be silly. I wouldn’t care if you came over here and told me you were running off with Big Bird as long as you made each other happy and nobody was getting hurt in the process. Besides, you didn’t tell me anything I hadn’t already known.”

  Now, it’s my turn to shoot her a questioning look. She laughs, giving me a playful slap. As she smiles, I rub my arm, wondering if I’m going to have a bruise tomorrow. Who knew Judy K could be so violent?

  “Again, I’m old, not deaf. And the walls in this place aren’t exactly soundproof. I got quite a good show not long after you moved in. And don’t get me started on the other night. That poor boy from downstairs practically had to drag you down the hallway.” Realization blooms across her face when she says those words. “You don’t mean…him? The Mormon?”

  Her tone is so sensational that, under any other circumstances, I would laugh. But this hits too close to home. Because, even though she’s finding this incredibly amusing, that right there is why this will never work.

  I nod. “Jaden Barker. Also
known as Elder Barker, Mormon missionary extraordinaire.”

  She claps her hands together, almost bouncing on her seat. “Oh, I love it. He is such a cutie pie. So innocent. He and that friend of his have been by a few times. They’re such charming boys. A little odd but sweet nonetheless. They’re always willing to eat some cookies and keep me company for a few minutes. Of course, they always want me to listen to their message, but I just tell them that, at my age, you don’t fix what ain’t broken. God and I have an understanding. It’s worked just fine for going on eighty years now. I don’t see any point in changing it now. Your boy seems to get that. He likes just coming up and talking to me. That other one though, he sure is pushy.”

  “Tell me about it,” I say, my annoyance with Fisher evident in every word.

  “So, when are you two going on a date? Oh! You should take him to that new restaurant you were telling me about. The one with the jalapeño margaritas you’ve been dying to try.”

  I shake my head. “That’s the problem, Judy. I can’t take him anywhere. Going on a date with me would get him into a world of trouble.”

  She scoffs. “That’s silly. What could possibly be so bad about that boy going on a date with you?”

  “Well, remember those people I said had a problem with my lifestyle? Turns out, Mormons are at the top of that list.”

  She quirks an eyebrow at me. “You mean to tell me that he’d get in trouble for going out with you just because you both happen to have dicks? In this day and age?”

  Unexpected laughter bubbles up out of my chest. “I doubt they’d put it quite so eloquently, but, yes, that is essentially what I mean. Being gay is a sin in the eyes of his church.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud,” she huffs. “I thought we’d moved past this by now. This is the twenty-first century, not the era of King Henry. We don’t go around guillotining people for who they choose to love.”

  Another chuckle escapes my lips. “Well, I don’t think they’re that drastic. But I did some looking into it. He could get excommunicated if anybody found out. They’d kick him out, and that would cause problems with his family. I can’t ask him to do that for me. Not when we don’t know if this would even lead anywhere.”

  Judy chews on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Quinn. But this is just the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. God doesn’t care who you love. God would never judge you for being capable of love regardless of whom it was for. Not when there is so much hate in this world. Love is something to be celebrated. Not condemned.”

  I pull her back into my arms. “Thank you, Judy K. Those words mean the world to me. It’s people like you who make this world the amazing place it is.”

  “Ditto, kid. If this Jaden kid were smart, he’d tell those close-minded church people of his to shove it up their ass and be with you. Because you’re worth whatever repercussions he might have to endure. You have the biggest heart out of anyone I know. The only person I’ve ever met who rivals you was my William. And I snatched him up the first chance I got. He’ll do the same. Just you watch.”

  I squeeze her tighter. “I hope you’re right, Judy. I sure do hope you’re right.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  * * *

  Jaden

  My palms are sweaty as I wait for my opportunity.

  Fisher is over at the electronics counter, talking to the cashier about some new video game. I was shocked when we were at dinner with a ward family, the Murphys, the other night. A commercial came on, and Fisher dropped his fork and immediately turned his attention to the TV playing softly in the living room. He then proceeded to spend the next hour grilling the fourteen-year-old son about all the specific details. It was the most normal I’d ever seen him act. Who knew Elder Perfect would be into something as mundane as video games?

  When we entered the big-box store and I saw a display for the same game, I used it to my advantage, telling Fisher I needed to come back here to get some new socks. Lucky for me, the shoe department was right next to the electronics, and like a moth to a flame, Fisher gravitated toward the display of video games, just like I’d hoped.

  Now, with his attention fully occupied, is my chance. Giving him one final glance, more for my own reassurance than anything, I hurry over to the display of prepaid phones. I don’t look them over. I don’t read what the difference in each one is. I simply grab the first one my hand meets and rush toward the very back of the store. The customer service rep gives me a funny look as she rings me up, probably wondering why I didn’t just purchase the phone at the electronics counter, like I was supposed to. I give her some bogus story about a long line and continue to bounce from foot to foot as I hand over some of the remaining cash I have left from Dad. If she doesn’t hurry up, this whole thing will have been for nothing.

  I’m practically hyperventilating by the time she hands me the bag and my receipt. Stuffing them into my messenger bag as fast as I can, I hurry back over to where Fisher is still chatting with the cashier, grabbing some socks off the end of an aisle as I walk. Fisher gives me a brief look as I approach, his eyebrow lifting ever-so slightly when I join him.

  “Hey, Elder. I was wondering where you went. Did you get the socks you needed?”

  I hold up my alibi, giving the socks a little wave in the air. “Sure did. They didn’t have my size up front, so I had to go searching a little. Sorry. I didn’t mean to move out of sight.”

  Seemingly placated by my excuse, he nods. “No worries. Jeff and I were just finishing up our chat anyway.” Turning back to the man behind the register, Fisher gives him a warm smile. “You remember what I said, okay, Jeff? And, if you ever want to know more, you just give us a call at the number on the back of that pamphlet.”

  The man nods, grinning back at Fisher. “Will do, man. I hope you get a chance to play Fantasy Crusade before it’s completely obsolete,” Jeff says, chuckling at what apparently is supposed to be a joke.

  Fisher laughs good-naturedly. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get my chance. Besides, I think being on the good side of the Lord is more important than defeating King Blackhawk.”

  “Tell that to Princess Lilywhite,” he retorts.

  They both snicker at the comment. I have no clue who King Blackhawk and Princess Lilywhite are, but I’m guessing they don’t care much for each other. And, from the sounds of it, Jeff and Fisher would side with her.

  I’ll never understand gamers. But leave it to Fisher to toss in some proselytizing while he’s supposed to be shooting the bull with a random stranger.

  Fisher quickly wraps up his conversation, and we make our way over to the grocery side of the store. After grabbing a few essentials we are running low on, we’re back in the car and heading toward the basketball court.

  When Fisher woke up this morning and asked me what I wanted to do for our P Day today, I spit out the words so fast that I hardly understood myself. But it seemed to get the point across, Fisher laughing at my eagerness and telling me he wouldn’t mind shooting some hoops either.

  I wouldn’t say I’m good at basketball, but I’m not bad either. I’ve never been on any teams other than church ball, and they let everyone on. But I’ve always loved playing. And, as we pull up to the court, I realize just how much I’ve missed it.

  The place is empty, which isn’t odd, considering it’s before noon, and summer vacation just started. I’m sure, in a few hours, this place will be teeming with kids looking to pick up a game. I wonder if I can talk Fisher into staying that long, so we can really play. It’s doubtful, but that doesn’t mean I won’t give it a try.

  We play a few games of Horse, and I beat him horribly. It’s clear that, despite his preppy-boy good looks, he isn’t gifted in the athletics department—at least, not when it comes to basketball. He said he coached his kid brother’s little league team, so maybe he has some talent there. But then again, you know what they say; those who can’t do, coach.

  Fisher is a good sport about losing though, making fun of his atrocious shots more than
anything. By the last game, he’s sort of turned it around, trying to miss the hoop in the craziest ways he can manage. By the time the first few kids start trickling onto the court, my stomach is aching from laughing so hard.

  To my complete surprise, Fisher suggests we stay and play a few games. He sucks it up even more, totally hamming it up in front of the fourth-grade boys we end up playing with. The kids all love him, of course. And I can see why he’d be such a good coach. He might not be good at sports, but he’s excellent with kids.

  All too soon, it’s time for us to leave. When Fisher says the words, the boys all plead with us to return next week. We give them our assurances that, while we might not make it next week, we’ll give it our best shot to come back soon. I just hope it’s before I’m transferred. This is the most fun I’ve had the whole time I’ve been out here.

  Aside from those few stolen minutes with Quinn, that is.

  Back in the car, my thoughts return to Quinn and the phone that I purchased this morning. We’ve got a few more stops to make and then a few hours of planning to do before bed. I can’t wait to be able to bust that puppy out and let him know I actually did it.

  The night after our last chat, there was another sound at the door. No knocking this time. Just a brief rustling and then footsteps leading away from the door. When I went to see what was up, I found a folded piece of paper had been shoved under the slit in our door.