by Jeff Erno
“I think it takes a special kind of brain. God gives us all different and unique gifts.”
“Are you involved with the music at the church?” He motioned with a tilt of his head that they should move to the living room then led the way. Steve followed him in and they took their seats on either end of the same sofa.
“I’m not a music director, but I guess you could say I’m musically inclined. I do play piano and sometimes sing.”
“As a soloist?” Eric raised his eyebrows, impressed.
“Occasionally. What about you?”
“Oh yeah, but only in the shower.” They both laughed and then grew serious as their smiles gradually faded. Eric took a deep breath. “Actually, there’s something I should tell you. I mean, I know you’re very involved in the church and everything and you’ve invited me to attend.”
Steve looked at him, his expression sober, conveying genuine interest. “Not every interaction has to be for the purpose of proselytizing. I’d never try to force my beliefs on anyone. There are so many different religions.”
“It’s not that. I’m truly non-religious. I guess you could call me an agnostic. The thing you should probably know about me, though is that…”
Steve continued to look at him, waiting.
“I..uh…I probably won’t ever attend your church.” Why couldn’t he just say it? Why couldn’t he just state the obvious, that he was gay?
“Can’t we still be friends?” Steve smiled. “Maybe we don’t have a lot in common, but we have this.” He motioned to the dogs. “We have Drake and Felix, and we both love unsweetened iced tea.”
Eric returned the smile. “True that!” He held up his glass for a toast, clinking it against Steve’s. “So…you say you have Tuesdays free mostly? Want to have dinner or something?” What the living hell is wrong with me? I’m not really asking the man on a date!
Steve thought for a moment then nodded, smiling broader than ever. “That’d be awesome!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Eric picked up the handset from his desk and rang his assistant. “Philip, do you happen to have the quarterly analysis complete for Richardsons’ yet?”
“Uh, yeah. Just finished it. I sent you an email, but I can bring you the printed report if you want.”
“You know what? That’d be great. They’re pretty old school and want to see everything in print. I’ll review it, attach a note, and mail it to them.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll bring it right in.”
Philip smiled broadly as he pushed open Eric’s office door. “Here you go, sir.”
“Philip, you don’t have to be so formal. You can call me Eric.”
“Oh…sorry.” Still smiling.
“You’re in a pretty good mood today.” Eric rose from his seat and extended his hand to receive the paperwork. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you were…you know…in love.”
The kid’s cheeks instantly reddened, and Eric laughed. “Well, no. Not exactly, but kinda. I did have a date last night.”
Eric smiled. “Anything you want to share?”
Philip took a step closer and leaned in. “You know the new girl, the one who works downstairs? Rachel.”
“Yeah, I think so. She’s the lucky girl?”
Philip grinned once more. “It’s kind of too early to tell. We went to church together.”
“Oh really? You went to church on a date. That really is sort of old school…more like courting.”
“Yes, sir…I mean, Eric. Yeah, Rachel’s pretty wholesome, and she’s really sweet. But that’s okay. Exactly the kind of girl I want.”
“Hm. That’s interesting. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I met someone yesterday too, someone who’s also kind of religious like that. We’re going out tomorrow. You know I’m gay, right?”
“Yes sir…um…everybody knows that.”
“Well, this guy I met, he’s a preacher.”
“Really?” Philip laughed. “And you think he’s…ya know…like you?”
“Ummm…” Eric slowly sat back in his chair. “I don’t know for sure, but I kind of think so.”
“Well, you said you have a date, so he must be.”
“I asked him out to dinner, but I didn’t say it was a date.”
Philip shrugged. “Seems pretty obvious. What’re you gonna do on your date? Go to church?” He chuckled.
“You know, that’s a good question, but I just might follow your example. Not church…but the old fashioned courting thing. He might like that.”
“Sounds like a plan, but sir, if I may be so bold, can I say one thing?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“I’m not all that religious myself, and this church we went to last night, the preacher was awesome. But they’re not all like that. Some religions, especially around here, are downright hateful. Just be careful, okay?”
“I appreciate that, Philip. Don’t worry, first sign of hate speech or homophobia, and I’m out. He doesn’t seem the type though. I think he’s one of the good guys.”
“Let me know how it goes. Good luck, sir…I mean, Eric.”
Chapter Seven
It’s not a date.
Steve examined his reflection in the bathroom mirror. One thing he’d always cared about was his appearance. He understood vanity was a sin, and he had to walk a fine line. God wanted us to take care of ourselves physically, to be good stewards of our health and appearance. And as a pastor, a representative of both the church and of Jesus, he had to be conscious of the importance of looking respectable.
At least those were Steve’s justifications. But since puberty, if not before, he’d been perhaps a little more focused on things that most other guys weren’t—things like dressing fashionably, keeping his hair just so, taking care of his skin and teeth. In high school, he got a job and bought his own clothes. He often didn’t have the money to buy the expensive name brands, but he figured out how to improvise. He discovered thrift stores and resale shops and learned how to look for really nice things he could acquire cheaply in order to build an enviable wardrobe.
His job as a pastor usually allowed him to dress nice. On many occasions he had to wear formal, conservative attire, but even then he knew how to pull it off so he didn’t look like a poor boy playing dress-up in a cheap suit.
For the most part, his family didn’t understand him. None of his older brothers even owned a suit, and his dad, a mechanic, didn’t know the difference between premium cotton and burlap. His mother, ever aware of the specialness of her son, believed his affinity for fashion to be part of his unique makeup as a young man of divine selection. He’d been chosen by God for the ministry, in her view, and that’s why he was different. That’s why he had a more sensitive heart, a softer demeanor, a more refined presence than the other men in her life.
Sometimes this uniqueness rubbed people the wrong way. Sometimes it even annoyed people within the church. Often the male church leaders were of the opinion that boys should be raised as protectors and defenders of their property, family, and country. They believed in clearly defined, traditional gender roles. Boys needed to be taught to toughen up. That’s how they learned to lead.
That’s probably why Steve had worked so hard to present himself as masculine. He’d started working out back in high school in order to develop physical strength. Though he wasn’t gifted in competitive team sports, he found ways to participate in non-contact athletic endeavors. He’d been in track and played tennis, and he jogged or worked out every day.
He wasn’t mechanically inclined either, but he forced himself to learn from his dad the basics of auto repair—how to change a tire, jump-start a battery, change the spark plugs. He’d even changed his own oil on occasion. And he took a woodshop class in high school in order to learn the basics of how to handle tools.
But in his heart of hearts, he just wasn’t the same kind of man as his dad. By nature, he wasn’t competitive. He wasn’t the classic hunter-gatherer who liked to fish and ki
ll deer. He didn’t enjoy watching or playing football. He liked playing the piano. He liked fashion. He loved musicals and show tunes. Steve’s favorite class in high school had been drama. He’d even starred in one of the school plays, The Sound of Music, playing the male lead, von Trapp.
As he stood there in front of the mirror examining his reflection, he felt much more like his true self than he was with Pastor Mathers. He opened the medicine cabinet and removed a bottle of cologne. He dabbed some on his wrists, then applied some to his neck.
But why? Why was he so obsessed with his appearance? Why did it matter that he smell so good? It wasn’t a date. He was going to dinner with another man. That was all. They were friends who shared a love of dogs and unsweetened iced tea. Period.
But Sunday night, it was Eric who had smelled so good. Steve could still remember the spicy scent of his cologne. And there was something inexplicably soothing about the man’s voice. Steve could’ve listened to him talk the whole night. His dark brown eyes, when he looked right at Steve, seemed to penetrate Steve’s soul.
Why did he feel this way? Why were the butterflies fluttering within him even worse than they did before a sermon? Why’d he feel so excited, so tingly?
The answer lay just beneath the surface. Steve actually knew the answer but couldn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t want to acknowledge it because he didn’t want it to be true. Yet he also couldn’t dismiss his feelings entirely. He couldn’t pick up his phone and cancel even though that’s what he should do. He should cancel because just being near this other man subjected Steve to feelings and temptations that were oh so dangerous. These temptations, were he to surrender to them, could destroy him. They could ruin his life.
“This is ridiculous.” He shook his head. “Eric is my friend, and we’re going to dinner. That’s all. Nothing more.” He straightened his posture and squared his shoulders as he stared himself in the eye. “Whether you like it or not!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Wait, you’re going out with that preacher guy?”
Eric held the phone out two feet from his ear and could hear Kathleen clearly even without putting it on speaker.
“Honey, you just spent the last two years pining for a young guy who had no interest or ability in committing…or even returning your love!”
“It’s just dinner—”
“Say for a second this Scott guy—”
“Steve.”
“Steve, whatever. Say for a second this Steve guy really is interested in you, how’s he going to deal with the fact that he’s part of a religion that considers you to be an abomination?”
“I don’t even know if that’s true. I don’t know exactly what they believe. I was looking on the Internet this morning, and there are some very positive, gay-affirming Baptist organizations. Not all of them are haters, ya know.”
“Sweetie, you’re in Cuttlerville! Trust me, that Baptist church is not one of those enlightened, liberal-minded groups. They’re the same ones who protested the anti-discrimination clause being added to the city’s bylaws. They’re the same ones who endorsed the anti-gay, so-called religious freedom laws. They aren’t champions of gay rights!”
Eric sighed and slid onto one of the kitchen barstools. “It’s just dinner, and I promise, I’ll talk to him about it. If he says he believes gay people are an abomination, I’ll kick him to the curb.”
“And what if he doesn’t? What if he’s one of those closet cases who wants to have it both ways? What if he says to you he loves gays but then goes back to his church and preaches you’re all going to burn in hell?”
He reached up to rub his temple. “Kathleen, you’re making my head hurt.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt, baby.”
“Look, I’m not gonna let that happen. I can’t explain it, but there’s just something about him. Yeah, I know he’s the same age as Max, but Steve is different. He has such a kind heart. He loves animals. He likes my iced tea.”
Kathleen burst into laughter. “Your iced tea? Please!”
“Seriously, I just sense something about him that’s different than anything I’ve ever encountered. I think he’s genuine, and at the very least, I think we can be friends.”
“And you can sit around sipping tea and petting your dogs while he reads from the Bible.”
“Hon, I have to go. I have to get ready.”
“Eric, wait! Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad.” Actually, he was kind of pissed. He was annoyed his best friend was lecturing him rather than reassuring him when he was already anxious. Wasn’t she the one who’d encouraged him in the first place, when she’d seen him talking to Steve Sunday morning?
“I love you, and I can’t help try to protect you. Of course I support you, no matter what you do. I hope you have a wonderful time on your date tonight.”
“Not a date.”
“Your dinner with another man …whom you’re attracted to…and think is special, unlike anyone you’ve ever encountered.”
“Now you’re mocking me.”
“No, I mean it. I do support you. But I love you enough to always tell you the truth, to say what I’m really thinking.”
Sometimes that doesn’t seem the best policy. Sometimes it’s best to just keep your negative opinions to yourself.
“I know, and I love you too. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Have fun, baby. I love you! I really do.”
Chapter Eight
Steve and Felix walked from their house to Eric’s condo, arriving about twenty minutes prior to the designated meeting time. Steve stopped on the corner, a few feet from Eric’s home, and pulled out his cell phone.
“Oh shoot, Felix. We’re early.” His compulsive punctuality had plagued him all his life. He couldn’t help it. He was always so afraid of being late that he overcompensated. “I suppose we could walk around the block.” He looked down at his pooch who did not seem excited or agreeable to the suggestion. Boxers didn’t exactly relish exercise.
Steve sighed. “Oh, all right. We’ll wait on the porch a few minutes, but I’m not ringing the bell until at least five-to.”
He walked Felix up the sidewalk, and they made their way to Eric’s porch where Steve quietly took his seat. Not even ten seconds later, Drake appeared at the window, standing on his hind legs barking raucously. “Oh no.” If only Steve could shrink really small and crawl into a hole. He tried to motion for Drake to be quiet, but his gestures only managed to further excite the dog.
A couple minutes later the front door opened, and as Steve turned his head, his cheeks felt about as warm as a baked potato.
“Hey! You’re early.” A shirtless Eric stood with his face half-covered by shaving cream. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you quite yet. Come on in.”
“Oh…oh, I’m sorry. I know we’re early. I was just going to wait out here until…well, until seven, but I think Felix…or um…Drake…well, they spotted each other, ya know.”
“It’s cool, come on. Come inside. Help yourself to a drink while I finish getting ready. There’s a full pitcher of iced tea in the fridge…or anything else you’d like.” Steve followed him inside, then released Felix from his leash. He took off with Drake into the living room as Steve glanced up to Eric who now stood a few steps up the stairwell. “Please forgive me. I have this really bad habit of being late for everything.”
“Oh no, it’s my fault. I’m early. I have a bad habit, too. I’m always early.”
Eric laughed. “Hey, we’re good for each other, then. We balance each other out.”
Steve stared at the towel around Eric’s waist. Was he wearing anything at all? He quickly glanced away. “Yeah, I guess we are.” He forced an obligatory chuckle. “I’ll just…um…go ahead and get that glass of tea now.”
“Cool. I’ll be right down. Just give me ten minutes. You can watch TV if you want. The remote’s on the stand in the living room.”
“Thanks.”
Steve eased
his way cautiously into the kitchen. Everything in this man’s house was so nice, and Steve wasn’t used to that kind of atmosphere. The marble countertops and hardwood floors looked like images Steve had only seen in magazines. And the refrigerator even had some sort of computer on the front of the door. He’d seen fridges that had the built-in ice makers, though his folks had never owned one, but he’d never even heard of computerized appliances.
He remembered from the other day the cupboard where Eric had retrieved glasses, and he opened the door, peering inside. Unlike Steve’s eclectic collection of mismatched glasses and dinnerware, Eric’s were a hundred percent coordinated. He reached in and removed a glass, then stepped over to the ice maker and stared at it a moment to figure out how to use it.
After he’d poured himself a refreshing glass of tea and savored his first sip, he stepped around the corner into a section of the condo he hadn’t yet seen. He took a few steps down the hallway, in awe of the artwork on the wall. He froze as he studied the series of prints, all obviously part of a set. There were three paintings, all of the same subject—two men. The first depicted a couple walking together on the beach. They weren’t holding hands, but almost. The picture showed neither of their faces as they were looking away, out toward the ocean with its roiling waves and an overcast sky. The man on the left carried two pairs of shoes, one pair in each hand, and his partner was trying to hold up an umbrella which was being blown unforgivingly by the strong wind.
The beauty of the image in its simplicity spoke a thousand words to Steve’s heart. There was so much suggested about who these men were, yet not quite stated. They had to be a couple, right? They were facing an incoming storm but not particularly troubled by it.
The second painting portrayed what might be the same couple, but maybe not. Again, they were drawn from behind. This time they sat on an embankment, perhaps a boardwalk, overlooking the ocean. The overcast sky was clearing, and the sun had begun to break through the clouds. Steve blinked, his eyes inexplicably moist with tears. He quickly looked away for a moment, and then took a step down the hall to the third painting.