by John Goode
Nate walked Amy and Conner out to the car while I walked over to Sam, who was talking to a group of people who looked like they had money as well. “Hey,” I said, interrupting the conversation. “We’re going to take off.”
He glanced over his shoulder at me and nodded. “Cool, get home safe.”
I felt the urge to reach over and kiss him, but I was pretty sure that was not the smartest thing I could do. There were a thousand things I wanted to say, but none of them made any sense outside my brain, so I just ended up saying “Was cool meeting you” and walking away.
When I got in the car, Nate and Amy were in the backseat, looking like they were about to fall asleep, while Conner was texting someone. I pulled out into traffic, and Amy asked me, “So did you get his number?”
“He didn’t give it to me,” I answered, following Conner’s directions back to his house.
Nate leaned forward. “Did you ask him for it?”
I admitted I didn’t.
“Then you’re an idiot,” he said, sitting back.
I could not argue the fact I was indeed an idiot.
Amy and Conner’s home was pretty big, a two-story house with a cellar, which was pretty rare for Texas. The entire lower level had been turned into a den/guest room, and they had a fold-out couch where Nate and I would sleep. As with everyone else I had met today, it was obvious Amy’s family had more money than my dad and I had ever or would ever possess. Nate kissed Amy good night, and we headed downstairs.
I let Nate use the small bathroom across from the foot of the stairs first while I changed into a pair of sweats to sleep in. When he got out, I went in and brushed my teeth as he took off his clothes and pulled on a pair of trunks. I’m sure the pullout bed was more than big enough for normal people, but Nate and I were far from normal. Our feet stuck out way past the end of the frame, and there was no way for us not to bump up against each other lying there.
“I don’t think he liked me,” I said after a few minutes of silence.
“I’m pretty sure he did, dude,” he answered sleepily.
Sighing, I felt the same gnawing depression I had been fighting all summer begin to grow again. I really felt like I was going to cry. “What’s wrong with me? I mean, I like guys, but I’m so afraid of telling people….” My eyes began to sting. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t like me.”
“Come here,” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into a hug. I leaned into him and just cried while he held me close. Normally being this near Nate would have horned me up fast, but there was nothing sexual in the gesture. He stroked my hair and whispered to me quietly, “There’s nothing wrong with you, dork. You’re just different, and there’s nothing wrong with being different. You haven’t figured that out yet, but you will.”
“What if I figure it out too late?”
“There is no too late,” he reassured me. “God makes sure everything happens when it’s supposed to. Until then, just keep faith.”
“I don’t think I have any faith,” I admitted, sniffling.
“Then I’ll have enough for both of us.” He hitched back a little, and I felt myself shift instinctively into the crook of his arm. “Just go to sleep, bud. Things will be better in the morning.”
“I love you, Nate,” I said distantly.
I felt him kiss the top of my head. “Love you too, bro.”
I don’t remember anything after that.
We spent the rest of the weekend at Amy’s house. Her dad fired up the grill, and we all enjoyed their pool in the hot Texas sun. That night we went to the movies with Conner and the girl from the club. If I was feeling lonely before, sitting between two couples just drove it home even more.
I got up early Sunday morning to drive back. I did my best not to wake Nate, but I was tossing my clothes into my duffel when he mumbled, “You’re leaving already?”
“Yeah,” I said, grabbing my stuff from the bathroom. “I want to get home before it gets too late, ’cause I know my dad is going to make me go to class on Monday no matter how late I get in.”
He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “So you’re just going to take off without even getting his number? Not even a try?”
I shoved my deodorant into the bag and turned around. “It’s not like it is for straight people, okay? You guys have it easy. You see each other, and it’s all ‘hey, let’s get coffee, okay,’ ‘hey, let’s date, okay,’ ‘hey, let’s get married and have a kid, okay.’ I don’t even know what I am right now, and Sam does. He knows exactly who he is and what he wants and, trust me, Nate, it’s not me!”
It was the first time I’d ever raised my voice to him, and I felt a little shocked I had.
He looked down and sighed. “You’re right, I don’t know how it is for you, but I know this.” His eyes locked with mine. “You’re a great guy, Danny, and if I could be gay for you, I would. I knew you were special when I saw you in Florida, and if Sam can’t see that….”
Something inside me snapped. “Why? Why me?” I asked, letting the bag drop from my hand. “You’ve treated me different from day one, and I’m sorry, but it comes across a lot like flirting, and it’s just messing me up. So what is it, Nate? What is your thing with me?”
All the anger about Sam, about liking guys, about missing a whole season of basketball, all of it came spewing out of my mouth onto Nate. Even though I was pissed, it didn’t change the fact that he had treated me weird since Florida and never told me why. I’d just accepted it because Nate is exactly the kind of guy I would go for, but he wasn’t gay, he wasn’t into guys. So why me?
“Did I ever tell you about my brother?” he asked me.
“You said he died, but that was about it.”
“He was four, and he got hit by a car….” I felt the blood drain from my face. A tear rolled down his cheek, and I felt even worse than I had before. “Anyways, he died, and I just had this hole in me where he was supposed to go. I had this whole way of how life was supposed to be with him, and then he was gone, and I never got over it.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed.
“You think you’re broken, Danny? I see my brother everywhere I look. I see someone his age, and I wonder if that’s what he would look like. I see brothers fucking around, and it’s like I lost a limb but can still feel it ache.” He was really crying now. “You were what I thought he would be like,” he finally admitted. “Funny, shy, into basketball, so damn talented but no faith in yourself. It’s not fair to you, I know, but that’s why. Because God took my brother too early, and I’ve spent my entire life looking for him.”
I reached over and grabbed him. He pulled me into a hug, and we sat there grieving for a life that never was. We bawled for a whole existence that was only imagined, a parallel world where his brother lived, and I was normal and not some freak who liked guys. A place where he and his brother were a pair of basketball-playing brothers who made recruiters shit themselves, and I had a girlfriend and my dad didn’t think I was a huge, gay disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said. “It isn’t you, it’s me. I’m just messed up inside and can’t get it together.”
He pulled back and wiped his eyes. “No you’re not. You’re not messed up at all, Danny. So you like guys; that isn’t messed up, that’s the way God made you. I don’t think there’s a thing wrong with it, and you shouldn’t.”
“I’m a freak,” I said, still not able to look him in the eyes.
“Dude, we’re all freaks inside. Normal is just the lie we all agree to tell the public.”
I hugged him again, and I felt a small part of my pain drain away for a moment.
“Go to church with us,” he whispered to me. “Please, just go once with me. Let me introduce you to our Father.”
I nodded, knowing I would have run into a fire if he told me to.
Luckily all my khakis needed was a hot iron to make them presentable, and one of Nate’s shirts fit well enough for me to wear. But the tie was anot
her thing altogether. I glared into the mirror at the tie, wondering who the idiot was who came up with this crap. I had always worn clip-ons to school for game day. Tying an actual tie was beyond me.
Nate walked into the bathroom and said, “Look at me. Chin up. Stand still.”
I turned, and he made the limp piece of blue cloth dance in his hands; it went from a snarl of fabric to a perfectly knotted tie in nothing flat. He smoothed it out and smiled at me. “I always wanted to do that.”
The feeling was so intense it just came out of me. “I love you,” I said, reaching out to hug him. He hugged me back, and I knew if I never found a guy to go out with in my life, just having Nate as a friend would be enough for me.
There was a flash of light, and we looked over to see Amy standing there with her phone, taking a picture. “Sorry, that was just too freaking cute for words.” She gestured at us. “Now stand next to each other and smile.”
Nate stepped over next to me. I put my arm around him and felt his arm circle around my back. “Say cheese,” she said.
We both smiled and said cheese.
It was the first picture I ever took with my big brother. I know I’m not supposed to do this, but I need to tell you this before I forget. Amy sent me that picture, and I printed it out at home, and I took that thing everywhere with me. It was in my locker at school, when I went to college it was taped next to my computer, and past that even. That picture was my talisman, my good luck charm. It wasn’t a picture; it was a light against the darkness that always seemed to surround my life. It was a candle that never went out no matter how hard the wind blew.
I loved him that much.
Okay, so back to the story.
We all got dressed and went to Amy’s church, which was this huge glass building in Dallas. Everyone who was there looked like they had more money than… well, I was going to say God, but if God owned this church, then he had some bank of his own. We found a seat in one of the first few pews, and I sat with Nate as Amy and her parents said hello to their friends.
“So do you know anyone who is, like, normal or are all your friends, like, millionaires?” I asked him in a quiet tone.
He grinned at me and said, “Well, I know you.”
“I hate you,” I muttered, knowing I had been burned.
After a few minutes everyone sat down, and the service began. There was a prayer that I didn’t understand and a lot of “amens” before an older, white-haired priest walked up to the podium. “Normally this is where I would say my sermon and most of you would fall asleep.” There was a spattering of chuckles from everyone. “But today we have a treat. I’m sure most of you here remember Thomas Mulligan. His family were members here years ago. He had two sons, and one of them has just returned from doing missionary work in Africa. Since you are expected to sing for your supper here, we asked him to give the homily today.” He stepped aside and a handsome guy, who looked around thirty, walked up to the podium.
Did I just say the priest was hot? Yeah, I’m going to hell.
“Thank you, Father Jimms. I don’t know about singing, but I’ll see what I can do about earning my way.” He looked out at us, and I could see his eyes were a light green that made me think of fresh-cut grass.
“Morning,” he said, smiling. We all said “morning” back. “I know I’m supposed to be up here talking about scripture and the good book and all, but I just don’t have it in me today.” He walked from behind the podium and sat down on the carpeted steps that led up to the altar. “Instead, I just want to talk. About the world, the stuff happening in it… you know, life.” I looked over at Nate, who shrugged. This was new to him too, it seemed.
“What is the greatest challenge to the church today?” he asked the crowd. “What is the biggest threat to the word of God?”
“Perverts,” someone cried out.
“Murderers,” called out another.
“Faggots,” someone from the back yelled, and the place went silent. I felt my heart begin to pound in my chest as my stomach soured. I guess it showed, because Nate reached over and put his hand over mine and squeezed it.
Father Mulligan stood up slowly. “Perverts, murderers, and faggots.” He paused for effect. “Oh my.”
The crowd nervously chuckled.
“So these people, these sinners are the problem, then?” he asked rhetorically. The crowd agreed halfheartedly. “Those who have strayed from the path of the righteous are the greatest threat to the church today? Why?” he asked, looking at the crowd. “Because they hate what they can’t understand? They try to tear us down because we show them how flawed they are?” A few more cheers of agreement. “So then it’s jealousy? They attack us because they’re jealous we are assured the keys to the kingdom while they will, at the very best, spend the rest of their godforsaken lives wandering the desert looking for water?” More agreement from the crowd, who seemed to be getting into it.
“Well then, how do we stop it?” he asked. “How do we keep these sinners from tearing down our faith? Do we condemn them? Do we punish them for crimes against the Holy Father? Do we try to outlaw them? Stop them from marrying each other? Make it legal for people to not serve them if they want?” The crowd was quiet now. “Do we take away their rights as citizens and make sure that even if they don’t believe in our way, they will live their life by it?”
No one said a word.
“If these people are the problem, then shouldn’t we do anything we need to stop them? Isn’t it our responsibility as Catholics to stand up and fight back? Are we not warriors of God?” The crowd started to agree with him again, but I could see the look of speculation on a few people’s faces.
“If this is a war for our souls, then shouldn’t we use every weapon at our disposal? Our words, our votes, and our actions? Shouldn’t we stand up and make sure that these perverts, murders, and faggots are made to pay?” More agreement from some, but a few more people were scowling now.
“Does it not say in Ephesians, ‘put on the full armor of God, that you may be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil’?” A few more cheers of agreement. “‘For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.’” A few more cheers and a couple of amens. “‘Therefore, take up the full armor of God, that you may be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.’” Now almost the whole place was cheering with him.
I, on the other hand, felt like I was seconds from being lynched.
“So we have to do everything in our power to stop these people, right?” he asked. The crowd this time readily agreed. “These people are the problem, right?” More agreement.
“Well, I’m sorry, but you’re wrong,” he said. He’d walked as he’d talked and stood at the pulpit once again.
The mood of the crowd came to a screeching halt.
“You’re dead wrong. The greatest problem facing the church today is not perverts, murderers, or faggots.” He stared intently out at everyone. “The greatest threat to the church today is you.”
Now people were vocally upset. There were some boos and a couple of protests, but Father Mulligan just stood there and waited.
“The greatest threat that faces the church today is the startling lack of love and acceptance by the people in it.” You could have heard a pin drop. “You people didn’t name three things that were threats to the church. You named three groups of people who need the love of God the most.” I saw a few people staring at him with their mouths open in shock. “The church is not a sports team. We are not one side that is arbitrarily picked to be against another. You see perverts, and I see sick people who need to be healed. You see murderers, and I see fallen brothers and sisters who have never needed love more in their lives. And you see faggots, and I see a group of God’s children being hated for just being. And you say you are faithful Christians, and I see a group of hat
eful people masquerading as children of God.”
People were murmuring to themselves, and I could tell this was not the homily they were expecting today.
“If we are servants of God, and I mean true servants and not just in name, then we have an obligation to love everyone in the name of the Lord. Not just the people we agree with and not just the things we can understand, but everything. Saint Augustine said it best when he wrote ‘Cum dilectione huminum et odio vitiorum.’ It translates as ‘With love for mankind and hatred of sins,’ but nowadays we just say love the sinner, but hate the sin. And though it is true we must love the sinner, I think Augustine got it right the first time. With love for mankind. That is the point, for all of mankind. Not the white folks or the straight ones or the nice ones, for all mankind. There are times when I think the Statue of Liberty has the right idea. ‘Give me your tired, your poor. Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The wretched refuse of your teeming shores. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me.’”
He paused to let the words sink in.
“She got it. The woman who wrote that got it. Why can’t we? We are supposed to be God’s chosen. We are his servants here on Earth, and it is our job to bring his love to those who don’t know they are loved. Our job is not to hold others in judgment. Not to belittle the people we don’t agree with. You think there is evil in the world? So do I. You think there is wickedness abundant in the air? I agree. You think the answer is hating them? You’re wrong, dead wrong. And I assure you, if you think the fact you are here, dressed up on a Sunday, is a golden ticket to heaven, it isn’t. You want to quote Corinthians and tell me that the sexually immoral, idolaters, adulterers, or men who practice homosexuality will not inherit the kingdom of God, then be sure to finish the quote with thieves, greedy people, drunks, revilers, and swindlers too. You think having money and wanting more is good? Not according to that quote. You want to think getting the best out of a deal is good, you’re better off finding another passage to defend it.”