There Goes Sunday School

by Alexander C. Eberhart

  “If you’re referring to—”

  “I’m referring to the very same book that condemns homosexuality in the Bible. They go on to say a whole lot of things are ‘abominations’ including, eating shellfish, wearing jewelry, cutting your hair, getting a tattoo, and harvesting honey.”

  “You’re taking these things out of context, Michael.”

  “Am I?” I laugh, shaking my head. “I’ve lived for sixteen years listening to these stories, Ms. Owens. Sixteen years. I’ve endured countless hours of sleepless nights, wallowing in guilt over the things that come naturally to me. Do you know what that’s like? To wake up every single day and think to yourself, I wonder if I’ll ever be happy?

  “I know what it’s like. It’s been like that my entire life. But, now, I found someone who makes me feel like I’m not a mistake. Who makes me feel things I’ve never thought I would be able to. Who silences the questions in my head with just a touch of his hand. That feeling led me to act out.

  “So, to answer your previous question, yes. Yes, I am aware the school policy dictates that any inappropriate behavior between members of the same sex is forbidden. And, no, I’m not going to apologize or repent for what was done because I don’t think it was inappropriate behavior at all.”

  Ms. Owens removes her glasses, mouth moving as if she is chewing her words.

  God, I feel free. Like every word I said erased a part of the heaviness I’ve been carrying. I have to keep this momentum going.

  “And if you don’t agree,” I say and rise from my seat, “I respect your opinion, but we’ve nothing further to discuss.” Not looking back, I turn the door handle and march out of her office.

  “Michael!” I hear her call.

  Chris jumps to his feet when he sees me. The muffled sound of shouting is coming from the Principals office.

  “What’s going on in there?” I ask.

  “No idea.” He grabs ahold of my hand, our fingers interlacing. “Your dad just showed up and it started.”

  “Uh-oh.” I can’t decipher any words, just frustration in their tone. And I don’t want to listen anymore, so I give Chris a smile. “Want to get out of here?”

  He mirrors my grin. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  The sun pours through the windows as we pull off the highway. You’d think the warmth would have done something about the teeth chattering thing I’m currently going through, but it doesn’t. At least the traffic is lighter this time of day. Chris’s hand hasn’t left mine since we fled, and it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. Without it, I’ll float away, lost in the new feeling of weightlessness.

  We opt for silence, neither of us feeling up to music. In fact, I don’t think we’ve said a single word to each other the entire ride. That being the case, I know exactly where we’re headed. He doesn’t have to say it.

  After a few miles, we park along the side of the street. It’s lunchtime, which means a decent flow of foot traffic. Chris releases his hold on me, and for a second, I think I’m going to drift off but then we’re out of the car and his fingers wrap around mine again as we walk. It’s nice. Like, really nice.

  It feels like a different world then a few weeks ago when I first walked this street. Things between Chris and I certainly are different.

  Before long, we’ve reached the familiar rust-colored door. Chris ushers me inside and I smile as I walk under the folded paper cranes.

  The teal-haired goddess calls a greeting as we move to the counter. They’ve just opened up, so there’s only two other people in the café.

  “Hey, guys.” The woman smiles. “What can I get for you?”

  “Just a pot of dandelion, please.”

  “And a latte,” I add.

  Chris swipes a card on the terminal and I try and distract myself with the colorful displays.

  Our parents are probably freaking the fuck out by this point, but I’m trying not to think about that. Honestly, I’m trying not to think about anything. Other than Chris.

  We move in silence to our table by the window. The paintings above the old piano are just as colorful as I remember. I take a moment to reattune myself to them.

  “Mike?”

  It’s the first thing he’s said to me in over an hour.

  “Yeah?” I keep staring at the canvases.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  The ship rests on top of the blue wave.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know, but where does this leave us?”

  The flowers are in bright contrast to the dark background.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you at least look at me?”

  I move from one work of art to another. His eyes catch the sunlight and they meld together into these really cool shades of honey and amber. Freckles stand out against his pale skin and the slight bend in his nose throws the symmetry. His imperfections make him perfect in my eyes, and it hurts to think about not having him by my side.

  “Here you go, guys.” The teal-haired woman sets the pot between us, followed by my coffee and two cups on saucers. She gives me a smile then flutters away.

  Chris stares at the teapot, watching the steam rise from the spout.

  “What did you say when they asked you about yesterday?”

  The silence stretches between us.

  “I didn’t really say much of anything,” Chris says, grabbing the pot and filling his cup. “I just shut down. She talked for a good twenty minutes before finally letting me go. It was the usual bullshit.” Chris pauses, taking a sip. “What about you?”

  “Well…I kinda went off on her,” I tell him about our conversation and the look on her face when I walked out of the office.

  “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.” Chris grins. “What I would have given to see her face.”

  A buzzing noise cuts off the conversation, and Chris reaches into his pocket. “About time….” he mutters, silencing the phone call.

  “Is it your dad?”

  He nods, setting the phone down next to him. “I just want a little more time.” He takes my hand from across the table. “Is that selfish of me?”

  “Not at all,” I tell him. “It’s all I want too.”

  Just one more afternoon, Big Guy. I just want to be happy for one more afternoon.

  “I told Jackie,” I say, thinking about turning my phone back on to check her reaction. But that would mean letting everyone else in, and that’s not something I want to deal with right now.

  “Really?” Chris breathes. “That’s incredible, Mike!”

  “Not really.” I laugh, “I mean the entire school is about to find out, so it can’t be.”

  “But that’s different. You can’t help that. You told your best friend, and you did it on your terms. I’m so proud of you!”

  My cheeks burn. “Shut up.”

  Chris raises his cup into the air. “A toast,” he says, “to your first coming out.”

  “You nerd,” I say, clinking my mug against his.

  “Call me whatever you want,” Chris says. “That doesn’t mean I’m gonna like you any less. Hey, who are you going to tell next?”

  “Can we not talk about this anymore?” I swirl the foam around in my cup. “I just want to enjoy one more date with my boyfriend before I’m homeless.”

  Chris gives a weak smile, but soon it turns into his signature smirk.

  I would give anything for him to keep it.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  The warm sun and Atlanta sidewalks seem worlds away as I sit in my driveway. Chris and I spent the entire day together, and I don’t want it to end. Once again, Chris’s car has become this awesome time capsule that keeps me safe from the outside world. I don’t want to leave.

  “I have to face the music sooner or later.” I try to sound brave, but I’m scared shitless.

  “Call me when it’s over? I can come get you if I have to.”

  “You have your own problems t
o sort out.” My hand rests on the handle. “Don’t worry about mine.”

  He catches my elbow. “Your problems are my problems, Mike. And it’s going to stay that way, as long as you want.”

  And as if gravity is pulling me, I’m drawn into him, lips finding his with ease. For a moment, I forget everything that isn’t Chris. He fills my mind, pressing everything else out. This may be our last moment together, so I soak it in.

  Too soon he pulls away, leaving me breathless and disoriented.

  “I-I… Goodnight, Chris.”

  “Goodnight, Mike.”

  I open the door, climbing out of his car.

  There are no more words, so I watch him pull out of the driveway and linger until his headlights have long vanished around the curve.

  Hey Big Guy, I just wanted to say thank you. For today, I mean. It could have been so much worse, and I got to have just a little more time with Chris. I couldn’t have expected more. It was really cool of You. Thank You for that.

  I’ve stalled long enough. There’s nothing left to do but walk inside and face my parents. I just hope they don’t kick me out right away. Maybe I’ll have a week to formulate a plan before they toss me on the street.

  Climbing the stairs to the door, my key turns with a click. Taking one last deep breath, I step inside.

  The foyer is quiet. No television noises coming from the living room, no music from Dad’s office, no annoying video playing on Rosy’s phone. Nothing.

  The door closes behind me and I toss my messenger bag at the foot of the stairs.

  “Michael?” Dad’s voice comes from the kitchen.

  Making my way down the hall, I push open the swinging door to the kitchen. “Yeah?”

  “Oh, thank God!” My mother grabs me by the collar and drags me into the room. She hugs me so tight I can’t take a breath. “Where have you been? Why aren’t you answering our calls?”

  “Mom…can’t…breathe.”

  “Sorry.” She releases me, mopping up tears with a paper towel she clutches. She looks like she’s been crying for a while.

  And that certainly doesn’t make me feel like shit.

  Dad grabs my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “We were worried sick about you, Michael. What made you think it was okay to drop off the radar like that?”

  I can’t help laughing. “You’re joking, right?”

  My parents share a look. “Why would we be joking?”

  “Well after that cluster fuck this morning, I would think it would be understandable.”

  “Michael,” my mother scolds, “language!”

  “Get the fuck over it, Mom. I think my language is the furthest thing from the topic at hand here.”

  My mother falls into her seat at the table, a stunned look on her face. I should feel guilty, but I don’t. Not today.

  “You both know where I was,” it’s an accusation. How dare they try and pass off naivety. I don’t have the patience for it. Today happened, and we all need to deal with it. “So, let’s just stop beating around the bush and get this over with.” I waltz over the table, pull out a chair and have a seat.

  I don’t know when I grew these balls, but I’m not backing down now. If they’re going to kick me out, then I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

  “Well, alrighty then.” Dad runs a hand through his hair before joining us at the table. “I guess we’re just going to jump right in. Michael, first of all I want to say we’re glad you’re home safe.”

  I nod my head. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls, but as you can imagine I had a lot going on.”

  “Fair enough,” Dad replies, resting his elbows on the table. “So, it’s safe to assume you were with Chris?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Michael, please don’t take that tone.”

  “Dad! Jesus, we went into the city to get away from the bullshit! It’s not like we joined a gang. Why does it matter?”

  “It matters,” Dad repeats, “because you’ve apparently been lying to us for God only knows how long! It’s hard to know when to believe you. And you cut school!”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “None of this is fair.” He sighs, lowering his voice. “Fine. You don’t have to tell us. As long as you’re safe now, that’s all that matters.”

  “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Good. Now, is there anything else we need to talk about?”

  “You tell me, Dad.”

  “Michael, have I done something to deserve this treatment?” He leans back in his chair. “Because, if I have, I apologize for it. I just want you to be honest with us.”

  Maybe I am being a jerk. But I have to keep my defenses up. They’ll be the only thing keeping me from falling apart when the shit hits the fan.

  “No, you haven’t,” I admit. “Not directly, at least.”

  “Then please, drop the attitude and talk to us. We’re here for you. We want to know what’s going with you.”

  My frustration has reached a boiling point and it starts to overflow.

  “What’s there to talk about, Dad?” I bang my fist on the table, my mother flinching. “We could talk about the fact I’ve been lying to everyone I love for the past six years? Or maybe the part where I’ve been dragged to a horrible place where, twice a week, they tell me I’m an abomination that deserves to be tossed into the fiery pits of Hell? Or maybe we could chit-chat about the fact I’m getting kicked out of school for kissing the only person that’s ever made me feel like I was normal.”

  They’re both silent, and I let out a shuddered breath.

  Blinking away tears, I continue. “Look, I’m sorry you two had to find out that way. If I’d had my way, I would have never said anything. We all could have lived our lives, ignoring the elephant in the room. But I can’t change what’s happened, no matter how much I wish I could.”

  A small whimper forces me to look up, my mother raising a hand to cover her mouth.

  All of the time spent imagining this moment didn’t prepare me for the horrible sinking feeling her reaction causes. I can’t even look at her.

  “You never would have told us?” she asks, pulling her hand away.

  I shake my head, the lump in my throat too thick to speak around.

  “Michael,” she says and grabs my hand across the table, “we love you. There is nothing in this world you can’t tell us. If we haven’t made that clear, that’s our fault. Not yours.”

  “That’s right, hojito.” Dad leans forward again. “We understand why you kept this from us but know you don’t have to anymore. We love you. Unconditionally. And that’s not going to change, no matter what.”

  More tears stream down my face. I don’t blot them. I just let them fall.

  “Talk to us, Michael.”

  “Please, Mike.”

  “I’m gay,” I whisper.

  My dad actually chuckles. “I think we got that part, Mike.”

  “Bert.” Mom cuts him off.

  “I…” I swallow hard, so I can speak. “I think I might love him. Chris, I mean. It’s too soon to tell, and it’s kind of a first for me.”

  “And how does he feel?” Dad asks.

  “He feels the same.” I wring my hands together under the table. “At least, that’s what he tells me. I don’t know! I haven’t felt this before.”

  “Does he treat you well?”

  “Yes.” I nod. “Of course.”

  “Are you two being safe?”

  “Dad!” I cringe, squirming in my seat.

  “Bert!” Mom gapes at him.

  “It’s an important question, Nancy! Just because they can’t get pregnant doesn’t mean that—”

  “I’m not listening!”

  I laugh, and the tears keep falling, but that sinking feeling gets lighter with each breath I take.

  My parents continue a hushed discussion as I marvel at them. No one yells. No one screams or threat
ens to evict me. This isn’t exactly what I was prepared for.

  You’re just full of surprises, aren’t You, Big Guy?

  “What did Double— I mean, Principal Peters say?” I ask.

  My father’s expression darkens. “Well, after Roger stopped screaming long enough for him to speak, he told us that you had an ultimatum. Either you would drop all your extracurricular activities and attend mandatory counseling three times a week, or you would be asked to leave Stronghold.”

  “I kinda figured that would happen.”

  “But don’t worry, son.” Dad has fire in his eyes. “When I’m through with that man, he’s going to wish he—”

  “Bert,” Mom says cutting him off, “we can’t do anything about that right now. It’s their rules. How can we expect them to make an exception for one person?”

  “You heard those ridiculous conditions.” Dad’s on a roll. “They won’t even let him interact with his friends. He’ll be a pariah!”

  “I’m not saying he should stay there,” Mom says, “but we have to think of something quick or— Michael, I’m sorry. I know this has been a lot for you in one day. Honestly, it’s been a lot for everyone.”

  “Surprisingly, I’m okay,” I tell her.

  “How’s Chris doing?”

  “I’m not really sure,” I admit. “He seemed all right when he dropped me off, but he’s doing the same thing I am by now. I can imagine it’s not going to go well. I wouldn’t be surprised if his dad kicks him out.”

  Mom and Dad share another look.

  “I mean, can you picture Pastor Myers being this cool about it?”

  “Well what about Tommy’s room, Nance?”

  “Yeah.” Mom nods her head. “I was just thinking that. We could throw in another bed for when he comes down during breaks, but I don’t think he’ll mind.”

  “Let me call Tammy over at the office, I think she was trying to get rid of a bed frame last week.”

  “Wait.” I raise a hand. “What are you talking about?”

  They look at me with confusion.

  “Chris, dummy.” Dad laughs. “Tell him, if he needs a place to stay, he’s always welcome here. In separate bedrooms, of course.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I mean, we’d have to draw some guidelines,” says Mom, “but of course we are. We aren’t going to leave him out on the street.”