“Are you single?” he asked when Marcus had left him with his second Bloody Mary. He had refilled my glass as well. Marcus had winked at me as he topped me off.
I decided it was time I started telling the truth, rather than always swallowing it. “I’ve never even had a date before.” I took in a little more of my bubbly. “Part of my going to Rowe is to learn to be more open about myself.”
“Sounds like you got hit with a big Mormon stick early on, huh?”
“I never wanted to do anything that would bring shame to my grandparents.” I almost added “Since my mother had done that so well on her own.” But then I suddenly realized that was my thought, and in my whole life, I had never heard my grandparents ever say anything negative or critical about her. They had only expressed regret that she had left. I looked at the cherry bobbing in my glass and wondered if they would have accepted me if I had told them I was gay. They never said anything bad about Aunt Lindsey. They sometimes had made critical comments about Sarah, but nothing she didn’t deserve.
“You should be an actor,” Zach said quietly. “It’s fascinating to watch and wonder what’s going on behind those green eyes. You’re playing with some very deep thoughts. I think the retreat will be a really good thing for you.”
“I suddenly realized that I spent so much of my life worried about how my grandparents would judge me, and now I’m starting to see how I had really been judging them, not trusting them enough to fully accept me.”
“One of the things you’ll learn at the retreat—one of the hardest things to do—is to start seeing your parents and grandparents as people. Not as your family members.” He talked more about his experience at the retreat. Marcus made another pass with his cart. I felt I could listen to Zach all day. Later on he glanced at his watch and then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his business card. “We’re not too far from Logan. I want to give this to you before I get distracted after we land. My office is in Salt Lake, and I have a condo in the Avenues.”
I pulled out my wallet and took out one of my own cards to exchange it with him. I tucked his beneath my driver’s license.
“I tell you what, Brett.” He held my eyes. “I think you’re nervous about the idea of having a first date. Let’s call this flight our first date. No pressure. No stress. I’ve had a great time, and I think you have as well. Let’s do a second date when we’re both back in Salt Lake, or if you have time, when you return to Boston after the retreat is over. I’m going to be around with Katy for the next ten days. I promised I’d help her move into a new apartment.”
I nodded. The pilot came on to let us know we were twenty minutes out from Logan Airport. Marcus came back and slipped me a bottle of champagne wrapped in a dark yellow cloth napkin. “Cheers,” he said. I thanked him, and as he walked away I noticed he had attached his own business card inside the napkin. I swore I must have wandered into a movie. I had just enough room for the bottle in my carry-on. I followed Zach down to baggage, happy to be with someone familiar with the area. When our luggage came, he hugged me and I walked to the rental car booth.
Chapter Six
IT WAS the early afternoon, and the drive out of Boston was spectacular. I recognized landmarks from the websites I had studied. I put my iPhone next to me and followed the directions to Rowe. I was excited. I tried to remember the last time I felt like this. I couldn’t. On the way to Highway 2, Siri kept calling out names I knew from my school history texts. I had a DVD of the musical 1776 that I loved. I didn’t have many DVDs, since most of my favorites were digital. The current Broadway hit Hamilton was this generation’s version of 1776, where dry patriots on the page became larger-than-life, inspiring figures who sang and danced their way into history. The ending of the older musical focused on the idea our nation was born not from the efforts of Adams or Jefferson and the rest of the founding fathers we all know—but because of a man who realized if he voted “no” for independence, he’d always be remembered as the man who single-handedly aborted America. Then we’d have just been Southern Canada. But he told the others if he voted “yes,” then he’d just be one of the many who did, and he wouldn’t stand out. I had identified with that character for most of my life. Now I wondered what it would be like to be John Adams, Ben Franklin, or Thomas Jefferson. Or Alexander Hamilton.
Siri played various numbers from both shows as I joined in and sang, finally seeing the turnoff for Zoar Road, and then easily found Kings Highway and followed the signs to the conference center as America became America and the music faded away. I parked and got out, stretched away the kinks, and went in to register.
A handful of men greeted me. “Hello.” A gray-haired man with a salt-and-pepper beard stood up from behind a desk and walked toward me. “I’m Keith. Welcome to the retreat.”
“I’ve read a couple of your books.” I smiled. The book covers showed him with dark hair. Now he looked more like Eddie. “Brett,” I added as we shook hands.
“All the way from the Beehive State. I hope you’ve had a pleasant journey here. I’ll just have you sign the registration, and Karl will give you your introduction packet and show you to your room. Dinner will be ready in about forty-five minutes.” I followed him back to the desk and found my name on the first page. I added my signature. Now I was John Hancock. I wondered if I had written it large enough for fat King George to see. I hesitated a moment, having never made that connection to my uncle before. It was unfair. Uncle George had spent most of my life ignoring me, not trying to hold me back. I guess I had done that for myself.
LOST IN thought, I almost missed Karl standing behind me until he cleared his throat. I looked up, embarrassed. He seemed a few years younger than I was, and several inches shorter. Heartbreakingly cute with curly light brown hair cropped short and pale blue eyes. Slender. He looked like someone I would have crushed on in high school and then avoided at all costs so no one would realize I was the queer kid busy lusting away.
“Whoa,” he said, “check you out. You look like you fell off the cover of a men’s fitness magazine. What do they feed you guys in Utah?”
“I seem to recall a steady diet of shame and guilt with a side of overachievement.” Which wasn’t what I had intended to say. That just fell out. I remembered a line from Aunt Lindsey’s play, “The tip of your tongue is the bottom of your soul.” I wondered how long I had been holding that one back.
“If you’re addicted to guilt and shame, then you might suffer from withdrawal symptoms while you’re with us.” He handed me a folder with the retreat center’s logo on the front and Brett Farnsworth printed out on a label just below the logo. “Here you go, Mr. Farnsworth.” Then he slipped me my room key; it was warm from his grasp. Crap, I was getting a hard-on. I felt like I was suddenly fourteen again and trying to hide my tenting pants from Jimmy, who had just moved to our town from Cedar City, where his dad had been teaching at Southern Utah University.
“Are you from around here?” God, I felt stupid. And horny.
“Boston born and bred.” I thought of Eddie and the fact Karl didn’t have some bizarre accent. He just sounded like an actor doing voice-overs to sell something expensive. I was ready to buy. “I was here last year, and this time around I’m volunteering so I can have the experience again.”
“I’m planning on staying in Boston for a while after the retreat is over.”
“It’s a great city. My friends tell me I should work for the chamber of commerce because I’m always telling people about it. I’ll be glad to act as your tour guide. I’ll even take you to one of my favorite places and show you the Make Way for Ducklings statues in Boston Public Garden, across from Beacon Hill.”
“No way,” I said. “The children’s book? My aunt Lindsey gave me that one when I was seven!” God, I sounded like a fourteen-year-old overly excited girl. It was like all the blood had drained from my head and puddled into my dick.
“The very same. Let me give you a hand with your luggage and I’ll get you settled in your room. Then I�
��ll give you a brief tour to orient you, and by then it should be time to chow down and meet everybody else. We just got a phone call from a couple of guys who were lost, so now that you’re here and they’re on their way, we’ll have a full house.” He followed me back to my rental car, and I handed him my carry-on as I pulled up the handle of my bigger suitcase and wheeled it back toward the entrance to the center.
I dropped off my things in my cabin. It was simple and clean. Karl pointed out the other places where people were staying—the Orchard House and Brookhouse and an eighteenth century guesthouse. There was a rec hall, a sauna, and a bathhouse. We walked by the millpond, which looked even more magical than it had online. He pointed out the foothills of the Berkshire Mountains, but I was a boy from the Wasatch Mountains, and ours were bigger. We passed an organic garden.
“Our meals are gourmet,” Karl said. “The menu is vegetarian, but you can always request chicken to be added. There’s a real commitment to thinking globally and acting locally, with the center turning to nearby farms for the food we don’t grow ourselves.”
“Are you single?” I asked him as we headed toward the dining hall. That was something I had never asked another guy before. In for a penny, in for a pound, I heard my granma say in my head.
“Totally. I was off and on again with a guy my last year of college, but I really wasn’t ready to settle down. He’s off in grad school in Texas. We’re still friends. And you?”
I considered my answer. “I’ve only had one date.” He looked surprised. “Let’s just say I’m a late bloomer.”
“That’s not uncommon here. Some take longer to accept themselves than others. People arrive with clogged chakras. Their chi is usually flowing more freely before the weekend is over.” We stepped inside, and he guided me to the serving line. The staff stood ready with ladles, big spoons, and smiles. I wasn’t really into vegetarianism, but I figured when in Rowe, do as the Roweans do. It smelled delicious. The atmosphere reminded me of some of the summer Temple activities, but this was buzzier and less reserved. There had also been parents around to make sure we behaved properly. I suspected there would be less Bible study here than I was used to at a retreat.
Chapter Seven
WE SAT down, and Karl introduced me to some of the other participants. I looked around and saw a real diversity of ages, sizes, and shapes. Most were as white as the membership at the Temple, but there was a scattering of browner faces here and there. As I accepted a homemade dinner roll a staff person was offering, a middle-aged man named Walter asked me where I was from.
“Salt Lake City,” I answered.
“Cool. I’m from rural Wisconsin.”
“Do you know anything about a giant statue of a cow?”
“Oh, sure. It used to be able to talk. Well, it had a recording about the dairy industry. It’s still a popular tourist attraction.”
“What’s it like to live in rural Wisconsin?”
“Peaceful. Quiet. Boring. Isolated. I’ve been married for a long time. My wife knew about me before we got together. We have an arrangement. I come to events like this and to the annual Body Electric workshop in Minneapolis to get my other needs met, and she doesn’t ask me any questions. I’m a professor at one of the state colleges. I’m too ethical to approach my students. I was excited when we finally got full Internet coverage. Went online to find others like myself, but the closest guy I found who was interested and available was a hundred miles away. Which is why I’m thankful for places like this.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Oh, Walter is a repeat offender,” Karl laughed. “How many times have you been here?”
“This is my twelfth retreat. If this were a university, I would have gotten tenure by now.”
We finished up with two different types of fresh fruit cobblers. If I lived here, I’d probably be the size of Uncle George by Christmas.
After dinner, Keith stood up and introduced the other workshop leaders and staff. Two were identified as being with the Body Electric, and I glanced over at Walter, who had broken into a wide grin. They were the ones running the erotic massage workshop. We were invited out to a nearby campfire to have coffee or tea and to mingle.
“When did you come out?” Karl asked me. I sped through answers in my mind. Then I realized I was falling into old habits, trying to figure out what answer would please him the most. I took a deep breath and just gave him the truth.
“I haven’t. I mean, my aunt knows. She’s a lesbian. Her friend Eddie is Ivana Mann, one of the better-known of our local drag queens, and he’s been urging me to declare myself since I was in high school.”
“Are you questioning, then?”
I looked into his eyes. He had beautiful eyes. I shook my head. “No, I think I always knew. I just tried to hide it, thinking my grandparents wouldn’t approve.” He looked sad. “They were the ones who raised me. I never wanted to do anything to shame them.”
“Being gay isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”
I sighed again and quoted: “Sexual relations are proper only between a man and a woman who are legally and lawfully wedded as husband and wife. In principle, this commandment forbids all homosexual behavior whether intra-marriage or extramarital. Homosexuality-related violations of the law of chastity may result in church discipline.”
“Sounds like you memorized that one.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “I believed that if I followed all the teachings, then maybe people would love me and wouldn’t leave me—” And I stopped talking as if my battery had died. I closed my eyes and decided the new me would speak the full truth. “—the way my mother did.”
“Whoa, heavy duty, bro,” Karl said, sounding impressed. “I think you’ve come to the right place.” He hugged me. “Let’s go outside where the others are.” I followed him, lost in my own thoughts. “Do you believe what you were quoting?”
“I think I always believed some of it. I believed enough to think I was never good enough. But while my grandparents were really active in the Church, the way most of their generation were, their kids seemed to let all the air out of those beliefs. My aunt is a really respected member of the arts community. When she married Sarah, the world didn’t stop spinning, and the Temple didn’t collapse. The Church taught me a lot of things I value, like being responsible and helping out others, but I’ve come to realize it also taught me to be as judgmental toward others as I have been about myself. I accept that God made me the way that I am. It’s taken me longer to learn to believe in that than it did a lot of the Church teachings.”
“Can you say it now?”
“Say what?”
“You know.”
I sighed. I felt my shoulders slump. I felt like I was falling back into the me I knew so well. I remembered my trainer constantly nagging me not to let my shoulders slump, to focus on my core. I raised my head and looked directly at Karl. “I… I’m gay.” I felt like something had fallen off. I felt dizzy. I felt like I wanted to sit down, but at the same time I wanted to jump up and down like my inner fourteen-year-old girl. “I’m gay,” I repeated.
Karl hugged me again. “It gets easier each time you say it.”
“Was it like that for you?”
“Nah, I jumped out of the womb with jazz hands. When I was, like, eleven, my mom would keep asking me if I liked boys.” He grinned at me and raised one eyebrow. “Who doesn’t?” He paused while an older man in a white apron presented us with a tray of cups full of hot coffee or tea. I took a tea. I had never learned to care for the taste of coffee. Karl obviously had no problem with it. “But Chaz—he’s the guy I was dating—oh, he kept choking on coming out. His dad is a Southern Baptist minister. I think you would have had a lot in common. That was one of the reasons for the on-and-off dating. He’d get all hot and bothered and then throw his skirt over his head and run off screaming. He’d get buried in guilt until he couldn’t stay away from the sex.” I held my cup in both hands. It felt comforting. “Whoa—have you e
ver been with a guy before?”
I had to force my eyes up to meet his. This truth thing was harder than I thought. I shook my head again. “When I had just turned sixteen, I fooled around with my best friend in the backseat of our car. But I didn’t know what I was doing. Jimmy had his hand down my pants while he was licking my lips, but nothing really happened.”
“You look like you could be a character in a CW television series—and nothing really happened?”
“My grandparents were in the front seat. We were driving back from a basketball game.” I stopped. I was tired of feeling guilty.
“My bad.” He smiled. “Chaz had had a little more experience than that when we met. At least enough to know what he was after as soon as we were alone. Relax, bro. Last year we had this Native American guy who was one of the facilitators. He told us he came from a farming family on his reservation. ‘We learn early on that things grow in their own time. You don’t stand out in the middle of the cornfield and scream, grow!’ There’s nothing wrong with being, as you put it, a late bloomer. All that matters is that you eventually bloom.”
I would have said something, but there was a lump in my throat, and I tried not to let a single tear escape. I failed. “Thank you,” I rasped. My voice sounded like it had slid over sandpaper as it slipped out.
Chapter Eight
“HEY, KARL.” Another twentysomething came up to us. “How’s it hanging? And who’s your friend?”
“Hey, you. Jared, this is Brett. Brett, Jared. Jared is from New Jersey. He was here last year.”
“Dude,” Jared said, “what’s your routine? You gotta live in the gym, right? Dig it!” He lifted up his T-shirt to show off a set of chiseled abs. I was suddenly back in high school surrounded by jocks just like this one. I automatically wanted to reach for the tape to use on his groin. The jocks were always showing off the way Jared was—who had the best abs, the biggest guns… the biggest dick. I always found it curious when I noticed that the ones with the best bodies never had the biggest dicks.
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