End of the Innocence

by John Goode

  Kelly didn’t have a Kyle, and, if his parents had their way, he never would.

  I hated seeing Kyle so upset, and I was really scared for him because I had a feeling that Kelly’s life was about to get worse, and Kyle was going to take that personally. I didn’t know what to say to him because I knew if I tried to bring up the possibility that Kelly might not be able to be rescued, Kyle would think I wasn’t behind him. I didn’t know how to help him or Kelly, and that was driving me nuts. I couldn’t do anything about it.

  But I knew some guys who could.

  KYLE

  THAT Monday I woke up to my mom telling me I had a guest.

  It was still before ten in the morning, which meant she was no more alive than I was. She stumbled off to her room while I headed off to the front door. I have to admit I wasn’t that shocked to see Robbie standing there, cigarette in hand.

  “You know my kind can’t enter unless invited, so come on,” he said, putting it out. I stepped aside and let him enter. “I’m going to admit, I really thought I had you figured out.” He sat down on the couch. “I really thought you’d be back the next day, wanting to talk and to work it out. But here it is a week later and nothing.” He pulled a pack of smokes out of his pocket. “Okay to smoke in here or what?”

  I sighed and sat down across from him. “Everyone else does, help yourself.”

  He tapped the pack against his wrist, a motion I didn’t understand but had seen real smokers do all my life. “So, either you are stubborn as hell, or it’s something else.”

  “It’s something else,” I replied without a pause.

  “Oh, share with the rest of the class, then,” he said, lighting up.

  “I didn’t come back because I didn’t do anything wrong. But more than that, I didn’t come back because I don’t know if I want to or not. Still don’t, in fact.” I said it as calmly as possible, but there was no way to keep my anger out of my voice.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong?” he asked, almost choking on the words. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope,” I answered curtly.

  “And here I thought you were smart,” he snarked as he flicked his ashes into one of Mom’s already overloaded trays.

  “And here I thought you weren’t a bigot.” I mimicked his tone and inflection the best I could.

  I was pretty sure if I had slapped him, I would have received almost the same look from him.

  “Excuse me?” he asked, one eyebrow arching up as far as it could go.

  “You heard me.” I sighed and stood up. “We done?”

  He tossed the cigarette into the ashtray as he got up from the couch. “Oh no, ma’am. You do not get to say some shit like that and then ask if we’re done. I am a bigot?”

  I was done.

  “Yeah, you are a full-fledged bigot. Did I stutter?” This I did not need. I had enough on my plate with everything else. Sitting here yelling at Robbie was not my idea of entertainment.

  “I am not the one who sat there saying people being beaten up and killed wasn’t my problem. I was not the one who refused to take a stand when asked.” He looked mad, but honestly, I had seen better attempts.

  “And I am not the one who said a guy who got outed against his will, is being publicly mocked, and whose parents are thinking of sending to a straight camp deserved what he got because he wasn’t ready to admit he was gay yet. No, I believe it was you who thought just because this guy wasn’t waving a pride flag, everything he got was okay. If that was me or Brad or anyone you considered a ‘real’ gay, you would have been ready to stage a march down First Street in protest. Thinking that some people deserve to be targeted for violence because of their sexuality is being a bigot, Robbie.”

  “He practically beat you up!” he roared back.

  “Yes. Me,” I said, tapping my chest. “He almost beat me up.” I paused for a second before adding. “He had nothing to do with Riley.” I hadn’t wanted to say what I said, but something told me it was time.

  “Fuck you,” he spat out.

  “He wasn’t the one driving the car, he wasn’t the one who yelled faggot, he wasn’t the one who drove off,” I said, as calmly as possible. “You said you stayed here because leaving would diminish his death somehow. I say you stayed here because you are still looking to punish the town that let it happen.” I saw his eyes grow red, but he said nothing more. “Kelly didn’t do it. I know you want to think he is one of those guys, but he isn’t. I am not Riley, he is not the asshole who killed him, and you need to realize that straight people are not the enemy.”

  We sat there staring at each other for what seemed like hours. Finally my mom opened her door and looked out at us. “Can you guys stop yelling, please?” She looked hungover, and I was grateful that was all she said; I’d heard a lot worse.

  “I need to go, anyway,” Robbie said, grabbing his cigarettes. “Sorry about that,” he said to her. “Won’t happen again,” he said to me.

  “Yeah. I don’t think it will,” I agreed. I opened the door and held it for him.

  He stormed out without another word.

  “Jesus, you two fight like the world is ending,” Mom commented before she tottered back into her room.

  All I could think was that to Kelly, the world was ending. I decided to get dressed and head over to make sure he was all right.

  The weather had, apparently, determined that December had indeed arrived. Overnight, everything had been clamped down by the cold. Real cold. It always cracked me up when people automatically assumed Texas is always hotter than hell. They have obviously never been to North Texas around Christmas. The air was cold enough to sting my face when I walked out of the apartment building, but I knew the walk would warm me up, and Lord knew I needed time to get my thoughts back in order.

  The windows on the cars and stores were all frosted over as I passed by. A small group of people from school shivered as they hung out in front of the Vine. Seeing them reminded me that Winter Break had started. I had a vague memory of thinking that my break was going to be like that, just days and days of hanging out with Brad. Now I was hoofing it across town to make sure the guy who tried to kick my ass a few months ago didn’t get sent off to straight camp.

  What a difference a week makes.

  Another car, some sort of sedan, had been parked next to Mr. Aimes’s comic attempt at a midlife crisis. On both sides, bright yellow letters proclaimed The Right Way. The T was a crucifix, which I guess was their attempt to be clever or something. I honestly thought I would have more time to prepare for this, but once again what I thought would happen had zero bearing on what was actually occurring.

  I knocked on the door and steadied myself.

  Mrs. Aimes answered the door and, from the look on her face, I was not who she had been expecting. “Oh,” she proclaimed, shocked. “Kyle, um….” She looked behind her back into the living room and then back to me. “This isn’t the best time, sweetie,” she tried to explain with her overly syrupy voice.

  “I know,” I said, sounding as pathetic as I could manage. “But it was way too cold out here. I started out for a walk, and I need to get a ride home. Can I come inside and call my mom for a ride?” I widened my eyes to look as innocent as possible. If Kelly’s dad had opened the door, my performance would have never worked. He would have told me to freeze and slammed the door. “I promise I will stay in the hall.”

  I tried to shiver, but it came off more like I was shaking.

  “All right. Come in,” she said whispering. “But stay here, and keep it down.”

  I nodded and she let me in. The house was stifling, so I took my coat off before I burst into flames. I could hear a male voice talking in the living room; it wasn’t Kelly or his dad. I pulled my phone out of my coat pocket and pretended to dial convincingly enough that Mrs. Aimes returned to the living room. I closed my phone and concentrated on the conversation.

  “…teach and try to explain the scripture and how it affects your life.” The ma
n sounded kindly, but his voice was so deep it carried a sense of authority that reminded me of coach Gunn. “We aren’t there to tell you what’s wrong with you, Kelly; we just want to fix what’s broken.”

  “See?” I heard Kelly’s dad say. “This isn’t a punishment.”

  My ass it wasn’t.

  I took my phone and tossed it toward the living room. It hit the floor and bounced twice away from me. I pretended to run after it, stumbling into the living room, with what I hoped was a completely embarrassed look on my face. “Um, I’m sorry,” I said, picking my phone up. “Got away from me.”

  Kelly’s dad looked accusingly at his wife. Kelly shook his head at me and hid a smile. The stranger in the room looked over at me and gave me a beaming smile. He was a huge rock of a man, over six feet tall and built like a cage fighter. He wore the short-sleeved black shirt of a reverend that only showed off the gun show he called his arms. He held a Bible in one of his huge paws, but it looked so small in comparison it seemed fake. I saw the trailing edge of a snake’s tail peeking past the end of his left sleeve. A couple of other marks might have been the C in USMC. If he ever decided to get out of the preaching business, he would clean up as a male stripper.

  “Why, hello there,” he said, reaching out to help me up. “Are you a friend of Kelly’s?”

  “He is not welcome here,” Mr. Aimes said, standing up. “This is the one who got him into all of this.”

  “Dad, he didn’t…,” Kelly began to argue, but he stopped when his dad glared at him.

  “Ah, so you’re the serpent in the Garden of Eden?” the preacher said to me jokingly. “I am Father Tim. You are?”

  I resisted the urge to answer “A godless heathen” and instead opted for “Kyle.”

  “Hello, Kyle,” he said, gesturing toward an empty chair. “Would you like to join us?”

  “He has to go,” Mr. Aimes growled at me. “Don’t you?”

  I ignored him and looked at Father Tim. “If it’s okay,” I said, sitting down. “I have a few… doubts.”

  “Well, doubts are The Lord’s way of trying to impart wisdom despite our own stubbornness.” He sounded like he was going off a speech from the effortless way the words rolled off his tongue. “I was just explaining our camp to Kelly here. Have you heard of us?”

  I nodded. “Some, not a lot,” I admitted.

  “Well, as you know, homosexuality is a sin.” He said it the same way I would say the sky is blue or I breathe air. It wasn’t a concept, wasn’t a belief. It was The Way Things Were.

  “Leviticus 20:13,” I added.

  He nodded. “Chapter and verse.” His smile got larger. “Impressive.”

  “If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them,” I quoted for him. He nodded again, looking like he was watching a dog dancing on his hind legs for a treat.

  “Yes, that is exactly it.” He was almost laughing.

  “I read that. Can I ask you some questions, then?” I framed my question as innocently as possible.

  “Of course,” he prompted.

  “Leviticus is set of rules, right?” He nodded. “And so the rules have to be followed. That’s why the church is anti-gay, not because the church is bigoted or hateful, right?”

  “See?” Tim said to the Aimes. “This young man gets it. The church doesn’t hate anyone; it is just following the rules.”

  “So because I am gay, I am going to hell unless I change my ways, right?”

  His face got serious. “I’m afraid so, Kyle, but it doesn’t have to be like that. Jesus can forgive you for your past sins.”

  “I understand that. What I wanted to know was, when you end up in hell too, are you going to be mad?” I made sure I sounded as pure as the driven snow as I asked my question.

  Mr. Aimes shot up screaming, “Okay, that’s enough, young man! Get out of my house right now!” He looked to Father Tim. “I am so sorry, Father. He is just….”

  Tim waved him off. “Why do you think I am going to hell, Kyle?” He seemed more amused than angry.

  “Well, Leviticus 19:28 says ‘Do not cut your bodies for the dead or put tattoo marks on yourselves.’ And I can see your ink from here, so I was curious.”

  He looked down at his arm and smiled. “The tattoo it refers to in the Bible is a completely different kind of…,” he began to explain.

  “Yes, I know it refers to the marking that people like the Hindus did for religious practices. 20:13 actually says ‘And a man who will lie down with a male in beds of a woman, both of them have made an abomination; dying they will die. Their blood is on them.’ It doesn’t say the act is sinful, only that doing it in a woman’s bed is. In fact, biblical scholars have said this refers to the hiding of one’s sexuality more than the act itself.” I paused and then gave him a puzzled look. “I mean, if we were going for original interpretation.”

  His smile seemed to dim slightly. Both of Kelly’s parents looked from me to him. “That is one way of looking at it…,” he began.

  “In fact, aren’t all of us in this room going to hell? Leviticus 19:19 says ‘Do not wear clothing woven of two kinds of material.’ Pretty sure we are all guilty of that right now. And there is also Leviticus 19:27, which is ‘Do not cut the hair at the sides of your head or clip off the edges of your beard.’ Your high and tight is kinda sinful, isn’t it?”

  Kelly’s mom looked over at her husband. “Is what he is saying true?”

  Mr. Aimes looked from her to Father Tim, his anger giving way to confusion. “No, of course not, right Father Tim?”

  He gave me a grin that looked more like a threat than an actual smile. “We are told that even the devil can quote scripture for his own good.”

  I smiled back at him. “Yes, we are told that by Shakespeare in The Merchant of Venice. Not quite the Bible, but close.”

  His eyes narrowed, his smile wearing thin now. “Maybe you’re right, Mr. Aimes. Maybe Kyle here should leave.”

  “Is what he said right?” Mrs. Aimes asked, her voice now close to panic. “Did he make those up, or are they from the Bible?”

  He sighed and looked away from me. “They are, but he is misinterpreting them for his own purposes.”

  “Isn’t that the whole business of religion, Father Tim?” I asked dropping the pretense of innocence now. “Interpreting a two-thousand-year-old book for its own uses?” I waited, while Father Tim lost his cool. Spectacularly.

  “Listen, you little queer.” Father Tim’s voice had lost whatever congeniality it had held when we started talking and I detected a slight drawl in his words. “I am not going to stand here and get lectured on the Bible by some faggot teenager who doesn’t know a thing about what he’s talking about.” He gave me a snide grin. “No offense.”

  “You call me queer and faggot like those words are supposed to hurt me,” I said, unfazed by his outburst. “I can imagine far worse things in the world to be, sir. An intolerant, inbred, hate-spewing hillbilly comes to mind.” His eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head, so I added a curt, “No offense.”

  That was when all hell exploded.

  BRAD

  I WAS through my second cup of coffee when I got a text from Kelly.

  Kelly: Your boy is crazy!

  That didn’t make any sense to me so I checked it twice before sending a text back.

  Brad: Huh?

  A few seconds later I got:

  Kelly: Dude, he is here laying down the smackdown!

  That didn’t sound good at all. Kyle was there?

  Brad: To who?

  Kelly: Preacher guy, better come quick, might come 2 blows

  “I need to go!” I hollered toward Tyler who was in the storeroom, and I raced out the door. I drove as fast as I could with the roads as icy as they were. Luckily it wasn’t like we had a ton of traffic in Foster, so I pretty much had the road to myself. Five minutes later, I pulled on
to Kelly’s street and gaped at what I saw. It looked like two people were scuffling on the front lawn; then I saw Kyle crash down on his back.

  I almost destroyed my car sliding it in front of the Aimes’s. I grabbed my practice bat from the backseat and jumped out of the car.

  It looked like that Russian dude from Rocky IV was beating the fuck out of Kyle on Kelly’s lawn. I could see Mrs. Aimes holding Kelly back with both her hands as he tried to charge into the fight. Mr. Aimes stood aside, staring. I didn’t know why what was going on had started, and I didn’t much care. Some stranger-asshole was beating my boyfriend. I set myself and swung with every bit of power I had and hit a good, solid double into the center of his back.

  The guy gagged and dropped Kyle in a hurry. Panting and trying to get himself breathing regularly, he slowly turned to face me.

  “Oh fuck,” was all I could muster as he looked down at the bat and then back up at me.

  “You’re dead,” he hissed. Just as the man-mountain started to jump at me, Kyle kicked his foot into the back of the guy’s knee. He buckled forward in shock, and I used the opportunity to land a foul tip into the guy’s gut. He fell down, his arms wrapped around his belly, groaning. I stood over him, both hands gripped tightly around my bat, and a red curtain of rage slowly descended over my vision.

  “I am going to kill you,” he gurgled at me, trying to get up.

  “You’re new here, so let me explain it to you,” I said, putting the bat up to his face and fighting off the insane urge to do to him what he’d done to Kyle. “That boy is my everything, and if you have hurt him, I will dedicate the rest of my life to ruining the rest of yours. If you don’t believe me, look into my eyes.”