I loved the cleansing effect it had on the world around me, the calmness it brought to my mind when I watched it fall through the window. Coupled with a soft warm blanket and a hot cup of tea, rain-watching became a spiritual experience for me, something special between me and God alone, a moment of connection in the peaceful ecstasy of the falling droplets of life.
The shattering tear of lightning through the sky, the rumbling ground, the dark clouds that shrouded the world in a short burst of chaotic fury. The roaring winds, the near demonic whistling through the trees, the shriek of thunder and the crackling flashes through the sky.
Ten years ago my father came up behind me during a thunderstorm, and put a heavy hand on my little shoulder. “Imagine it being ten thousand times worse than this.” He said, a smile on his face as he gazed at the downpour. “That’s what Armageddon will be like. This is only a mere fraction of what Jehovah will do.”
“Is Jehovah making the rain scary now?” I asked in the typical childish mindset.
“Yes, Jehovah does all of this, both directly and not.”
My little heart sank, because this was terrifying, and I thought I was supposed to find comfort with Jehovah.
“Daddy, why does Jehovah do scary things?”
“To remind us of his power, so that we fear him.”
“Why does he want us to be afraid?”
My father chuckled. “When Daddy tells you to do something nicely, you don’t always do it, do you?” I shook my little head. “But when Daddy gets his belt, you listen, right?”
“It’s like that, son. This is just Jehovah’s belt, making sure the world knows his sovereignty and never forgets it, even if we claim to.”
He patted me on the shoulder and walked away.
I’ve been terrified of thunderstorms ever since.
I was staring at my new work schedule. My first work schedule. Trisha had sent it to me through text.
I told her to give me as much time as she could, that I was ready and willing to work hard.
I had Mom look at the schedule so she’d know when to drop me off at the mall each day. She lowered her eyebrows.
“A lot of these days overlap into your service days, Kai.”
I nodded. “I can do both, I end service around 12, so I can get home, get dressed, and be at work by 1.”
“And then work until 8PM? I don’t want you burning yourself out with your first job.”
“Come on, I can do this Mom!”
“I have no doubt that you can, I’m saying after a couple days of this you won’t want to.”
Dad joined the conversation not long after, walking into the kitchen in his typical buttoned-up attire.
“How’d the job hunt go, Kai?”
“Really good. I start working at the arcade tomorrow.”
“I’m trying to help him balance his work schedule with his service schedule.”
“Always important, and how’s that going?”
She showed him the phone. “With service included he’s gonna be working from 8am to 8pm four days a week. That’s not even including meetings or studies. Can you please explain why that’s a bad idea for someone his age?”
“Well, Kai, you can’t slave for two masters.”
“I’m young and spry though, right?”
Mom patted my head condescendingly. “Yes but you’re not superman. You’re gonna have to either cut back on work hours or cut back on service hours.”
“Well now, he won’t be cutting back on any service hours.”
“Oh come on Tim, he’s more than excelling in service.”
“And it should stay that way, shouldn’t it, Margaret?”
“What about a compromise?” I piped up, “I could do letter writing to make up for any time lost.”
“Well, letter writing is not a replacement, Kai. Don’t you want to go to Bethel someday?”
“You do letter writing too, Dad. I saw a lady with one of your letters out in service the other day.”
“Oh really now?” Dad was intrigued, as far as I knew he never got to interact with anyone he sent letters to before. “What’d she say about it?”
I thought back to that day. “She didn’t say anything about it, just said she got a letter in a yellow envelope after her husband died.”
“Ah, yes, I think I remember her.”
“Well, why can’t I just do letter writing to make up for any service time I miss out on if you can?”
Dad rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged in Mom’s direction.
“Eh, fine. I don’t see why not.”
I was happier than I thought I could be with that. I took my phone back from Mom and informed Trisha that the schedule would be perfect for me.
You asked for a shit ton of hours, glad I could provide.
That night, Dad taught me how to get addresses to send letters to. First, we looked through the obituaries, and any addresses provided to send flowers or mail to, we jotted them down next to the names of the surviving family members.
I wrote them by hand on a sweet flowery letterhead, folded them up and added a brochure before sticking it inside an envelope and slapping it into a pile.
Dad patted me on the back once he was sure I had gotten the hang of it, and he left the room, giving me the freedom to either continue with letter writing or do something else for the night. I decided I’d do just one more, for a Mrs. Henrietta Finkle-Gates who had passed just yesterday.
Survived by her wife, Abigail Finkle-Gates.
We share the good news to everyone, right?
But, could I really promise Abigail that she’d see her wife again in paradise if God never approved of their marriage?
I was biting my nails more than I realized.
I went to Dad, showed him the obituary, and asked him what I should do.
“Just move on to the next one, son.” He said, leaving it at that.
But it felt wrong to just decide that this woman didn’t deserve to know God just because she had taken the wrong path in life.
“It’s not your place to judge her heart, Kai. If you feel compelled to write to her, do it.”
I wrote to her about Paradise, about the resurrection hope, about everlasting life in perfect health.
And I didn’t mention Jehovah’s stance on homosexuality once.
Trisha had her hand on her hip while she watched me wiping snot off the joystick of an arcade machine. I had gloves on, but it was still nauseating me, so I turned around to look at her and caught a cheeky smile on her face.
"So when's your boyfriend coming around again?"
My heart jumped at that. "Boyfriend?"
"The tall guy you're always leaning on and hugging."
"Oh, that's Alan, he's my best friend.” I turned back to the machine and decided it was clean before clarifying, “but we're not dating."
"Ohhh. That's right, JWs don't do the whole same love thing."
"It's very much looked down upon, yeah."
"Don’t you like him that way though?"
"Um, I don't swing that way."
"It's just, guys don't typically get physical with each other unless they're, yanno, dating."
"We're just really affectionate guys."
"Would you be offended if I called bullshit on that?"
"I'm not offended, I just don't see why you think there's something between us."
She was closer now, looking at me head on. "You're not the kind of guy to look people in the eye when they're speaking to you. Nothing wrong with that, but, when he speaks, you look at him, you look him straight in the eyes."
I shrugged, noting that my eyes were anywhere but on hers. "I feel comfortable with him."
"You're telling me you've never once had a romantic thought about him?"
"We were kids though, practicing for girls. It lasted like a second."
"And how many girls have you kissed since then?"
“So your only kiss ever was with him?”
"Look, I admit Alan and I are pretty close, maybe unusually close. But there's nothing romantic about our relationship."
"What do you feel when you touch him?"
"Idunno, warmth, comfort. Like, home, if home were a person."
"You blind? That's love, kid."
"Well I never think about him naked or being intimate or anything."
"That doesn’t matter. What do you think about then?"
"I think about the future, maybe getting a house together, yanno, a bachelor house. We could both be pioneers and we'd get to spend every day together."
"Is your gaydar this broken?"
"I'm not in love with Alan!"
"Kid, listen. I was raised Catholic, alright? I know the mental hoops kids in denial will go through to convince themselves that they're not queer. But it catches up to you one day whether you run from it or not, and being authentic is the only way to make sure you're not caught off guard when it does."
"Look, even if there was something between us, we’d never be able to be together anyways.”
“All I’m saying is to look inside your heart and decide for yourself what this is before you walk away from it for the sake of your religion. I’ve seen too many people deny who they love for the sake of the satisfaction of those around them.”
I took a moment to think about what she had said. I concluded pretty quickly that she was crazy; of course I didn’t love Alan romantically.
Getting called out on it shined a light on the state of my heart in a way I had never contemplated before.
I adored Alan, sure. I loved being around him and I was sure he felt the same. I felt giddy when I saw him, and sure, maybe I touched him a bit too much.
But I couldn’t help it. He felt like home to me. He felt like the warmth radiating from a fireplace in the dead of winter. He smelled like fresh brewed coffee on a cold morning and hot chocolate in the blizzard of the evening. He looked like the future, he looked like paradise, he looked like the missing half of my soul.
I could feel my heart gently dropping at the conclusion. Was that the only reason I wasn’t allowing myself to admit to this? Had I already sinned within my heart just for contemplating the matter?
And if this was love, what was I going to do about it anyways?
I pictured, for the sake of experimentation, his lips on mine, like they had been all those years ago for a mere second or less.
His lips on mine, his lips caressing my own, kissing me softly, inhaling me while I breathe him out.
I opened my eyes, my heart racing.
I looked into my own eyes in the reflection of a game’s black screen.
Nothing was the same after that.
I was too nervous to even text him after work, feeling like he would somehow be able to tell from my messages alone that I was starting to think of us differently.
My phone’s home screen being of us didn’t help my self accusations. How could you have been this stupid? This entire time you’ve been falling for him. Probably been tempting him too with how oblivious you are.
And if I was in love with him, what did that say about me? I never thought of myself as gay, I’ve always found girls cute, I think. I didn’t really think about girls, or guys, or romance in general. So, what was I? Bisexual? Was there another label for me? Should I even be contemplating a label at all? Was God watching me and shaking his head while I ran circles around my own mind?
Dad would kill me, he’d murder me if he found out his only son had the hots for his best friend. Mom would cry herself into a bottle of wine. My sister would never look at me the same again, the entire congregation would look at me differently if they found out.
Just as I was texting Mom to inform her that I was ready to get picked up from work, Alan messaged me.
Guess who just got Blue Life Destruction II!
I gulped. Alan would be so disappointed with the way I had started thinking about him.
Don’t let it in, Kai. I let it in, and it’s been eating me alive ever since.
If only I had listened to him, I thought. But no, I just had to go and make things difficult for myself.
I struggled to even string enough thoughts together to respond to his message.
It’s me, in case you were actually wondering :)
I wasn’t, but goddamn, he was adorable.
Sweet, wanna bring it over tomorrow?
I’m off work tomorrow, so, after service? ;)
Shoot, now he was using it too!
I shook my head at the rising heat in my cheeks. I did it, I let it in, just like Alan told me not to. And now I was falling head first into something I couldn’t control anymore.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him as I walked through the mall. Every thought of him made my heart skip a beat, everywhere I looked I remembered us walking through this place, sometimes even holding hands. People probably mistook us for a couple on multiple occasions and I had been none the wiser.
This was my fault, I didn’t struggle with same-sex attraction, Alan did. I just got careless, and now we’re in this mess.
But, was it really so wrong to just be in love with him?
Sure, it might hurt if he went on with someone new, especially if he ended up leaving the truth and dating a man, I’d feel completely betrayed. But in the meantime, would it be wrong just to admit my feelings for him?
It’s Jehovah’s command to never lie, isn’t it? That’s what I’ve been told. Men in the bible had been killed for lying, and I’d certainly be lying if I said I didn’t at least like Alan in a sort of romantic sense.
So, I had to admit it then. I had to admit I had feelings for him, at least to myself.
I was in the car with Mom, probably looking like a sad broken dog since she kept turning in my direction, each time nearly saying something but each time turning back to the wheel and ignoring the temptation to do so.
Within several minutes, she broke the ice. “What’s getting your goat, kiddo? This ain’t like you.”
I shrugged. “Just, hard day is all.”
“Well, if you wanna talk about it I’m here.”
I sighed. My mom was the one person in my life to always be on my side, and I was blessed to have her. If I could be open and honest about anything with anyone, it would be her.
“Homosexuality is condemned in the bible, right Mom?”
“It is. I’m guessing you heard about the incident with Alan?”
I perked up my ears and turned to her. “Incident?”
“He didn’t tell you?” She looked surprised.
“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
Mom raised her eyebrows and took a quick breath. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you then, but, Alan’s mother came over today and asked me for some advice. She had found some… questionable materials in his bedroom. Nothing pornographic, some magazines and the like, featuring, well, men.”
“Is he gonna get punished for it?”
“Probably not. He just needs some counseling.”
“Do you think Alan is gay?” I didn’t know if my mom knew, but I know she didn’t know I knew.
“No, he’s a curious young man, everyone has one moment or another where they wonder what it’s like to indulge a fantasy. We’re human.”
“Mom, what if I was gay?”
She looked a bit surprised, but ultimately kept her cool. “Well, do you think you’re gay?”
“A little as in, you think you might be bisexual?”
“Well, Kai, no matter what your feelings are, remember that it’s the act that Jehovah condemns, not feelings, not dreams, not even thoughts.”
“But I shouldn’t even think about it, should I?”
“You can’t always control your thoughts, kiddo. Direct yourself away from unclean thoughts but, you don’t have to constantly police your own mind.”
“What if I did, you know, act on it? What would happen to me?”
Her tone suddenly became decently stern, and she turned to look at me, having stopped at a light. “Kai, if you ever act on anything like that, you come talk to me first, alright? Don’t tell your dad first. He doesn’t have… a filter with stuff like that.”
“You saying there's stuff dad does have a filter with?”
“He’s a difficult man, but a good provider. None of us go without because of him. Everyone serves a purpose, Kai.”
Some part of me felt like “he serves a purpose” wasn’t a good look for Dad as a husband, but she didn’t need to tell me twice to keep this newfound desire of mine a secret from him.
Alan had been whisked away by virtual cowboys, traversing the wilderness of the old west on a massive black and white stallion he just bought since he couldn’t stand to steal one.
His fingers found home on the controller once more. Though the game allowed for mass amounts of violence and destruction, Alan played as a good boy, helping people instead of hurting them and playing more of a vigilante hero than a murderous psychopath.
I’d play the murderous psychopath if he’d let me play, which is exactly why he wasn’t letting me.
Regardless, I respected his privacy, unlike his mom had.
Unlike my mom had, to be fair.
“How was work today by the way?” Alan piped up as he picked virtual flowers in a virtual field.
“Oh, it was fine. My boss slash coworker Trisha had to help a kid climb out of the basketball game cabinet.”
“How’d he get in there at all?”
“Climbed in when nobody was looking I guess. Didn’t get hurt thankfully.”
“Gotta love how unintentionally suicidal kids are.”
“The guy I replaced came in today asking for severance pay, Trisha just kinda laughed him out.”
“The guy who disappeared?”
“Yeah, Trisha was pretty sure he was dead but I guess he just went off on a bender and didn’t even realize how much time passed. Left without any issues though so that ended up being uneventful. What about you, how was your day?”
“Oh, nothing much happened.”
“Well,” he paused the game, “had a bit of an issue with my mom today.”
He tried to wave it off, but didn’t return to the game. Instead he turned to his fingers, suddenly finding a strand of straying skin infinitely more intriguing than the screen in front of him.
“Mom found some pictures under my bed. Pictures I shouldn’t’ve had anyways.”
I already knew what all of this was about of course, but I couldn’t help but to pry a tad. “Pictures of?”
“Men, nothing nude, but men I found… attractive, in one way or another.”
“It felt like since it wasn’t graphic it was fine but, Matthew 5:28 states that even gazing lustfully at someone means you have committed adultery with them.”
“Well, surely having some pictures of guys under your bed isn’t the same as sleeping with a guy.”
“But Jehovah has stated that it is as bad. That’s what that scripture is saying. I’m a sinful man, Kai. And, I don’t know if I’ll ever be normal.”
Jehovah was speaking through him to me. No matter what Mom had said, gazing at someone with lust was a sin, plain as day.
Alan knew that. I knew that.
So why couldn’t I get him out of my head?
Without thinking much about it, I blurted out, “hey, we haven’t had a sleepover in a while, you know?”
He chuckled and returned his attention to the TV, resuming the game. “We’re a bit old for that, wouldn’t you say?”
“I wouldn’t say. Why not? We got that congregation picnic tomorrow, so you could just ride with us!”
“Well, alright, if your folks say it’s fine.”
“We can walk down to the corner mart, get snacks, binge SPURRED!”
“Heh, would your Mom let us make a pillow fort in the living room?” He was smiling, and I felt good for getting that smile out of him.
“She didn’t mind it ten years ago, I’m sure she won’t mind it now.”
“Are you boys seriously building a pillow fort in the living room?” She said it with amusement rather than true judgment. She was holding back an erratic chuckle when she caught sight of Alan crouched inside the fort like a caveman.
“Hey, would you rather we grow up too fast, or too slow?”
“Sometimes too fast and sometimes too slow.” She picked up one of her tasseled throw pillows that had unceremoniously dropped to the ground, and tossed it to Alan. “You boys want anything special for dinner?”
“Nah, we’re gonna fill up on sweets and popcorn.”
“Well I don’t want you both sick at the picnic tomorrow so could you at least promise me you’ll eat a vegetable at some point tonight?”
“Do fried mushrooms count?” I asked, turning to her as I laid a big sheet over the pillow towers we had erected.
“They stop counting as vegetables once they’ve been battered and fried, Kai.”
“Fine, we’ll swap popcorn for kale chips, that good enough?”
“Replace candy with fruit and you’ll make me even happier.”
She shrugged. “Jehovah can’t say I didn’t try.”
I returned my attention to Alan, who was currently inside the fort, dumping a bag of mixed candies into a big blue glass bowl.
Alan never had much of a sweet tooth, but he knew I did. He knew all my favorites, namely anything containing chocolate or at least tasting like chocolate, and gummies of every shape and flavor.
He was more into the savory; popcorn, chips, and yeah, he even liked the kale chips my mom kept around. He liked pistachios, and sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds and almonds. I could hardly stand most of it, but he loved it, and it was vice versa for him as well.
The graphic violence didn’t perturb Dad in the slightest however. Violence only bothered him if it was in a videogame we were playing, and since there was no magic in the show it was pretty much considered fine in this Jehovah’s Witness household.
Alan’s family didn’t feel the same about it though, so we usually only got to watch it together at my place.
More than once as we stayed up into the night, our fingers slid against each other as I’d reach for a kale chip or he’d sneak a candy, and I tried to pretend that my heart wasn’t aching for those moments to last longer than they could.
Maybe a sleepover was a bad idea, at least now when I was trying to figure out what my feelings were for him. Maybe it would have been better if I just sent him home, or told him the truth about my feelings so that he’d know to keep his distance from me physically, but I couldn’t.
I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t lose his touch, or his presence. I needed him in my life.
The fifth time it happened, I grasped his hand. He looked at me with surprise.
“Sorry.” He tried to pull away, must’ve assumed I just didn’t want him digging in my candy anymore. But I looked at him, looked him in his eyes. I smiled, I caressed his hand with my finger, and I let him go.
“Remember when we were kids?” I asked.
“Sure, doesn’t everyone?”
“Well, specifically, remember when I asked you how do you kiss a girl?”
He chuckled and turned red. “Sure I do, you were convinced that me being a year older than you was a whole lifetime ahead. Like I had all the answers.”
“You acted like you did.” I was smiling wide, fidgeting the fingers that had just held his hand. “Remember when we kissed just to practice on each other?”
He giggled. “We both thought we’d be doing a lot more girl-kissing by now.”
“I really miss being a kid. Didn’t have to second guess things like that the way we do now.”
“Well kinda, back then it didn’t mean anything but now, it carries a lot of weight.”
“Don’t you think it should? I mean, we understand now that it would be wrong of us to do stuff like that.”
“But, how far is too far? We hold hands and hug and stuff.”
“Yeah, but, it’s platonic.”
I reached for his hand again and looked up at him. “So this, this is fine?”
He nodded, but he looked torn.
I moved my hand up, to touch his shoulder, then caressed his cheek.
I was awake at the first sight of pale blue bleaching the night sky through the window just outside our fort. It was a sight that never lasted long, always being replaced by the sunrise soon after, then the near permanence of crisp daylight to follow.
This moment shortly before the sun rose was always special to me, probably because I usually slept through it when I could.
Alan wouldn’t be getting up for at least another hour or so, and then he’d be getting ready alongside my family before we headed out to the picnic around 9. It was bound to be a day full of activities with the friends, and I was genuinely excited for it.
But this moment, where he was sleeping peacefully next to me, his hair messy from tossing around on the pillow for the calmer half of the night, his eyes dipped shut and caught in a dream, his breathing gentle and barely audible, I took it in.
I took it and wrapped it around my finger to never forget it. I took in every sensation, my body inches away from him, a resisted instinct deep inside to wrap my arms around him and awaken him with a kiss on his cheek.
Were these feelings always here; calmly condensed under the surface, just waiting for the bottle to pop so they could spill out everywhere like the foam of a fine champagne?
I found it harder to resist my affection for him as the seconds dragged on, each wave of emotion chipping away at the wall I had built around that bottle, breaking in and shaking it up before that cork popped out, audibly, and out poured my love for Alan Rodriguez.
Love, I always knew I loved him, but this was different. And I was having just as much difficulty figuring out how it was different as I was figuring out how it was the same.
I reached my hand out to just gently caress his hair. Soft, so soft I could sleep on it. His hair felt ephemeral, unreal between my fingers. Like I was touching the feathers that made up the wings of an angel himself.
The strands between my digits electrified my veins, I twirled his hair around my fingers and reveled in the feeling of warmth and butterflies that engulfed me like an unholy flame.
I pulled my hand away, scolding myself.
This would be the death of both of us if I gave in. Alan was probably holding on by a thread, if I fell down with him then it would seal our fate. We’d become brutally inflamed with one another, just as we had been warned before. There would be no turning back if I dived in with him, his blood would be on my hands.
But my sudden regard for righteousness didn’t erase the fact that Alan was still here next to me, still my temptation, still growing like a tumor that feeds off forbidden love.
They tell you, “if your right eye causes you to stumble, throw it out.” But Alan wasn’t my eye, he wasn’t a body part I could live without. He was what made my life worth living more than half the time.
He was far less of an eyeball, more like a chamber in my heart, pumping life through my veins, beating in tune and keeping me breathing. Losing him would devastate me, losing him would make everything worthless.
I would rather stumble and struggle with my feelings for him than to ever let him go.
I was excited for the congregation picnic that day.
Was excited. I was excited right up until Nathan Tuppin caught my eye, his hands holding a plate of cookies covered with plastic wrap.
He looked pretty damn excited to see me, though it was likely my sister Loretta behind me who he was more interested in.
“King of Judah! How are you doing on this fine day?”
I gave him a clearly fake smile. “I’m great.” I was pretty great, I had Alan by my side, free food ahead, beautiful lakeside view, life was great.
If only Nathan would leave I’d be perfect.
“And the lovely Lorrie!” He turned his attention to my sister, giving her a hug before introducing himself to my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Whitman, I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to meet? I’m Nathan Tuppin. I just moved to the hall.”
My mom nodded, my father greeted him with half as much enthusiasm. “Nathan, yeah, I’ve heard about you, what brought you to our hall?”
We were walking alongside him, we were so far away from the actual picnic you’d think Nathan had arrived with us. The guy went on for a bit about how he pioneered back home, was the son of an elder and even that one of his uncle’s was a governing body helper back in Bethel. But he came to our hall after moving in with his grandmother, who was sickly and could only listen to the meetings through the phone.
“Oh! You’re sister Paulson’s grandson!”
“Yeah, I’m helping her a lot right now. She needs assistance with groceries and the like. I make sure the house is clean and help her with letter writing for field service.”
“Oh, Kai just started doing letter writing for the first time, haven’t you Kai?”
“Yep.” I could see the picnic in the near distance, brothers and sisters setting up plates and laying out food on the tables while kids ran around and played with sticks and bubbles and inflated balls. Patricia was tossing a filthy white volleyball to two kids when she turned around and caught my eye, and she beamed when she saw Alan by my side.
“Oh, I could give you some great tips, Hezekiah.” Nathan chuckled at me. I continued to ignore him.
“Don’t mind my brother.” Lorrie piped up, getting closer to Nathan so she could chat him up next. “He stayed up all night watching TV with Alan.”
“Oh man, I miss those days. To be a kid again.”
“Sure, sure.” He laughed, like I actually was just a kid to him. The nerve of that guy.
About twenty feet away, I saw Sister Dearcy getting a coke from the cooler. I quickly said something about wanting to go tell her about my job, and booked it out of there.
Alan followed behind, I waved to Sister Dearcy and the sweet woman made her way onto the grass to meet me.
“Kai! How’s my favorite little brother doing?” She acknowledged Alan. “Sorry, my two favorite brothers.”
“Great! I started working at the arcade!”
“Oh see, child? Prayer does work!”
“You said it, Sister Dearcy!”
“Sister, how’s Professor Mittens doing?” Alan asked, apparently being privy to a pet of Sister Dearcy’s that I didn’t even know she had.
“Oh, it looks like we’re gonna have to put him down sadly. But he’s 18 years old, he’s had a good long life for a cat.” Damn, not only did I not know she had a cat but the poor thing is on its deathbed too.
“Awh, I’ll come see him before he’s ready to pass on then. Mind if I bring him a can of tuna?”
“Bring him whatever you want, dear! I been spoiling him mad since we got the news. We gotta make his last days as enjoyable as can be!”
“I didn’t even know you had a cat, Sister, I’m sorry about him though.”
“Oh, Alan comes by to see him every other Saturday, don’tchu, Alan?”
“Well, I go help with mowing the lawn and picking weeds around the house, Professor Mittens just keeps an eye on me and makes sure I do a good job.”
“And you always do!” She rubbed his shoulder affectionately, I smiled. Alan was so damn sweet. When’s the last time I offered to help the elderly friends in the congregation? I paled in comparison to the kind of man Alan was, in every respect.
I didn’t envy him though. I loved him.
I wished he could love me too, in the same way.
We moved on in the day. After a round of kickball in the field with some other teens and a couple older brothers, we sat down for a snack on the lake, me and Alan and this little blonde kid who wouldn’t stop following us around, little “Jake-the-Cake” as he kept calling himself.
The kid was playing in the water, his mother being far too trusting of us to keep her son out of trouble. But Jake-the-Cake hadn’t caused horrible injury to himself or anyone else yet, so we relaxed and ate our smoked ham sandwiches in tandem.
“The poor Professor.” I muttered out, Alan nodded.
“He’s an old boy, just how things go in this world.”
“You think Sister Dearcy will see him again in paradise?”
He tried not to laugh. “I wish animals could get resurrected. But I guess Jehovah can really only make room for people, can’t he?”
“Yeah, guess it wouldn’t be fair. Least we got each other forever though.”
“Yeah.” He looked at me, happy. I reached for his hand, caressed the top with my palm as we shared that moment of connection, uninterrupted, until…
“You guys ain’t going to paradise.” Jake pointed to us. I scowled at the kid.
“What makes you say that?”
“Cause you’re gay, and gay people don’t go to paradise.”
I moved my hand away from Alan’s. “What makes you think we’re gay?”
“You’re two boys and you’re holding hands, that makes you gay!”
“Quiet down, no need to be saying stuff like that.” Alan gave a hushing motion, hoping he could redirect the kid to less antagonizing things he could be shouting by the lake.
“Gay! GayGayGayGayGayGayGay!” He was on a rampage now, spinning in a circle, hardly understanding the words coming from his own little mouth. “Gay people are gonna die! Gay people don’t get to paradise! Gay people are stupid!”
To my shock, Alan got up, grabbed the kid by the shoulder and knelt down to his level before looking him in the eyes and saying sternly, “that’s not for you to decide. That’s not for any human to decide. Only Jehovah determines who’s going to paradise and who doesn’t.”
“But Jehovah says it’s bad to be gay!”
“And is your name Jehovah?” He nearly stumped him, I could tell the kid was deciding his next words carefully.
“Gay! Gay gay gay!” He ripped away from Alan’s grasp and ran off towards the lake again, tripping on a rock and falling face first into the cold wet below.
His first sounds upon lifting his head up out of the water were not ill-informed ventings about gay people, but a blood curdling cry for his mom.
“Mommy! Moooommy!” He ran back in the direction of the picnic, Alan turned to me and looked ashamed of himself.
I wasn’t too bothered. “Kids are suicide machines, ain’t they?”
“You don’t think I was too harsh?”
“Hey, not like you threw him in the water. He got what he deserved.”
I took a bite of my sandwich. He shrugged. “He’s just a kid, he’s got no clue what he was saying.”
“And you corrected him best you could.” I shrugged right back, and patted my hand down where he had been sitting just a few minutes prior. “You ain’t his mom.”
Alan wasn’t sitting down, he was still standing, holding himself with crossed arms and looking out over the lake.
“Maybe we are a bit too touchy with each other, Kai.”
“Come on, Alan, we’re close friends. Friends can touch each other.”
“But, when we touch,” his breath shook, “it’s not like touching family, or touching a friend it’s more like… Fire.”
My heart started dancing when he said it. “Fire?”
“Warm, inviting but, wrong. Like I’ll hurt you, or you’ll hurt me.”
I put down my sandwich, put the plate to the side, and got up to walk over to him. I wanted to hug him, tell him it was fine, but I didn’t touch him. “You’re my best friend, Alan.”
“And you’re mine too, Kai, but…” He gulped. “You know I’m struggling with my sexuality right now.”
“I would never let things go too far between us.”
“Would you? Because it feels like you don’t want to take this nearly as seriously as you should.”
“I know myself more than you do, I know there’s a line and I know if we haven’t crossed it then we will eventually.”
“What are you saying then?”
“I’m saying we need to be careful. About what we do, how it’s perceived by others, regardless of our own feelings. What if we seriously stumble someone?”
“Stumble who? That dumb little kid who doesn’t even know what gay means?”
“We could stumble ourselves, Kai. If we haven’t already.”
I was trying to keep myself from getting upset. I considered just turning around and walking away, but he already started to do that exact thing before I could even respond.
“I love you, Alan.” I said behind his back. I saw him nod from behind his shoulder; I knew it meant he loved me too.
He grabbed his plate from off the bench, and turned to me. “I’m gonna go hang out with the friends, I’ll see you later, Kai.”
“Sure.” I waved goodbye, and returned to my spot on the bench as he walked away.
My heart was torn nearly in two. I felt like I just got broken up with, the subject of my affection letting me down easy but letting me down regardless.
I looked back at the picnic, Alan was chatting with Patricia, she was holding a can of soda pop and twirling her hair while she looked up into his brown eyes.
I envied her at that moment, because if she fell in love with him then that would be fine, she could be open and honest about her feelings and he could reciprocate them if he was inclined. But I knew he wasn’t inclined, he would never be inclined.
But he was inclined towards me. He felt that fire with me, not with her.
And she could have him if she wanted him. But I couldn’t even speak of my affection for him. It was a sin.
I turned my attention to Nathan, who had paired off with Lorretta somewhere not far from the picnic. They were talking, he was putting a flower in her hair and she was giggling.
And as much as I hated Nathan, he could be with Lorretta. He could hold her hand and kiss her and marry her and that was fine because she was born one way and he was born another way.
And I felt for Alan with far more intensity than I was sure Nathan could have conjured up after meeting my sister only twice, yet if they wanted to, they could get married.
But I could never marry the man I loved, because we were born the same.
