by L. A. Witt
He inched closer, and his tone softened. “Why do we keep fighting this so hard?”
“I….” Can’t be with someone like you no matter how much I want you? “I told you. I’m not in a good place for a relationship.”
“Okay. I can accept that. But….” He held my gaze so intently it was unnerving. “Where does that leave us? I mean, are we friends? Is this”—he gestured down the hall toward my bedroom—“something you want to keep doing?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I guess that depends on whether or not it’ll make things weird.” Or if it’s already made them weird. “Or if it’s something you aren’t comfortable with. The casual sexual thing.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about it, to be honest. It’s never something I saw myself doing. Whatever this is, it… I guess it just happened, and there’s only so many times it can keep happening before I have to figure that out. If I’m comfortable continuing like this, I mean, or if I want us to take things seriously.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“And to be perfectly blunt,” he said, “whenever I do think about that, I just can’t help thinking whether we continue this casually or more seriously, we’re going to end up in the same place.”
My heart jumped into my throat. “And that place is where?”
“Only one way to find out.” His eyes locked on mine, and my stomach somersaulted, especially when he added, “Personally, I’d like to skip the games and take the direct route.”
But does all of this terrify you like it does me?
“Listen, the truth is….” I paused, chewing my lip.
Darren’s fingers tapped against the door, a gesture that I hoped came from restlessness and not impatience. “The truth is, what?”
“Not something you’re going to want to hear.”
“Try me.”
I rubbed some stiffness out of the back of my neck. “As much as we get along, and as much as we rock in bed together, I really don’t think we’re cut out to be in a relationship.”
“Oh.” He was quiet for a moment. “Why?”
“Well.” Here goes. No turning back. “It’s… I’ll be honest. It has to do with our beliefs.”
“What do you mean? The fact that you’re an atheist and I’m a Christian?”
“And that you’re a minister.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” He wasn’t hostile. Not even a little put off, from the sound of it. Which only made this that much harder, and set my teeth on edge. Damn you for being so fucking easygoing!
“I told you I was raised in a fundamentalist household, and I was disowned by my family and excommunicated from my church. And I—”
“And I don’t condone what they did,” he said. “You should know me well enough by now to know something like that would horrify me.”
“Maybe so, but it was their beliefs that led them to do what they did.”
Darren shifted his weight. “So if you took my beliefs out of the equation, would we be having this conversation? Is that the only thing keeping you from seeing if we can make this work?”
“It’s not exactly a small thing.”
“No, it isn’t.” He narrowed his eyes. “But it’s one of those things we could work around if we thought it was worth it.”
“I never said it wouldn’t be worth it,” I snapped. “But some obstacles just can’t—”
“Obstacles?” He forced out a breath. “So what if we have a difference in beliefs? Do you think everyone who’s ever dated has been in 100 percent agreement on everything?”
“Of course not. But there are things that are difficult to compromise on. And it’s not just what you believe. Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you supposed to help people get saved? Evangelize? Convert?”
His expression hardened. “I’m not interested in converting you.”
“Yeah? And how long will that last?” I asked through clenched teeth. “Seriously, how long can you really see yourself being with me when I’m—”
“If I couldn’t see myself with you as you are right now,” he said, his voice unsteady, “I wouldn’t have started this conversation.”
My heart plummeted into my feet. “I just don’t see how we could make this work. How I could ever relax into our relationship without waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Darren blinked. “The other shoe to drop? What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t know how to not be afraid of what happened with my family.”
“You mean….” He moistened his lips. “You mean, you’re afraid I’d do to you what your family did? Even though I’m gay too?”
“I know it doesn’t make sense. Not rationally. But the fact is, you’re a Christian. My life was turned on its ass by Christians because of their beliefs. And….” I paused, struggling to find the words. “You’re like two sides of a coin for me. You’re the man I can’t stop thinking about and couldn’t stop wanting if I tried. But in a lot of ways, you’re also the man my family wishes I was, and would take me back if I was. You’re too much of them.”
The words hit harder than I thought they would. And farther below the belt. And only after they were out, and after Darren’s eyes had widened in “Did I just hear what I think I just heard?” fashion, did I realize what I’d actually said.
Then he narrowed his eyes again. “So your family and your church booted you out because you’re gay.” The tense undercurrent in his voice made my heart stop. Laid-back Darren at the end of his tether. “So you can’t get involved with me, another gay man, solely because I belong to the same religion they do? Even though every time we’ve even discussed our beliefs, I’ve been just as civil and open-minded as you have? You know, not beating you over the head and proselytizing like they apparently did?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but what to say? I’d wanted him to finally react to something, to quit being so calm and perfect and unruffled by everything, and now he was coming unraveled faster than I could cope with. Faster than I could adapt to.
I swallowed. “You don’t think—”
“You know, I can’t win.” He threw up his hands. “There are Christians who openly and rather vehemently shun me because I’m gay. And then in the gay community, I’m kept at arm’s length because I’m a Christian. No matter which group I’m around, I’m shut out for being one of ‘them.’” And all at once, the anger crumbled in favor of something a lot less hostile and a lot more painful. His voice wavered just slightly as he said, “Do you really think I would ever use my faith as a weapon against you, Seth?”
I flinched. “Do you think I thought my own family would?”
“You want to put me in the same category as Westboro Baptist while you’re at it?” The anger was back in full force, but the waver remained, like he was as close to losing his temper as he was to just breaking down. “How is what you’re saying to me any different from what everyone has done to you? Because of a vital part of who I am, a part of me I have never once tried to force on you or even bring into a conversation more than I thought you were comfortable with, you can’t be around me?”
“I never said I couldn’t be around you. I just don’t see how we could make a relationship work.”
He snorted. “Yeah. No kidding. When you can’t see me as anything other than ‘one of them’”—he added emphatic air quotes—“just like your family can’t see you as anything other than a gay man.” He shook his head and released a sharp breath. “You know, you’re so worried I’m going to hammer my beliefs down your throat or try to convert you every chance I get, but do you even listen to yourself, Seth? You brought our beliefs into this, not me.”
I folded my arms tightly across my chest. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to stop equating me with the people who hurt you. I’ve never hurt you. Just because I’m a believer does not mean—”
“You’re not just a believer, Darren, you’re a minister. You live, breathe, and preach the bel
iefs that damn near ruined my fucking life.”
“No. No, I do not.” He stabbed a finger at me. “I had no part in that, Seth. What I live and breathe is the set of beliefs that makes me want to help kids off the street after they’ve been thrown out by parents like yours. How can you put me in the same category as your family?”
“Because you’re fucking preaching out of the same goddamned book they used to fucking disown me!”
Darren stared at me, his eyes wide and lips apart.
“Sorry.” I paused, shaking my head. “I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to curse, I….”
His eyebrows rose. “You think the cursing was the most offensive part of that?”
“Darren—”
“No.” He put up a hand. “I’ve heard enough.” He reached for the doorknob. “And I’m glad we had this talk now. The sooner the truth came out, the better.”
There was a two-second window between his hand landing on the doorknob and him making his escape. A few more seconds for him to get across the hall into his own apartment. Maybe fifteen total, a short window during which I could have stopped him. Or at least tried to stop him.
But I didn’t.
I let him go.
My door slammed.
Seconds later, so did his.
I dropped onto the sofa and sighed, rubbing my forehead with the heels of my hands. I didn’t even know what to feel. Guilty? Relieved? Both? Fuck, I had no idea. All I knew was Darren was gone.
Right across the hall, but definitely gone.
Chapter Twelve
I MADE it through the next day on autopilot. The day after that, I could barely concentrate on my work, so I canceled all my afternoon and evening appointments, as well as the next day’s. That would hurt come the first of the month, but I’d have an easier time sorting out a late rent payment with Al than I would fixing or explaining a botched tattoo.
This never happened to me. I’d worked on a giant, elaborate back piece just hours after a massive fight ended my last relationship. I didn’t let shit distract me from my work, but now I was lucky I knew which way to point the tattoo needle. What the hell?
I couldn’t stop thinking about Darren. It was like two film reels playing in my head at the same time. One was a montage of everything that made me miss him: the outreach, talking over beers, having amazing sex. And the other, running right beside the first, was that argument. I simultaneously saw us laughing over a shared joint and Darren looking at me like he was this close to tears. I heard him coming in the same instant I heard the door slamming.
I was losing my motherfucking mind.
Finally I gave up on trying to clear my mind and decided I needed to cloud it a bit. I grabbed my jacket, the one with the plastic bag in the pocket, and went up to the roof. I pulled a chair and the small table out from under the tarp and set them up in my usual spot against the railing.
I put the bag and lighter on the table, the mint tin clinking quietly on the hard plastic surface, but I didn’t roll the joint yet. There wasn’t much in the world I wanted more than to get as stoned as I possibly could tonight. Alcohol would only depress me. The weed would let me check out and not give a fuck for a few hours.
Except my head was already a muddled mess. Too restless to get stoned? Wasn’t that an oxymoron? But hell, I was so distracted and wound up, I couldn’t even remember the steps that would get me from this point to blissfully baked off my ass.
I couldn’t sit still, so I finally got up and paced back and forth beside the railing. The wind fluttered the edges of the plastic bag still sitting on the table, but my lighter and the mint tin kept it from flying away.
I glanced at the door leading to the stairs. A memory flickered through my mind of Darren wandering up here, sitting down, and joining me for a smoke. Sitting in one of those chairs across from that plastic table and taking a drag like he’d done this before. Totally relaxed and friendly, no clue at all about the conversation we’d eventually have in my living room.
We’d just been two guys that night. We’d smoked enough to relax, but we’d still been coherent enough to talk. For a while, he hadn’t been a minister and I had never been hurt enough by my church and family to be gun-shy about him anyway. Just two guys, a couple of joints, and an hour or two of talking like we’d been friends all our lives.
Just like we had when we’d talked over beers the first night. And when I’d tattooed his back. And while we’d been out hiking together. And after the night we’d gone to the outreach.
Exactly how I’d always imagined it would be with the perfect boyfriend.
All the restless energy evaporated and I sank into the chair, letting my face fall into my hands. How long had I spent psyching myself up to end things with him before they’d really even started? Trying to work up the nerve to find the words to explain why, no matter how much I wanted him, I couldn’t be with him?
But this wasn’t the right ending. This was never what I’d wanted.
Seth, your parents cost you a lot of good things in your life. Michael’s words echoed in the back of my mind. Don’t let them cost you this too.
Oh God. What had I done?
And what the hell did I do now?
TWENTY MINUTES later, at the front door of Lights Out, the bouncer gave me a quick nod and waved me in.
“Jason’s in his office,” he shouted, and I thanked him over the music before heading upstairs.
As usual, Jason was swimming in paperwork, his shoulder tight and probably painful as fuck by now, but he relaxed a little when I stepped into his office.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Want to take a break?” I asked. “I’m guessing you could use it.”
He eyed me, and I suspected my own tension was written all over me as much as him. He pushed his chair back and rose. Neither of us spoke as we left his office and headed down the hall. Our feet clanged on the metal stairwell up to the roof where his employees took their breaks when it was nice out, and where he and I sometimes hung out when I came by to visit. I might as well have been a damned cat for all the time I spent on roofs these days.
Jason rolled his shoulders and reached up to rub the side of his neck.
“Man, you ever going to dump some of that crap on someone else?” I asked. “Before this place kills you?”
Jason lowered his hand, rolled his shoulder one more time, and then smiled. “Actually, now that the cash flow’s improving, I’m working on hiring someone. Got a few interviews this week, so with any luck? Within two weeks, yes, I’ll be dumping this crap on someone else.”
“About fucking time,” I said.
“Tell me about it.” He folded his arms and rested them on the concrete railing. “So what’s up? You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“Pretty close.” I rubbed my own stiffening neck. “You remember my neighbor? The minister?”
“The one you’re fucking?”
“Was fucking.”
“Oh.”
I closed my eyes. Rubbed my forehead with the heel of my hand. “You ever done something that made perfect sense at the time, and then after the fact, you realized it was a colossal fuckup?”
“You mean like buying a house with my ex?” he muttered.
“Exactly.” I blew out a breath.
“So what happened?”
“I broke it off with him because… because after everything I went through when I was younger, I don’t trust religious people.”
Jason nodded. “So you broke it off with this guy because he’s a Christian?”
Heat rushed into my cheeks, and I avoided Jason’s eyes. “It made perfect sense until right about the time he was walking out of my apartment. I thought I was doing the right thing by nipping it in the bud, but right then, I realized I’d made a huge goddamned mistake. And now….” I ran a hand through my hair. “I have no idea what to do.”
“Talk to him?” Jason said. “See if you can try again?”
“Assum
ing he’ll talk to me.” I rested my hip against the concrete railing. “I mean, I’m not sure we can make it work anyway, but we—”
“Who says you can’t make it work? Just because he’s a minister?”
The Seth from a few days ago wanted to lash out and scoff. Just because he’s a minister? That’s a pretty significant thing when I’ve been fucked over by people who buy what he’s selling.
But it was amazing how insignificant something like that became when the alternative was missing out on someone like Darren.
I shook my head. “I thought we couldn’t. Maybe we can’t. I mean, think about it. How can we make something like this work? Religious beliefs aren’t something people can compromise on. It’s like having kids: there’s no halfway. But I…. Fuck, I don’t even know anymore. I’ve been guarding myself from religious people for so long after what happened with my parents, and this just came out of nowhere.”
“This being what happened with your neighbor?” Jason arched an eyebrow. “Or this being you finding someone you can see yourself with and then pushing him away because you’re scared? And I don’t mean scared of what he believes, but of what he is.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve known you for a long time, and I’ve seen you shy away from one guy after another for all kinds of reasons when the real reason was totally transparent, but I never said anything because I’ve never seen you get this hung up on a guy before.”
I shifted my weight, my sneaker scuffing on the concrete. “Is that right?”
Jason nodded. “The only reason I’m saying something now is that just listening to you, I can tell you think just like I do that you’re fucking up something you shouldn’t.”
I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear the answer, but I asked anyway: “So what’s the real reason, then?”
He didn’t reply immediately, and I thought he might be waiting for me to put the pieces together. Finally he said, “I know you have legitimate reasons to be wary of people of the religious persuasion. I’m not discounting that here. But what happens if you take religion completely out of the picture?”
