by L B Winter
“Paul, you can’t come back here and live in sin. We won’t allow it. We can’t just act like everything’s back to normal with this still going on.”
“But I can’t help it, Dad, I—”
“No. I’m sorry, Paul, but no. You come home having finished the program, or you don’t come home at all. And that’s final.”
And then he hung up. I looked at my feet. They weren’t coming for me. They didn’t want me home. True, somewhere inside me, I felt like it was an empty threat; I knew if I came home, they’d take me in. But I couldn’t stand to keep on disappointing everybody. I couldn’t stand up under all these expectations anymore. My eyes blurred with tears, but I felt like steel inside. Resolved, resigned. This was it.
Cal came into the office then, and he asked if I was alright. He was the only person who’d been kind to me all day. The pastor spewed fire-and-brimstone at me. The other counselors told me I was breaking God’s heart into pieces. But Cal—thin, black-haired, sandals-wearing Cal—walked up and hugged me, and after a few moments, I knew that I could get through this. I could survive.
Cal picked up my duffel bag and asked when my parents were coming to pick me up. I lied and said I was taking the train. He frowned and asked if I had any money, and I showed him my wad of bills from the ATM.
“We arranged it before I left,” I explained, “so I could take the train home.”
Cal called me a taxi and waited while I got in and rode away, paying the driver in advance to take me to the train station. I wondered if Jamie would come say goodbye, but he didn’t. In fact, nobody else did. Just Cal. It was like the rest of them were shunning me, like they’d washed their hands of me. It was the dirtiest I’d ever felt, but I didn’t know then how much worse I would feel when I got to Philadelphia.
CHAPTER 4
It Gets Better
__________
I like to pretend when I got home with Trent, things went right back to normal. But the fact of the matter is, it took time. It took a long time.
The drive back to New Tower, though, felt like it took no time at all. My stomach was in nervous knots, and the flurry of emotions I felt had me teetering on the brink of tears for most of the drive. On the highway with Trent, I realized how wonderful these strangers were being to me, and how rare this was. I didn’t even need to wonder if I could trust Trent before we left for this road trip; I knew he would take me where he said he would because he’d been so kind so far, just like Lynn. It was instinctual for me to trust them, and it was amazing what these people were doing for me. This time yesterday I was stinking, wearing ripped up, filthy clothes, hiding under a tattered blanket in the bush by the river, waiting for the midday heat to cut through the wind so I could walk up the road and start scrounging for something to eat. Today I was fed, dressed, and clean, and for once I could feel my feet. It was so strange, because before this I was surrounded by people from Freedom who treated me like I was diseased, and yet these people cared about me, and made me feel like I deserved love. Like maybe I wasn’t all bad. And maybe, when I saw my mom…. I stopped thinking about it. I couldn’t let myself hope, not yet.
I started asking Trent about the fashion business in the car; it was a long drive, and I figured that was the polite thing to do. He told me that he designed and sewed hats and bags, while Lynn did all the business-end of things.
“We started East Chic together online as part of a project for one of my classes. My hats and bags were really popular, and she had a friend in my program who hooked us up. We decided to collaborate. So we’ve been working together ever since. We just leased our storefront last fall. We’re not rolling in money yet, but it hasn’t been bad.”
“I never thought of hats and bags as like…I don’t know.”
He glanced at me, smiling. “I bet you never think much about them one way or the other, kid. But women tend to like them, and you know, I like them, too. Our fabrics are modern, our cuts are modern, we work with the best manufacturers.”
He went on for a while, but it wasn’t boring. You know how, when someone’s really passionate about something, it just isn’t boring to hear them talk about it? That’s Trent, all the way. He told me he loved women’s clothes, and even used to perform at a local club in drag when he was in college. That’s how he met his partner, Steven. I almost laughed picturing it. Trent was kind of hilarious, when you got to know him. I realized his deadpan delivery and serious face hid an almost constant layer of dry humor.
“I never pictured you as a funny person, Trent,” I said after a particularly hilarious comment.
“What? Why not?”
“I don’t know. You’re just really…like…tall, I guess.”
“I can’t be funny because I’m tall?”
I shook my head. “No, evidently you totally can.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Crazy kid. Okay, we’re coming up on your exit. What do I do after this?”
I directed Trent through town to my house—my old house—getting more and more nervous by the second. What if they didn’t want me home? What would I do? Would Trent just drop me off here? I couldn’t decide what would be worse: letting him watch my rejection or being abandoned here by him and being rejected alone. The other option, the too-good-to-be-true option, I wouldn’t even let myself think about.
I didn’t realize I’d sunk down in my seat until Trent nudged my knee with his hand and said, “Sit up. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”
I watched him curiously, wondering again what he thought he knew about me. What he’d guessed correctly.
It was the weekend, so Mom was home, but Dad must have been at the church, probably wrapping up Sunday business. Trent walked me to the door and knocked, leaving me no time for hesitation. Mom opened the door and saw him first, and she seemed leery of him. But then she saw me.
“Paul, sweetie. What are you doing here?” Her eyes glazed over with concern—but then, she turned her attention to Trent. “And who are you?” she said over my shoulder, after pulling me into a tight hug.
“Trent Donnerfeld, ma’am,” Trent said over my shoulder.
“Pauly, go inside,” she said, kissing the side of my head and pushing me in the door behind her. Who knew what she thought of all this? Probably that Trent was my illicit, adult lover. But after a moment, I heard the low echoes of Trent’s voice through the door, and my mother’s gasp, and more from Trent, and then a calmer, concerned voice from her. It was surreal. This was absolutely surreal.
I wandered into the house, amazed how nothing had changed—though I suppose it would have been odd for much to change since Thanksgiving, when I’d last been home. That was when we’d hung all the Christmas lights, still giving everything a festive, merry glow. It smelled like vanilla candles, and the tall ceilings were bright, and hard-wood floors looked as clean and smooth as they’d been when I’d slid around on them in stocking feet as a kid. It was all the same—but I was so, so different.
I walked into the living room and sat on the couch, and that’s where I was when Mom came back in. She was alone, and I heard a car door slam outside and knew that Trent was on his way. But I couldn’t spare much attention for him; Mom was wiping one eye with the edge of her blouse.
“Baby,” she said, sitting beside me and pulling me into her arms. “I thought you were safe at Freedom. I can’t believe that place—they never called us or told us a single thing! How they run a place like that, I’ll never know. They will be hearing from our lawyers, I’ll tell you that!”
She was getting worked up, and I said, “Mom—I told you guys I was leaving. You knew they kicked me out.”
“I certainly did not!” She said. “Dad said you called, and you agreed to stay. And for heaven’s sake, I paid them!” she added. “What kind of program like this kicks out children who need them?” Mom can be pretty business-like sometimes, but then her face changed. She said in a softer tone—almost softer than I’d ever heard from her before, “Baby, if I’d known you though
t you couldn’t come home…” She shook her head, taking my face in her hands. “You can always come home, Paul. Always, always, always.” Then she abruptly pulled back and said, “Oh, your father! I have to call your father!”
I found out that the clinic and I had apparently gotten our signals crossed about what had been told to my parents, so Mom and Dad thought I was safe, though unhappy, and being reoriented until I showed up at their door. I was relieved, in a way, that they hadn’t known I was missing. They would have been as traumatized as I was. Don’t even get me started on how mad Mom was that Dad made me feel like I couldn’t come home; but then she went easy on him, because he was hard enough on himself. I think he hugged me every five minutes, and I caught him crying more than once. So, that sucked.
Because I’d been through so much—Mom heard a little bit about it from Trent, apparently—they didn’t want to make me talk at first. That whole first week was just a blur of Mom shoving food down my throat—“I cannot believe you lost this much weight!”—and Dad making cryptic comments—“Maybe we have it all wrong, Pauly.”
Eventually, when we did talk about it, Dad really surprised me. He said, “I’m sorry that we—I mean, that I—made you think you couldn’t come home if your treatment didn’t work out. That was never, ever true.”
“Okay,” I said, and I blinked back the tears that I hadn’t realized were waiting in the wings.
“Paul, you know Mom and I don’t condone the gay lifestyle. But you’re still our son. We know you’d change it if you could, and we love you no matter what.”
I wished they had told me before I’d gone away that they loved me no matter what, and this would always be my home. Maybe they thought it went without saying, but it didn’t—and it mattered. I had run away because I thought they didn’t love me just how I am. But they did. What Dad had said was so close to enough. Just fractions of inches from enough, really.
“You’re really okay with it if I can’t change?”
“I’m really okay with it,” Dad said.
He glanced at Mom, and she eagerly added, “Me, too, honey. I’ve been thinking for a while that might be the case, and it doesn’t make any difference to me.”
I smiled—the feeling almost foreign now to my face.
“Even though I’m gay, I still don’t have to act on it,” I added, hopeful of who knew what. “Like, I can’t control how I feel, but I can control what I do.”
I don’t know why I suggested that; I think I just hated letting my dad down. Or maybe, after getting hurt by Jamie, love and dating just didn’t seem like the best option. But he latched onto that idea like you wouldn’t believe.
“Pauly, that’s wonderful! I mean, if you think you can. I’m proud of you for trying.”
This time, Mom didn’t make any comment.
Mom and Dad got me into a great online homeschooling program, and I caught up and finished out the school year that way. It wasn’t too hard; I’d always been smart, and between the extra reading I’d done at Freedom and all the work I did over Fall break, I was all caught up by summer. I even signed up for all the standardized tests with the rest of my class and did great at them. Best of all, the school let me run track in the spring, since I was back in town in time for the tryouts, and they had a cooperative program with the local homeschooling alliance.
Taylor came over when he heard I was back, and even though Mom and Dad said not to, I told him where I’d really been. I didn’t tell him about my old crush on him; that was pointless, and it was over anyway. That was nothing to me compared to what Jamie had been, but I didn’t mention Jamie either.
And as always, Taylor didn’t surprise me: he told me I was his best friend no matter what, and it didn’t make any difference at all to him, and my secret was safe with him. “I am so fucking happy you’re home,” he said. “You could be in love with a flying tree frog for all I care. You’re my best friend.”
It was the kind of thing I wished with all my heart my dad would say to me, that last bit of acceptance, that last bit of love. But he probably never would, and I decided I should just accept that. What he’d given me was better than a lot of people ever get.
When I started running again in the spring, people wanted to know how boarding school was—only Taylor knew the truth—and I pretended like conversion therapy was boarding school and told them all it sucked, but at least I got laid. It was a story Taylor asked about later.
“You seriously had sex with another guy?” he asked when we were running together one day. Taylor and I have been best friends since we were kids, since we went to the same church, and we did almost everything together—ran track, went to youth group, played video games. Tay’s tall and blonde and confident to a fault, and I was convinced if we weren’t both two of the biggest “Jesus Freaks” in the school, he’d be a shoo-in for Homecoming King. He just has that way about him; everybody wants to be Taylor’s friend. He’s shy with people he doesn’t know, though. That’s probably why I’m technically the more popular of the two of us; they want to be his friend, but they settle for me when he proves to be a little too tough of a nut to crack.
Asking about my sex life was completely in character for him—nothing embarrasses him—so I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I sort of expected it.
“Um…yeah. I did,” I said shyly.
“Dude. I’ve never had sex at all,” he said, and I laughed a little.
“Are you actually impressed right now?”
“I’m…no, no, not impressed, just…” Taylor hesitated and slowed to a walk before laughing a little. “Well, fuck, yeah, I’m impressed! I mean, my Mom won’t even let me bring Marissa over to the house when she isn’t home to supervise, and Rissa’s got that promise ring from her dad, and sometimes I feel like I’ll never get laid, and then you, who haven’t even had a fucking girlfriend, come home from church camp all sexually experienced!”
I tried to stifle my shocked laughter. Taylor and Marissa, a girl who went to our church, had been together for two years, and I’d known Tay to be outspokenly sexually frustrated for most of that time. But to envy his gay best friend his first awkward sexual experience? That was a bit much. And to be surprised because I’d had sex but hadn’t had a girlfriend? That was just stupid. And the whole church camp thing…well. “Not church camp, Taylor. It was definitely not church camp.”
“Well. Whatever. You know what I mean! I mean…fuck. Here I thought I’d be the first one to pop his cherry.”
“Don’t call it that,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands.
“Oh, did I embarrass you?” Taylor started to coo in a baby voice. “Poor wittle Pauwy is embawassed?”
I smirked because he walked right into that one. “Nice baby voice, virgin.”
“Ah. Fuck. Fuck you,” Taylor chuckled, his face turning red. “I could if I wanted to, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, smiling.
We were quiet for a little while, but before we resumed running, Taylor brought it up again.
“So…you and some guy at the clinic, huh?”
I frowned. “Yeah.”
“Yeah,” he repeated, and then he was silent.
After a quiet moment, I bumped him with my shoulder. “What are you getting at, Reese?”
Taylor’s face got red and he looked down, but then he looked up and said, “It’s weird.”
I thought for a minute that the whole gay thing freaked him out after all, and I wouldn’t be surprised, to be perfectly honest. He’d been pretty sheltered from that his whole life, same as me, but then when he spoke again, I knew that wasn’t the problem.
“I mean, I don’t even know who this guy is. Just some…random guy?”
I watched Tay’s face carefully. “His name’s Jamie.”
“Hm,” he nodded and looked at his shoes. “And Jamie was…you know…nice to you…or whatever?”
I laughed a little when I realized what this was. Taylor wanted to fucking protect me. I was homeless for weeks in Ph
iladelphia (though I hadn’t told him that part yet) and he thought he needed to protect me from the guy who “popped my cherry” at “church camp.”
Tay looked up at me, a little bit hurt by my laughter, but then I said, “Taylor, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” and then we both laughed, and finally I said, “He was as nice as he probably could have been given the situation, I guess. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to do.” We were both quiet for a moment, and then I added, “He’s a nice guy.”
Taylor nodded and then said, “That’s good. Glad to hear it.”
The truth was I hadn’t thought about Jamie that much. Not since I left Freedom and he said he was dating Ellen. I couldn’t think about Jamie because what happened still hurt me in a way I didn’t quite understand, and I didn’t want to go there. I still wasn’t toughened up, even after what I’d been through, and I just couldn’t quite seem to grasp the role Jamie had played in all that.
I smiled again and let my memories of Jamie flutter away on the breeze. “Ready to go?” I asked. I didn’t want him to get any more personal with these questions, and I could almost sense a “how was it” forming in his mind, and I really, really didn’t want to go there with him.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” he said, and we raced back to our houses.
Things got slowly back to normal. I went back to school in the fall, developed a very minor, benign crush on my Spanish teacher, and started applying to colleges. I got a surprise in October, though, when I was at home with mom on a Saturday afternoon. The doorbell rang, and I heard a male voice at the door. Mom clearly didn’t know the visitor at first, but I heard my name and walked over toward the door. When Mom stepped out onto the porch to give a hug to the woman standing there behind the man, I recognized them. Lynn and Trent. Freaking Lynn and Trent came to see me. When Trent saw me, he stepped right inside without being invited and wrapped me in a big, warm hug. Lynn did the same, and Mom, who only knew these people as the strangers who took care of her precious only son and brought him home to her, was beside herself to make sure they were comfortable. I couldn’t believe they remembered me. I couldn’t believe they came to visit me. This was surreal. While Lynn followed Mom into the kitchen to get drinks, I turned to Trent, still as giant and red-headed as ever, smiling down at me with a twinkle in his eye.
