Philadelphia

by L B Winter

  “Well, I was going to see if any of you wanted to come with me to the mall, but it looks like you’re all busy,” I said.

  “I’ll come,” Jamie offered. I hadn’t noticed him; he was sitting quietly near the doorway.

  “Oh. Um, okay. Sure. Anybody else?” I offered.

  They all smiled and shook their heads, and Lynn said, “Have fun!”

  Great. Those jerks.

  My dad wanted us to pick up a toaster oven, so we stopped over at the department store first. It was still awkward, which was probably my fault for answering everything Jamie said with one-word answers. He’d stopped trying before we even reached the mall, and I knew I should try harder. Problem was, I didn’t know what to say. It really was so strange to feel like we could start to be friends now. After everything that had happened last night, we’d turned a real corner; he wasn’t biting my head off anymore. He was just being quiet. It was incredibly intimidating. I felt like anything I said or did to bring us closer to each other was just putting myself in a position to be vulnerable again.

  After we finished my dad’s errand, Jamie asked, “So what else did you want to pick up?”

  “We’re still early enough for the deal on running shoes at the sporting goods store,” I said.

  “Awesome!” Jamie’s face lit up.

  “Can you afford them?” I shot back, then cringed. Why the hell did I say that?

  “Oh, right. Yeah, probably not.” His shoulders drooped—actually drooped, like a cartoon dog in the doghouse.

  I elbowed him and smiled. “But Christmas is coming up. Maybe, if you find a pair you like, Santa will bring them for you.” Shit. Now I was flirting? Was there no middle ground with me?

  But Jamie didn’t mind it. He shook his head. “You’re way too nice to me.”

  That was an understatement. “I’m your friend.” There, good answer. Nice job, Paul.

  “We’ll go get shoes for you, anyway,” he deflected, and then, “If I find any I like, can I pay you back? I talked to Lynn this morning, and they’re gonna hire me on at the store.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I start officially on Monday. I’m pretty stoked, to be honest. It’s fun, just like you said. Since they make their own of so many things, and order the rest custom-made, there’s always new stuff coming in. It’s hectic!”

  “It is,” I agreed. “That’s why Lynn doesn’t want Taylor and me working there. One time we mixed up some orders, because we didn’t realize they were all custom-made. We thought we were helping.” I had started to chuckle, but then, remembering how things were with Taylor now, I suddenly found it less humorous.

  “She told me,” he said. “I think you deserve a second chance at retail, but she says your strengths lie elsewhere.”

  I cocked my head. “Really? Where does she say my strengths lie?”

  “Management,” he answered. “She can see you running your own company one day. She says you have a great eye for the big picture. Not so much in the details, but you can tell where things are headed, and how to prepare for them. She said you take after your mother in that way. Plus, you’re a leader. You decide what needs to be done and you do it. Not everybody has that quality. I mean, according to Lynn.”

  Wow. She’d never said any of this to me. She always said I should take my time to figure out where I wanted to go in life. It was a surprise to me that, all the while, she’d been watching to see if she could figure it out, too.

  Management. Maybe it was just because it was coming from Lynn (via Jamie), but I loved the sound of that.

  After I didn’t answer, Jamie added, “Hasn’t she told you that before?”

  I shook my head. “No, she wants me to figure out my path on my own. But I’m really glad you told me. Maybe I’ll take some business classes and see if I like it. Registration starts next week.”

  We walked into the store, and as we approached the shoe section, Jamie said, “Is college awesome?”

  I glanced at him. That was an odd question. “Uh…yeah? I mean, I like it.”

  “I should have gone to college.”

  I was making him question his entire life, wasn’t I? I felt guilty, suddenly. “You still could,” I pointed out. “You aren’t that much older than the rest of us.”

  “I don’t know how I’d ever pay for it.”

  Right. Tuition. Loans. Debt. “You could figure that out,” I said half-heartedly. My parents were paying for my schooling; I didn’t know what it would be like for Jamie.

  He grabbed a pair of shoes off a shelf, looking at them with longing. “Money is not my friend,” he said.

  They were nice shoes, and I knew immediately that I couldn’t leave the store that day without buying them for him, even if he decided he couldn’t afford them. My parents gave me a generous monthly allowance. I was incredibly spoiled, wasn’t I? And here Jamie was, having almost nothing, with hardly any prospects for more.

  Steven was right; helping him was the right thing to do.

  “I like these,” I said, grabbing a pair of shoes that were great for stabilizing my gait; my feet were just a tiny bit tilted when I ran, so I needed something sturdy.

  Jamie said, “There’s a treadmill over there. Give them a try.” He waved to a salesperson, who walked over to help us. Jamie has a great smile, and the woman came to help us right away, despite the busy crowds bustling around us.

  Judging by the way he seemed to know the procedure and where everything was, I guessed that Jamie had been here before. “You usually get shoes here?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Um. Well. It’s where Ellen used to work.”

  Ugh. That’s right. His wife. Because he was married. Just when I started getting along with him, I remembered what a hot mess his life was. It was a good reminder not to start having feelings for him again. Who cared how great his smile was? He was a cheater, and just barely out of the closet. And I was going to start dating other people. So there.

  “She doesn’t work here now?”

  He shook his head. “No, she stopped working when we got married.”

  “That’s weird,” I said, pulling the shoes on. I could talk about this casually; who cared? It was just a friend, telling a friend about his life. Totally normal. No big deal.

  “Well, the church paid me more than enough to pay our rent, and she didn’t really like this job, so it just made sense. It’s far from our house, too.”

  “So you led music there? I mean, at the church?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, but they called me the worship pastor. It was a really cool job. I loved it.” He sighed. “But I blew it. Obviously.”

  It was hard to argue with that. Whether or not you believe being gay is wrong, cheating is definitely, always, in every situation, totally wrong. He had really fucked up. “Maybe someday you can lead music again.”

  He glanced at me. “Yeah, maybe. But probably not. I should find something else to do with my life. I should…I should take some time and try to get my act together.”

  Wow. Nice progress from a couple of weeks ago. I must have looked impressed, because he tapped me on the wrist with a tennis shoe and said, “Yeah, that’s right. I was listening to you all along. Believe it or not.” Then he smiled, and I actually got goosebumps.

  How self-destructive could I possibly be? I still liked him. Damn it.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Elephant

  __________

  On Saturday morning, Trent and Steven hit the road to return to Philly, and Jamie surprised us all by deciding to go back with them. Lynn stayed, though, and the two of us went to church with my parents on Sunday.

  The bonfire had been uneventful. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Taylor since, and honestly, I hadn’t really talked to Alex while I was there, either. I suck at being a sucky friend—I couldn’t get back at Taylor, so I settled for ignoring him all weekend.

  But at church, we were supposed to plan our return trip later that afternoon with Lynn, so I couldn’t give him the
cold shoulder forever.

  Taylor’s family always sat in the same place, as families in churches tend to do. He and his older sister were bookended by their parents, and a few seats back sat Marissa and her family. Man, was that ever awkward.

  But, believe it or not, he didn’t even seem that bothered. He never turned around to look at her, as far as I could tell. But as soon as our little group walked to our pew near the front, I saw him raise his head, watching us. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, and I knew he was texting me for the one millionth time since I’d hung up on him Friday. I just hadn’t felt like responding.

  I know. That’s lame. He was the one hurting over his break-up, and I should have been supportive. But I was tired of trying so hard to be there for him. I didn’t like what our friendship was becoming. I wanted us to talk about things, and not for it to be one-sided. He knew everything I thought and felt about Jamie, but I didn’t know a thing about Marissa, and real friendships go both ways.

  If wanting to talk to my friends made me a bitch, so be it.

  Church was weird, after so many weeks in Philly. I had forgotten how predictable and ceremonious it could seem sometimes, and how much it contrasted with the way my dad was at home. We’re a sort of happy-go-lucky family, but as a pastor, Dad seldom smiled.

  After church, Mom went to chat with the organist about something, and Lynn turned to me and said, “Hey, did you touch base with Taylor yet about when he wants to leave?”

  I hadn’t told her about our fight; I hadn’t told anybody. “No, we haven’t talked,” I told her. “Why don’t you go see what he thinks? I’m going to go say hi to some people.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  I walked in the opposite direction, purposely not looking at Taylor. While I visited with old family friends, retirees, and church board members, I began to perceive that they were looking at me differently. I hadn’t been home at all since Dad outed me, and last I knew, we were all on good terms. I mean, I used to come over to these people’s houses for Easter egg hunts. They attended my graduation party, and they’d seen me perform in every Sunday School pageant for the better part of my life. A couple of them had even come to our family Thanksgiving in the past, for Pete’s sake.

  But now, I was gay. Now, I was “other.” They didn’t want to talk to me. At first, most were not overtly unfriendly, but I heard none of the questions about college, or Philadelphia, or the holidays that I had expected to be barraged with. Suddenly, nobody had time to visit with me. Everybody was in a hurry, “Sorry, Paul.” It was like the parting of the Red Sea: everywhere I walked, the people scattered. The first time, I thought it was a coincidence. The next time, I thought maybe it was personal. And then again, and again, and it almost felt like a practical joke. Were they kidding? They really didn’t like me anymore, didn’t care about me at all anymore, because they knew I was gay?

  I didn’t know if I was mad, or hurt, or embarrassed, or maybe a combination of some or all of those things. All I knew was, it sucked.

  I was being snubbed by an old Sunday School teacher of mine when I looked up and saw my dad in the back of the church, where he always stood to greet parishioners as they left the sanctuary. I could tell with just one look that he’d been watching me, and noticing what was happening. I could tell with just one look that he was livid.

  Was this my life now? Offending people just by existing? I was standing alone in the middle of the sanctuary, a circle of openness cleared around me where all the people who’d been nearby had scattered. I was officially humiliated; I felt tears sting my eyes. Was everybody watching?

  I was ready to leave—turn and run, literally run, home—when Taylor launched himself around the pew and grabbed me in a big hug.

  “Hey, buddy,” he said. “Good to see you. Happy Thanksgiving.” He was talking loudly, and the message he was sending was loud and clear: Paul’s still my friend, even if he isn’t yours. As if I wasn’t close enough to tears already. I could see that people were watching over his shoulder, and I knew he could see, too—but he obviously couldn’t have cared less. He was my best friend, just like always. Nothing had changed. The world might have a lot of bigoted people in it, but Taylor wasn’t one of them.

  It was the kind of hug that never got awkward, no matter how long it lasted. “Sorry I didn’t text you back,” I half-whispered, half-choked in his ear.

  “I deserved it,” he said. He started to pull away, but I held on for a moment longer. It was nice to reassure myself that I wasn’t a leper, after all.

  He rubbed the back of my head and said, “You okay, buddy?”

  I finally let go, wiping my eyes surreptitiously. “Turns out I’m out at church,” I said.

  Taylor grunted. “Yeah, I noticed. Shitheads. Like you aren’t the same kid they’ve known since you were two years old.” He gave a few onlookers the stink eye, and they at least had the decency to look a little bit ashamed.

  “Longer,” my mom said. We looked up and saw her coming up behind us. “Are you ready to go, baby?”

  “Yeah.” Lynn and Dad were there, too. Dad wasn’t even greeting people anymore. They were all just surrounding me, and it sent a clear message. A year ago, or two years ago? I never, ever would have imagined this could happen.

  As we walked out, Lynn wrapped her arm protectively around my shoulder. Mom nudged Dad when she saw us and whispered something in his ear, and he rushed forward to give her gas money for our drive home. Taylor, meanwhile, stuck close to us. I saw Marissa watching him, but he wasn’t paying any attention to her anymore, and I was proud of him. Suddenly, she didn’t seem nearly good enough for him.

  ***

  It turned out Taylor had a lot of studying to do, so it wasn’t long after church that we drove back to Philly so he could focus. Tay and I piled into the back of Lynn’s car, stowing our giant laundry bags up front in the passenger seat. Lynn put on a book on tape, but neither of us found it particularly enthralling, so we used the time to catch up.

  “So what did you end up doing all weekend?” I asked.

  He gave me a sidelong glance. “Um. Texting you, calling you, worrying you were gonna stay mad at me forever. You know. The usual.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You knew I’d get over it.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, I did. It was just…an all-around shitty Thanksgiving.”

  “Sorry,” I said, genuinely meaning it. Then, remembering the whole cause of our fight in the first place, I added, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, Tay. I shouldn’t have been so pushy.”

  “You were just trying to help, and I get that. Anyway, I’m not trying to be a bad friend.”

  “You definitely aren’t a bad friend.”

  “I have been lately. It’s just…I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel, or what to say. And then, on the other hand, I know exactly how I feel, but I don’t want to admit it.”

  I was quiet, waiting. If he was ready to talk, I was ready to listen, but I’d learned by now not to push.

  He went on, “It’s just that I honestly thought…” He paused.

  “What?”

  “It’s stupid.” He shook his head and sighed. “I thought she was the one God had for me. And now I’m like, ‘What the heck, God?’”

  Over the top of Taylor’s half-hearted laughter, I suddenly heard Jamie’s voice in my head from so many years ago. The one God has for me. What did that even mean? Like, God sends you one person and then, regardless of the actions of either, you end up together forever? That would only make sense in a universe where people don’t have any free will, where nobody ever does anything or grows or changes. Or makes mistakes.

  But I couldn’t say any of that to Taylor; he had finally trusted me enough to talk to me about this. I had made such a stink about talking things over, and it turned out, I was the one who wasn’t prepared to talk maturely about it. Go figure.

  Instead, I said, “She messed up, Tay. You can’t control that.”

  “You thin
k I should forgive her?”

  “Well, sure, I guess. If you want to. Eventually. I mean, that wasn’t my point. My point was just that, maybe God did put her in your life. But if she’s going to throw that away, there isn’t anything either of you can do about it.”

  “Either of us?”

  “Yeah. You and God.”

  He laughed a little and bumped my knee with his fist. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Paul.”

  I knew I couldn’t have helped much, but it was cool of him to say it. “Thanks for…talking to me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome,” he said.

  When we got to Philly, I pulled out my computer and logged into the university portal. Registration for spring classes was open, and Jamie’s voice was stuck in my head, telling me that Lynn thought I’d be good in business.

  I was always one of those kids who was determined to do the opposite of whatever his parents did. I never even remotely considered pastoring, for example, and Mom’s business success just made me want to steer clear of that whole area. But now, I was remembering some things. Like how, in high school, I always took the lead when we did a group project. Not that I was always the most academically gifted one, because I wasn’t necessarily, but I did always figure out who should do what. People usually liked working with me because I was good at making tough decisions. I also had a leadership style that I was often proud of; I wasn’t really bossy, but I got people to do things by reasoning with them. In fact, I might even say my greatest strength as a leader was my honesty in dealing with people.

  Business management might be the right career track for me. There was really only one way to find out.

  Looking over the course catalog, I added a course in ethics, another in marketing, and a couple gen eds. Then I opened my email and wrote a quick note to my advisor asking if we could meet to chat about mapping out the rest of my years at Franklin. What would a business degree require of me? What courses had I already taken that would count toward it? And what should I be doing over the summer to help me prepare, if I did go that route?