I don’t think I imagine the cringe John can’t quite suppress. But he takes a breath and gives me at least something by way of an answer. “There will be a thorough investigation, Taylor. I can’t tell you for sure whether he killed anyone at all. I realize it looks like he killed Ray, and maybe he did. And you say he threatened to kill you. If he told you something right before he expected you to die, then from a psychological point of view, it might be safe to believe it. As for how many he raped?” He shakes his head and looks away from me. “Who can say? All we can do is pray the truth comes out in the trial.” He looks back at me again.
I can tell he’s about to bring the interview to a close, but I have one more question for him. “Do you agree with Dr. Strickland’s view about gay kids?”
He blinks. I think he’s hoping that I’m talking about something other than what I’m talking about. “What do you mean?”
“That we’d be better off dead?”
He’s got a hold of himself; no sign of a cringe this time. “I don’t agree with that, no. I don’t like to disagree openly with him, even though he’s not our director any longer. But I will tell you that it doesn’t make much sense to me that God would want anyone to die before they understood the nature of any kind of sin. As long as someone’s still alive, they can continue to examine their own actions and thoughts, and God can work through Jesus and through other people to help.”
Any kind of sin? I’m just about to ask him if he thinks homosexuality is a sin when he holds up a hand. “Taylor, I know what’s on your mind. And someday soon I hope you and I will have more time to talk about it, because I think we both have much to learn from each other. But I’m not prepared to do that now, and we don’t have time for that discussion.” He half-smiles and sits back in the chair. “So. Do you have any other questions, or would you just as soon leave a few minutes early?”
I guess that will have to do for now. “I’ll head out.” I stand and so does he. And he holds his hand out for me to shake.
“I hope you’ll stay, Taylor.”
“Thanks.”
Leaving John’s temporary digs, I make an executive decision. Or maybe it’s a test. I decide I’m not going back to kitchen detail. Dorothy has everything under control, she doesn’t need me very badly, and I want to go and talk with Charles. Plus, as I haven’t tired of pointing out, I’m tired. When I get to the room, Charles is kneeling on the floor beside his bed, head on his hands. His bags are already packed and waiting. I stand in the doorway, not sure whether to let him know I’m here or not, but either he’s finished his prayer or he senses someone there. He looks up.
“You’re leaving,” I say, stating the obvious.
He sits on the side of his bed. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you, too.” I sit on the side of my own bed, facing him. “Still have that article?”
“Do you want it back?”
“No. There’s more where that came from.”
He takes this in and then asks, “And where is that?”
“Promise you won’t tell?”
He nods, smiles, and says, “I promise.”
“My boyfriend brought it. He’s brought a couple of things to me. He sneaked the first one in through someone else, but he brought that article to me himself. We had just a few seconds, so we made the most of them, and he left that with me.”
He’s shaking his head. “Taylor, you are so amazing. I can’t tell whether you’re brave or crazy or both, but you’re just about the best guy I’ve ever known.”
We give that statement a bit of space, and then I say, “They want me to take on a new challenge. A new roommate.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“Not sure. I kind of want to go home to Will, y’know?”
“Is Will your boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” I can’t help but grin just thinking about him. “He’s there, waiting for me. He’s made that clear. And what’s there to stay for?”
“God. You could stay for God. And for everyone else here.”
There is that. It’s not all about me, is it? I shrug. “But I want to be with Will.”
“He’ll be there. He said so, right? Maybe you could get a letter out to him.”
I blink. Is this Charles? My Charles, suggesting insubordination? “I’m not even sure how I’d do that.”
He laughs. It’s the first time I’ve heard it. “Silly. You could give the letter to me. I can mail it once I’m out of here.”
I nearly fall off the bed. “Are you shittin’ me? I mean—Jesus!—I mean…Charles, are you sure?”
He’s still grinning at me. “I’m going to have to report that language, you know.”
“Like hell you are. Would you really take my letter out?”
“Yes. It’s the least I can do after what you did for me. Why don’t you write it now so I can stow it away as safely as possible?”
I don’t need any urging. But first I pull Charles to his feet and give him a fierce hug. And then—horror of horrors!—I kiss him. And he kisses me back. It’s so sweet, and so loving, and it’s the only time we’ll ever do it. But it’s great.
My folks are both on the line while I talk to them. Mom’s in the kitchen, of course, and Dad’s in the living room. His voice booms over the line.
“Your mother wants to fetch you home, son. Now, I know this has been a horrible experience for you, but I want to know what you think. How tough is it for you?”
Now, I’ve gotten pretty good at reading between the lines with my dad. What he’s not saying, but he’s really saying, is that if I can prove to him that I have the guts to stay, then I’m man enough that I won’t need to be sent to military school to learn how to be a man. But—shit, I really want to see Will! And I’d love to have a home-cooked meal, and sit and chat with Mom over iced tea in the kitchen, and I’d even like to see my dad. So I tread carefully and don’t commit myself too deeply.
“I’m made of pretty tough stuff, Dad. I risked my life, remember? And I’d do it again. The thing is, it’s kind of weird here. My roommate, the one who was being hurt? He left after dinner tonight. He’s a really great kid, which is one reason I did what I did. And they’re talking about giving me a new roommate. I don’t know what he’s in for, so it could be drugs or something.” I hear a tiny “Oh!” escape Mom. “So, how about this? He’s getting here Friday afternoon. Why don’t we give it the weekend, and if you call and insist on speaking to me Sunday night, they’ll let you. I mean, given everything that’s happened.”
I can see my dad nodding. “Taylor, I like that plan. Give it a chance. See how things go.”
There’s half a minute or so when no one knows what to say and we can hear each other breathing over the line. Then Dad says, “They, uh, they tell me you’re doing really well there, son. Said you’re proving yourself to be a real leader.”
Wow. “They said that?”
“I just want you to know, I’m, uh…I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad.” More breathing. “So, should I expect to hear from you Sunday evening?”
“Yes. Say seven thirty. I’ll call the after-hours number they gave me and ask for you. If we decide it’s time for you to come home, your mom can drive out on Monday. How does that sound?”
“Like a plan, Dad. Sounds great. So, I’ll talk to you then.”
Mom chimes in finally. “Oh, Taylor! I miss you so much. I want you to come home, but I know it might not be best.”
“I’m okay, Mom. Honest. I miss you, too.”
Dad can’t quite bring himself to say that. But he’s already shocked me enough with the “proud of you” line. So I just say, “So long, then.” And I hang up.
Things seem really weird, just like I’d told Dad. Several kids I knew are gone now; their parents came and fetched them away as soon as they could get out here. I miss Leland a lot. Sheldon is gone, and Hank, too, though his time was almost up. Monica Moon is gone, but I don’t think she was doing ver
y well, anyway. Rye is still here. I notice him more, now that there are fewer kids, and now that I know who he is. You feel a certain kinship with someone you’ve named. Reva’s gone, so I won’t get to take her to the luau. They’re gonna hold it anyway, though I’ll probably miss at least some of it with my new roomie’s arrival.
I don’t get a lot of face time with Nate; he’s obviously still in the thick of things. But we do steal a few minutes during Fellowship one night. We sneak into a corner, and I tell him about my conversation with John, that official meeting where I’d questioned him about Strickland’s position.
“Wow. You didn’t give him even a day to catch his breath, did you?”
“Why should I?”
“Well, remember that everything happened real fast. One minute he’s got to do things Strickland’s way, and even if he doesn’t agree you’re better off dead, he still thinks of it as sin. The next minute he’s got a new boss who wants to reverse that particular philosophy, and he hasn’t had more than an hour of her time to talk about it when you smack him upside the head with that hot potato. Sorry for the mixed metaphors or whatever, but you see what I mean?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“Seems to me he handled himself pretty well under your third degree. You wanna cut him some slack? He’ll get there. After all, I’m working on him, too, y’know.” He smacks my shoulder.
And I have to admit, John’s pretty good at leading Prayer Meetings. He’s got a lot of charisma, and he sure does know his scripture. I’d been thinking Nate might have to help him out a little, but that’s not the case at all. Nate tells me John is twenty-three. I wouldn’t have guessed before, but now I see it.
Circle’s not the same without Jamie, whose folks absconded with him. And this is Peter’s last week anyway. I’ll sure miss his beautiful eyes. But there’s a bonus. Sean joins the circle. And of course Nate isn’t going anywhere as long as his mom’s still around. But there’s a really sober moment on Thursday night as we’re all sitting on the laundry room floor.
Nate says, “Brothers and sisters, I can’t tell you what being in the circle has meant to me. And I know you all feel the same, or you wouldn’t still be taking risks to be here.” He smiles and looks around at everyone. “So it’s kind of wonderful and kind of sad that I’m not sure how much longer we’ll have a mission. Now that we have new leadership, there’s a change in philosophy. Pretty soon, I’m hoping that the official Prayer Meetings will be as accepting as we are. They’ll be the sort of place where we’ll be able to speak more freely, to express ourselves more honestly. If that happens, the circle will have accomplished its goal.”
He waits to see what everyone will say. Dawn speaks first.
“But Nate, we can’t stop! It’s the only place people like Jessica and me can be open!”
“I think that’s going to change, is what I’m saying. Until it does, there’s still a need for this. But wouldn’t it be better if everyone could be open, not just the kids in the circle?”
No one can argue with that. Okay, maybe it’s good news in a way, but it sure puts a damper on the meeting.
But…yes…wouldn’t it be terrific?
That night I have trouble falling asleep. It’s been pretty weird in the room ever since Charles left; I got used to hearing someone else breathing. Plus I miss him. But that’s not the problem tonight. Tonight I’m thinking about Kent, about what he’ll be like, about why he’s coming here. I mean, Mrs. Harnett is the director now, right? And she’d told me outright that she won’t be taking kids just because they’re gay. So either she can’t put that new rule into effect just yet or Kent isn’t gay. Or he’s gay, but he’s got some other problems, too.
Bottom line here is, I’m gonna have a new roommate. I might hate him. He might hate me. He might be some miserable lowlife, or he might be a stuck-up self-righteous bastard, like I thought Charles was, until I got to know him. Whatever he is, both Mrs. Harnett and John said he’d be a challenge. One that John isn’t quite convinced I’m up to.
So. Do I stay and accept the challenge, or do I bail, go home, and see what happens? Knowing my dad, he’ll be a lot more impressed if I stick it out. Sure, I get credit for being willing to wait and see, but if I whimper on Sunday and beg them to take me home, that credit might get wiped out. And it still might mean Dad points a stern finger at military school.
Let’s say I stick it out here, do the full sentence, and don’t screw up too badly with Kent. In four more weeks, I’ll go home having seen it through. See, the thing is, Dad didn’t say to me, “Son, you’re going to have to come out the other end of this summer a real man. You’re going to have to be straight, not gay anymore, or else it’s military school.” He just said I had to go through the program that’s designed to straighten me out. His assumption—ha, another one—that of course it would work is so hidden from him that he didn’t think to add that qualification.
So what’s he gonna do when he finds out it didn’t take? That I’m still gay? I gotta have a plan for that. It won’t be enough to say, “Gee, Dad, you never said I had to change.” It won’t even be enough to say, “I did my best! I did everything you asked!” Though I will say that if I have to. I did everything he asked and more.
It’s the “more” that’s got me worried, actually. I really don’t think there’s any way I can get him to see this new vision of Christianity, the one the circle got me to see. It will never be enough for him that it used to be a sin; I don’t think he’ll ever buy that it isn’t anymore. He’s too hung up on his own idea of what it is to be a man. That is, a man is like him. It’s Strickland’s problem all over again.
Could I get Dad to see it anyway? Am I up to that battle? Even if I am, if I’m in military school I won’t be able to carry it out. So now I have two reasons to avoid being sent away: being able to see Will, and convincing my dad—and my mom—that I’m not a sinner simply because I’m gay. It’s like I have a mission now. Something beyond my own need to be who I am. I want other people to get it, too.
And suddenly I realize that’s my plan. If my dad wants to know whether I’m still gay, the answer is yes. But if he tries to send me away, I’ll offer him a compromise: I’ll come back here next summer. It would actually be tolerable by then, under Mrs. Harnett’s new philosophy. Hey—maybe Will would come, too….
Somewhere between teaching my dad a new way to think of Jesus’s message and making eyes at Will across Isaiah next summer, I fall asleep.
There’s a message in my mailbox on Friday after lunch saying that Kent Finnigan will be arriving at four. I’m to make myself available starting at four thirty by waiting in my room until I’m called to come and meet him. John sees me reading it.
“Pretty clear, Taylor? You know what you need to do, right?”
There’s a sheet of yellow labels and a map for Kent here, too, and I’m looking down at the map. “I think so. Give him an orientation tour, like Charles did for me.”
“And then bring him to the chapel.”
My head snaps toward him.
“The church has found a replacement for Reverend Bartle. He’s going to pray with Kent, and Mrs. Harnett will be there. She was involved in the selection, too.”
That’s okay, then. “How will I know when I should look for him again?”
“You should go to dinner and go back to your room to wait. I’m sorry there has to be all this waiting, but the process is changing. You okay with this?”
“Sure.” What can I say?
So I’m in my room at five fifteen when Jeffrey, who’s still with us, comes to get me. And just like Charles had done, I knock on the frame of the open door that used to be Strickland’s.
Mrs. Harnett, who has moved in by now, says, “Taylor. Please come in. Taylor Adams, this is your new roommate, Kent Finnigan. Taylor will show you around, Kent. Make sure you’re oriented and understand what’s expected. I’ll see you again in the chapel shortly.”
I extend my hand, and for a second there,
it almost looks like Kent’s going to bite it. But I just hold it out: I’m not goin’ anyplace, Kent. Eventually he stands, and we shake. He’s not a very big kid. Scrawny. Looks to be maybe fifteen. There’s a piercing hole in his left earlobe; nothing in it, and there won’t be while he’s here, that’s for sure. Dirty blond hair, buzz cut. They’ll make him grow it out a little. For some reason he’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt despite the summer heat.
I lead him on the tour. Laundry room, dining hall, Fellowship room, Isaiah and the other prophets. He’s silent through the whole trip. Just like I had been. Then we go into the bathroom. He’s just as reluctant to do anything in there with me hanging around as I’d been with Charles. I don’t really have a clue whether he’ll be as long in the chapel as I was, but with his attitude it seems likely. So I give him the same warning Charles gave me.
He nearly growls, but he goes into a booth. I don’t know whether he’s trying to cover the sounds of his own pissing or if he’s decided it’s time to take some kind of stand, but he starts talking to me. Maybe it’s finally dawned on him that this will be his last chance to talk for a while. SafeZone is still alive and well.
“This is a fucking screwed-up place. I hope you don’t fucking expect me to be toeing any fucking line. You guys can’t teach me shit here.”
I’m leaning against the wall opposite the stall, arms crossed over my chest. It’s kind of refreshing to hear this stream of obscenities, more or less paralleling the stream of piss. But there’s an edge to his voice. He’s afraid. Plus he’s overdoing it.
He’s not going to admit that, even to himself. So I chuckle loud enough for him to hear. “I hope you don’t think I haven’t heard those words before. In fact, I hope you don’t think I haven’t used them.”
Kent throws the door open and glares at me. “You here because you’re a fairy?”
Thinking Straight Page 31
