The Edge of Grace

by Christa Allan

  "Ben, remember the day Sean came over and said your Spiderman game was gay?"

  He looked up from his Game Boy. "And you said gay doesn't mean stupid?"

  "Right, that day. Do you know what gay means?" I glanced at him to gauge his reaction. None. He hadn't lifted his head from his game. "Ben, did you hear me?"

  "Yes, I heard you. I'm not sure what gay means. I just hear kids at school say it sometimes. All I know is what it doesn't mean."

  I avoided the interstate thinking traffic lights and stop signs would extend the time we spent in the car. I learned a long time ago cars could be great places to have a serious discussion, provided it's not one that angers the driver.

  Waiting for the signal light to turn green, I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel and wondered how to transition from gay doesn't mean stupid to your Uncle David is gay.

  "One time I heard you call Uncle David gay," Ben said and kept pushing game buttons.

  The horn blaring from the car behind me reminded me to pay attention to the traffic light, which had obviously turned green. I was about to turn green with it. "You did? When did you hear that, Ben?"

  He shrugged. "I dunno. A long time ago. I just figured you meant he was doing something dumb."

  "Oh. So, why didn't you say something after Sean came over. When you knew it didn't mean that?"

  "Guess I just forgot. Why?"

  "I want to explain to you what gay means, and I need you to stop playing and listen. With both ears."

  "Okay. Is it going to take long because I have to go to the bathroom?"

  I found a McDonald's, pointed the bathroom out to Ben, and ordered two chocolate shakes. With whipped cream. We sat at a table, and I related Zoe's story about people with different color eyes and how sometimes boys and girls love each other or girls and girls or boys and boys.

  He didn't say anything when I finished talking. He sucked up the last smidgen of his shake, looked out the window, then back at me. "So, Uncle David and Max love each other."

  "Yes."

  "Like you and Dad loved each other."

  "Yes."

  He looked outside again before he turned back and asked, "Are they going to have kids?"

  Now it was my turn to stare out the window for a bit. "You know, I don't know. They would have to adopt one, but I don't know if they will."

  "Okay. Are we going home now?"

  I sipped what was left of my shake. "We can. So, you understand?" I must have forgotten something. This did not unfold as I expected.

  "Yeeesss."

  My kid was patronizing me.

  "Uncle David and Max love each other. And I love Uncle David and Max. I got it. That was simple, Mom."

  I laughed. "You're right. It was simple." So simple. What was that Julie said about a child leading?

  Could that be what God was up to?

  42

  Fasten your seatbelts," Gavin told us.

  The day David called Gavin to tell him he was ready to go forward with the lawsuit, Gavin called me, David and Max and set up a meeting at his office.

  "As soon as the suit's filed, there's going to be publicity, especially in an election year. Under no circumstances should you talk to anyone in the media. Refer everyone to me. Don't say anything to anyone outside of this room that you wouldn't want on the evening news or the front page of the paper. Nothing on Facebook, Twitter, blogs, or any social networks on the Internet."

  He gave us a rundown of what we could expect, then told us not to hesitate to call him with questions or concerns. "We all know the potential this has for some politicians to make names for themselves, so don't get sucked in to their rhetoric. This is also going to be pulpit material in many churches— some supporting David, some not."

  We didn't have to wait long. Sidney Washington's response to David's lawsuit almost preempted the article in the newspaper. Of course, being a political candidate he parlayed it into an opportunity for coverage, press releases, and any other attention he could lasso with his rope of influence.

  When interviewed about the lawsuit, Washington said the percentage of hate crimes has been over exaggerated, and the resources required to pursue these cases would be better spent on crimes that affect a majority of the population. "Gays and the like," he said, "are rips in the fabric of society. And they need to be repaired. Meaning that if gay people choose that lifestyle, then they're capable of not choosing it."

  He said the gay agenda would take over and destroy America and that it started in the schools with things like anti-bullying campaigns. "All that's just a cover, a gateway to sneak homosexual promotion in the schools. Do we really need hate crime laws? Isn't a crime a crime? Why do these people think they need special protection?"

  Alongside Washington's rant was a brief interview with Pastor Vince who said the Hate Crimes Protection Act was a response not simply to violence, but to the brutality and often torture of men and women simply on the basis of gender or race or religion.

  Vince shared that Love Is an Orientation by Andrew Marin helped him understand the need for the church to elevate the conversation beyond the orientation of gender to the greater orientation of love. "Marin said, and I quote, 'Love is not just a word. It's a measureable expression of one's unconditional behaviors toward another.' I know not all pastors will agree with me. But I think if young men and women are reaching out and wanting to learn about Jesus, who am I to say no? Look who Jesus hung out with. And he never made repentance a pre-condition to love."

  Julie came over the day the news about the lawsuit appeared in the paper. "I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. I know there's so much you're still struggling with, but if it helps, I see you living out what Jesus told us to do. He said we should love one another. Period. Love one another followed by a period. Not a comma, not a semicolon, not a question mark. If I do that, just love His people, I can let Him take care of the rest."

  43

  My routine expanded to include driving David to physical therapy and appointments with Gavin. I looked forward to going with him to Gavin's office and, unless I misread straight men too, he seemed happy to see me. David even noticed and hidden somewhere in his, "I like the way you're paying more attention to yourself," comment was a compliment waiting to happen.

  The ever-honest Max on my last arrival to pick up David, scanned me and asked, "When did you start substitute teaching?"

  "What? I didn't."

  "Well, then stop dressing like you did. Next thing you know, you're going to show up here wearing a jumper with dancing pencils."

  "A denim skirt and a cardigan. Is that bad?" I adjusted my skirt, made sure the zipper hadn't spun around to the front.

  David laughed. "Lighten up on her Max. She's never seen your shop. Or maybe you could just take her shopping."

  "It's not enough that I'm enrolled in cell phone school and Introduction to Gay 101, now I have to have a wardrobe consultant?"

  "Possibly. But we'll wait until brother David over there can walk faster because we might have to do something about that hair while we're at it."

  I recognized that crazed look. I'd seen it on hairdressers when you sit in the chair and say, "I'm tired of making decisions. Just do something."

  "David, let's go before I'm undergoing liposuction and permanent eyeliner." Neither one of which I would've minded.

  I'd started delivering meals again, but told everyone I'd have to stay at one a week for the next few months. Since I had no idea who had contributed to the "brown envelope" of gift cards, I had sent an email blast to everyone on the list thanking them for their generosity. Having them gave Ben and me time together going out to eat and meant fewer trips to David's to deliver meals, though we often ended up there on weekends so he could visit his uncle.

  I planned to spend a marathon cooking day on Saturday morning, but Ben begged to spend time with David and Max. I let Ben pick out a dessert, but I explained that since I planned to cook, we couldn't stay long.

  I noticed a f
ew more cars than usual, but they could have been there for the neighbors. I really hadn't met too many of David's friends, and I wasn't sure I was ready to. But, I couldn't back out now.

  We weren't even up the steps when I heard yells and whoops that could only mean one thing: football. Max, David, Gavin, and an assortment of people were watching an afternoon game. They introduced me to the neighbors from across the street, Phil and Ariel, and another couple, Mitchell and Paul. Ben announced that he brought carrot cake, passed it off to me, then wedged himself on the sofa between Max and David. "What's the score?" he asked, and plunged his hand into a bowl of popcorn Max held without taking his eyes off the television.

  Getting Ben to leave was like asking me to leave a live cooking demonstration by John Besh or Paul Prudhomme. After a few attempts, interspersed with Ben begging to stay, Gavin offered to bring him home.

  David and Max looked at each other and nodded, and I could have punched them both. "Caryn, let him stay here. He hasn't had a chance to hang out with the guys," David said.

  "Really, he'll be fine. I don't mind taking him home," Gavin said.

  I shouldn't have been that excited to leave my son, but I knew it was knowing that I'd spend time with Gavin that made me sing along with the radio on the way home.

  When Gavin called that he and Ben were on their way, I had already polished furniture, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom, spritzed the den with something that said Spring Rain but smelled more like Forest After a Thunderstorm, taken a shower and picked out something I hoped didn't give Gavin images of chalkboards and erasers. After Max's observation of my clothing status, I dropped in at Ann Taylor's and treated myself to a dusty teal silk crossover blouse that accented my waist. I wore it with a pair of black jeans that I found in the back of my closet.

  Ben was surprisingly cooperative after he arrived. He went to take his shower without being asked twice.

  I was alone with a man in my den. I couldn't remember the last time that had happened when it didn't involve a hospital bed. We sat on the same worn sofa where, all those months ago, I poured out my David story to Julie. And now, because of David, I shared the sofa with Gavin.

  He explained Ben had a fast-food stop on the way, so I brewed a pot of coffee and offered Gavin his choice of brownies or cookies. He wanted two of each.

  On my way to refill our coffee, Ben reappeared to announce he was going to bed.

  "Are you feeling okay?" I placed my hand on his forehead. Voluntary bedtime was not standard operating procedure.

  He looked up at me. "I'm fine. Just tired." When I bent closer to kiss him good-night, he whispered, "You don't have to tuck me in tonight, okay?"

  On the way to his room, he stopped to thank Gavin. "I had a good time today, Mr. Gavin."

  "I did too. We'll have to watch more football games together. I didn't know you knew so much about penalties," he shook Ben's hand. "Good night, Ben."

  Ben smiled and walked to his room. I thought I saw him give Gavin a thumbs up, and I wondered if they had planned this performance.

  Gavin surveyed the room. "This is a comfortable space." He looked at me. "But then you're easy to be with."

  "So, I'm comfortable and easy? Is that how you flatter all your women?"

  "Absolutely," he said. "Is it working?"

  "Almost. But, we spend too much time talking about my family. I don't know that much about you," I said, and imagined, just for a moment, how soft his lips would feel on mine. What his arms would feel like wrapped around me.

  I recovered in enough time to hear him tell me that he was the oldest of three, two boys and a girl, and that he was divorced, no children.

  "Most people assume I left my wife. Interesting, the judgments that follow that. Guess that's another one of those skewed perceptions. But she left me. As in emptied the closets, the house, and most of the checking account. She didn't tell me where she went. Then one day the papers came, and that was it. She didn't want to talk, to compromise, to mediate. Nothing. Just wanted out. That was five years ago. She's living in Florida, so we don't even have to face the possibility of bumping into each other."

  "You didn't suspect anything? One day you're happy, the next day she's gone?" Gavin didn't strike me as the kind of man who lived in an alternate reality. Even talking about it now, he looked sad.

  "I asked myself that question often after she left. What did I miss? I was in law school, and then studying for my bar. I'm sure I was clueless about a lot of things. But then, if someone's unhappy, they shouldn't pretend. Maybe I should have asked more questions. I don't blame her entirely. I wonder, sometimes, if we would have had a chance."

  My stomach tightened. "So, are you saying you think you still love her?"

  He looked surprised by the question. "Oh, no. That's not what I meant. Whatever I did to fail her in the marriage, I wish I would've known. I want to make sure that history doesn't repeat itself, you know?

  "Yes. I do," I answered. "Yes, I do."

  44

  Max called Monday morning and asked if I had time to deliver a package for him.

  Strange request, but by this time, I knew Max well enough to know that ordinary wasn't in his vocabulary. "I have a few deliveries lined up for this week; in fact, making a chocolate mousse cake as we speak. Just tell me what and when and where."

  "It's David. I need you to deliver David to his therapy appointment on Friday. We're doing inventory at the store, half of my employees are out with some grunge in their systems, and I need to be there. If you could take him that would really help. And the appointment is at nine."

  "Sure. I can drop Ben off, unload these desserts, and still deliver the package on time."

  I called Gavin to ask if I could stop by his office while David had his physical therapy appointment so he could review my catering contract with Washington.

  "That would be fine. It'll be nice to see you."

  I loved hearing those words.

  Gavin's office was one of several in a renovated house not far from David's. Most of the people worked solo, so they shared a receptionist. Trudy knew my family by now. "Go on back. He knows you're here already."

  I walked in and almost walked into him. Not that I minded; he had to put his hands on my shoulders to steady me. I would've been willing to practice that one again.

  "Here, have a seat." He picked up a stack of papers on a chair by his desk. "I want to make sure I don't run you over."

  "That wouldn't be so bad. I know a great lawyer who could take my case." I smiled and wished we'd moved pass this awkward stage of not yet ready to kiss when we meet, but beyond the friendly peck on the cheek. I sat and handed him my contract." How's the case going?"

  "Progress. We may have found a witness, but we have to interview her just to be sure. We have composite sketches of the two guys David remembers. We're moving forward, so that's a good thing." He leaned forward on his desk. "Tell me what's going on with Washington."

  "I know he's going to connect the dots eventually, if he hasn't already, and figure out David is my brother. I'm thinking he might fire me because of it, but he'd have a contract issue, right?"

  Gavin read the contract, his eyes darting back and forth over first one page and then another. He folded the pages and handed them back to me. "Right. You have terms for cancellation. But I think the bigger question is why you're still going to do this job for him when he can't make his feelings about gays any clearer."

  "I'm doing this job because the money from this contract is important. I'm a single mother, remember? Not only that. It's the contacts I can get from this job. He knows people who know people. Where else could I get these referrals? I don't have to like him to take his money." I shoved the contract in my purse.

  "No, you don't. But at some point, you need to decide what or who you're willing to stand up for. For some of us, there's a defining point in our lives. A place we draw a line, step over it, and decide we're never going back over it again."

  I wasn't expecting a le
cture from Gavin. "Are you suggesting I don't care about David?"

  "It's not my place to pass judgment on that. Maybe if I tell you why I represent hate crime victims, it'll make more sense."

  Gavin told me he was in high school when his older sister Amanda came home from college during spring break and told their parents she was gay. "They offered to buy her a washer and dryer," he said and shook his head. "My parents thought if she had her own, she wouldn't need to move in with the woman she told them she loved. One of those things that, if it wasn't your own family, it would be funny."

  I nodded. That I understood.

  He eased back in his chair and tapped a pen on the palm of his hand. "Here I was, like most high school kids, totally egocentric, always worried about my reputation. While my sister told my parents, what I know now is something that required incredible courage, I listened from the kitchen. My first thought was would I make it through football tryouts if the guys on the team know my sister's gay or if they think I'm gay."

  "Gay by association? I'm familiar with that one . . . unfortunately." I smiled remembering our lunch. He didn't.

  Gavin placed the pen in the pewter holder, leaned forward, forearms on his desk and clasped his hands. He looked at me and continued.

  "My father shouted, my sister shouted back, and my mother refereed. He told my sister she was a disappointment. She could only come home if she stopped sinning, admitted she was wrong. I don't know what she said. I just remember her feet pounding the stairs so fast they sounded like heartbeats. I waked in, tried to talk to my parents, but they refused to discuss it with me. I don't even think she knew I was home."

  He stopped, but he looked past me, as if he waited for the pieces of the memory to fall into place. I reached into my purse and silenced my cell phone. A tidal wave of voices in the hall waned as the conversation moved into the office next to his.