Between These Walls

by John Herrick

  Of that, Hunter was certain.

  He had tried it once already.

  It happened his junior year in high school, a few weeks after Hunter turned seventeen years old.

  By that point, he had wrestled with doubts about his sexual identity for five years. He’d given it little thought at first. Growing up, he’d assumed he would get married and have kids. He’d had crushes on girls his age. As a young boy, he’d had girlfriends of the elementary-school type, where they would eat lunch together on occasion or dance together at the school’s Valentine’s Day party. Nothing had caused him concern.

  Until the day curiosity hit. Hunter couldn’t pinpoint when it happened; it camouflaged itself in a blur as it crept into his life. But at some point, he found himself wondering about the anatomy of other boys his age. By no means a fixation, it distracted Hunter, taking the form of images on which his mind would linger for a minute before he returned his attention to other matters. It seemed akin to a gnat weaving around his head on a hot summer day.

  But his curiosity grew year after year. And by age seventeen, the notion of potential attraction to other males had caused him alarm. Yet he hadn’t told a soul.

  Hunter had given his life to Christ the year before. He’d heard stories of how some people, upon becoming Christians, experienced freedom from physical issues: a miracle healing or deliverance from alcohol or cigarette addiction. Hunter himself knew a classmate who’d had a penchant for vodka on the weekends but, upon receiving Christ, had lost the desire to touch another bottle. Hunter believed those testimonies were genuine and, in the case of the classmate, he’d witnessed firsthand the tangible evidence and the change in behavior.

  So Hunter had wondered why, upon giving his life to Christ, he hadn’t lost his curiosity toward the same gender. Not only hadn’t he lost that curiosity, but he’d wondered whether God frowned upon him for experiencing the same attractions he’d experienced before becoming a Christian. He knew his conversion had brought significant change to other areas of his life—mental, physical, the way he treated other people—so he didn’t doubt the impact of his faith. Instead, he concluded he faced a struggle that wouldn’t end any time soon.

  Nobody suspected he wasn’t a red-blooded male. By his junior year in high school, Hunter had played baseball for years, and had dabbled in basketball, cross-country and other sports at leisure. He’d found his place with the jocks, the popular crowd at school, and had benefitted from the abundance of masculine connotations and assumptions that accompanied his status. Girls found his personality charming. They whispered about his brown hair and the golden specks in his green eyes. In the hallways, freshmen girls giggled when they found themselves the focus of his unintentional eye contact. Cheerleaders—even the gorgeous ones perched at the highest rungs on the slippery social ladder of adolescence—flirted with him, hinted at his taking them out. They wanted to be seen with him. They wanted a reputation as Hunter Carlisle’s girlfriend.

  No one suspected anything awry about Hunter Carlisle.

  And Hunter did nothing to suggest otherwise. When it came to hiding his secret, he treated it like a baseball game, playing through an injury. Hunter laughed with the guys and flirted with the girls. When a beautiful girl sought physical contact, he would often oblige, within the boundaries he’d set for himself. Once he became a Christian, his confidence soared higher than it already had.

  Jenna Coltrane was his first real girlfriend. A cheerleader Hunter’s age, Jenna looked like a Barbie doll, with long, blond hair that shined on sunny days. Her bosom caught the attention of many teenaged guys. Yet Jenna possessed a down-to-earth nature which Hunter found appealing. Though she wasn’t a Christian, she treated people with kindness. Hunter knew she didn’t seek a relationship with him to build her reputation or to land herself a fairy-tale picture in the high school yearbook. In their time alone together, she asked him questions about life and held genuine curiosity about his views.

  Hunter and Jenna’s relationship began when they attended a homecoming dance together as friends. From there, they studied together in the evenings, spent weekends running around with their mutual friends, and, when the weather wasn’t too cold, huddled together in front of bonfires in Jenna’s backyard. Jenna had an inherent sense for navigating a high school relationship. Hunter, along for the ride, followed her lead. Though he held a secret, Jenna ignited self-confidence in him. When he was with her, hope emerged that his sexual struggle might dissipate with time, that he might awaken one morning free, banishing his secret to the past without further consideration, the way he would toss aside a bad dream.

  That didn’t mean, however, that Hunter didn’t feel uncomfortable when Jenna started talking about expanding their physical border. He found the concept of sex frightening—not the act itself, but how he would accomplish such a feat with her. He found her attractive, but in a way that made him feel alive, not aroused. Sexual attraction toward her was absent. Not that he found the concept of intercourse with Jenna repulsive; rather, the concept struck him as bland. He simply felt … nothing.

  Besides, sex outside of marriage went against the teachings of his newfound faith.

  Sex seemed unfair to Jenna, as though Hunter’s consent would give her an inaccurate impression of what their future together might hold.

  No, he thought to himself, I couldn’t do that to her.

  But it was her idea, right? He hadn’t asked for it.

  Maybe God could turn it around for good. After all, God wouldn’t want him to remain attracted to other men, would He? When playing basketball, you couldn’t always score alone. Sometimes you needed an assist.

  One Friday night in February, Jenna’s parents were out of town. Hunter’s parents had given him a midnight curfew. Hunter and Jenna wouldn’t need that much time.

  Before leaving town, her parents had locked their liquor cabinet but had overlooked a few bottles of wine they kept in a refrigerator in the basement. By the time her parents would look through those wine bottles, they would assume they had drunk the missing bottle around the holidays and forgotten about it.

  Instead of looking forward to losing his virginity and proving to himself that we was, indeed, a heterosexual male, a muffled anxiety churned in his belly. It lasted the entire week leading up to that Friday night. By the time he arrived at Jenna’s house, Hunter still didn’t have a clue how he would get through what lay ahead.

  According to Jenna, it wouldn’t be her first time. She’d done it once before, but nothing that would relegate her to the “slut” category. Hunter had confided about his virginity, to which Jenna had said she understood and would guide him, if that would help. That had removed some of his pressure. The alcohol helped numb his fears.

  The evening played out faster than Hunter had expected.

  Jenna had some of her favorite music playing, songs by Justin Timberlake and Rhianna. Though Hunter had spent countless hours inside Jenna’s home, it seemed different that night. The furniture in the den, a reflection of Jenna’s parents’ taste, reminded Hunter he wasn’t an adult. And when he followed Jenna into her bedroom, Hunter felt as though he’d wandered into another world. No matter where he looked, he saw signs of their youth: the book bag on the floor beside a small desk, a stuffed animal he’d given her on Valentine’s Day, the blue-and-white pom-poms she’d used at football games.

  Nervous, Hunter trembled. He felt tremors in his bones and prayed Jenna wouldn’t notice, but how couldn’t she? Even his teeth started to chatter before he forced them to stop.

  Jenna removed his shirt and ran her hands along his chest. Hunter closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and breathed deep. He felt himself calm. The alcohol crept through his limbs and felt like sunshine radiating through his veins.

  They wasted little time on foreplay. Before Hunter knew it, they’d removed their clothes and slid beneath the sheets. Though the furnace buzzed in the house, the sound of winter wind whipping outside the bedroom window sent Jenna into a shiver. Hun
ter ran his warm palms, back and forth, upon her shoulders.

  Hunter felt relieved. The awareness of his nakedness in a new place and the chill of the sheet against his bare skin stimulated him as he hovered over his girlfriend. Yet he couldn’t reach complete arousal. He said nothing. Jenna stroked him and it helped, but the fact that his sexual desire wasn’t aimed toward her had introduced an invisible barrier, a force field, between his will and his physical ability.

  Jenna’s eyes were closed, for which Hunter was thankful. He feared his face might betray his concerns.

  He grinded against her. He laid kisses upon different areas of her body. Nothing seemed to work for him. Desperate, Hunter started to panic inside. Beads of perspiration lined his brow.

  He couldn’t keep buying time. He had to enter her at some point, but she would notice if he wasn’t fully aroused. Surely it would take away from her satisfaction. What could he do?

  Hunter winced at the idea. But he had run out of options.

  Shifting his mental focus from Jenna, he escaped into the corridors of his imagination. Hunter had always had a weak spot for his friend Randy and had filed away mental images of him from numerous occasions.

  As Hunter concentrated on those images, blood rushed down to his torso and he felt himself increase in size. Hunter and Jenna, slick with perspiration, moved together in rhythm. Hunter’s mind swirled.

  And before he knew it, they finished.

  Jenna relaxed. Exhausted, Hunter panted to recapture his breath. He rolled over beside her and felt his entire body go limp on her bed. She reached for his hand and entwined her fingers with his.

  For the first minute after they finished, Hunter felt thrilled. The pleasure had proven different from anything else he’d experienced. He felt as though he had passed a milestone, conquered an undiscovered land.

  But when Hunter considered the bigger picture of what he’d done—or, more accurately, how he’d accomplished it—guilt overwhelmed him fast.

  He peered at Jenna, who had fixed her eyes upon his, a gentle yearning in her irises and the shape of her eyelids. In Jenna’s eyes, Hunter could see her heart had bonded with his.

  For Hunter, however, the bond felt lacking. Emotionally disconnected. Conflicted.

  The truth was, he cared for Jenna from deep within his heart. She had trusted him, and he knew he had taken advantage of her trust. The realization sunk in the waters of his soul.

  Yes, that night had been her idea. Hunter could try to justify it however he wished, but deep down, he knew Jenna’s perception of what had occurred was in stark contrast to his.

  She believed he had desired her, that he had focused on her as they moved together. Jenna had engaged in the presence of the moment, while Hunter’s mind had strayed. While whimpers of satisfaction had escaped her lips, his thoughts had traveled elsewhere.

  Jenna had focused on Hunter. Hunter had focused on another man.

  You only get one opportunity to lose your virginity. And when Hunter lost his, it wasn’t even real. The experience felt dishonest, as if he had taken something not only from Jenna, but from himself, as well.

  Another secret he could never reveal.

  He wrapped his arm around her and she cuddled against him. Her perspiration had evaporated, leaving the flesh of her upper arms clammy and cool. He planted a soft kiss on her temple because it seemed the right thing to do. After all, he didn’t know what to say.

  In the weeks afterward, despite his efforts to convince himself otherwise, Hunter knew his sexual encounter with a woman hadn’t cured him as he had hoped it would. The realization left him more confused, more disheartened, than ever.

  Moreover, Hunter found himself in spiritual anguish. Knowing he had trampled his values as a Christian—engaging in a sexual encounter outside of marriage—made him feel worse. He imagined Jesus looking down upon him from heaven. How displeased He must feel in him, Hunter thought. That was the hardest part of what Hunter had done: the feeling that he had let God down. Shadows of torment crept into his soul as Hunter recognized he could never rectify what he’d done—the deception, the lust, the disobedience to God.

  After a month of shadows dancing in his soul, Hunter decided to do what he always did when he’d stepped outside of God’s will: He returned to God. One night, unable to fall asleep and restless at the thought of going to school in the morning with a half-night’s slumber, Hunter’s mind drifted once again to his encounter with Jenna. He whispered from his heart to God’s heart.

  “Lord,” Hunter whispered, “I really let you down this time. The hardest part is the wall I’ve constructed between You and me this past month. There’s nothing I can do about the mistake I made, but I can’t go forward with this guilt anymore. You said Jesus paid for it at the cross, so I’m trusting You to forgive me and take care of it.”

  Hunter sensed God’s presence. In truth, that presence had never left him; Hunter had felt God trying to wrap His arm around him in the dark moments of the past month, but he hadn’t opened himself to God’s love and forgiveness. But that night, alone in his bed, as awareness of God’s mercy flooded Hunter’s heart, a tear of gratitude trickled from his eye and Hunter drifted to sleep in peace.

  “Looks like the movie grabbed your heart after all,” came Kara’s voice, soft.

  Hunter startled, unaware he had drifted into memories past. “Huh?”

  With two fingers, Kara reached over and brushed the tear that had escaped from his eye.

  CHAPTER 10

  The basketball hit the rim with a muted clang.

  It deflected toward Hunter, who caught the ball, dribbled it several feet from the basket, then halted. With the ball in both hands, he swiveled at the waist to his left, then to his right. Jesse Barlow, mere inches behind his back, shadowed him. When Jesse, who was over six feet tall, spread his arms, their breadth limited Hunter’s options. A drop of perspiration slid into Hunter’s eye, which he wiped against his shoulder. Another drop trickled past his upper lip and brought the taste of sodium to his tongue.

  Hunter faked to the right, then dribbled to the left, just fast enough to get Jesse off his tail. Hunter passed the ball to his friend Rex, whom Hunter had known since high school. Rex dribbled farther down the court, as two guys darted for him. At the moment one of them reached Rex, before the guy had a chance to extend his arm, Rex rocketed straight off the ground and launched the ball toward the basket for a three-point jumper.

  “You did not just make that shot!” Jesse shouted in good-humored disbelief.

  Rex shrugged. Jesse shook his head. Hunter and the other guys joined in the laughter. And with that, the six of them decided to call the pickup game to an end. They headed for a bench at the side of the court, where they had set their water bottles and phones, along with their keys and wallets.

  On Saturday mornings like this, frequently Hunter and several friends met at the basketball court at Hunter’s church to shoot hoops. Between these pickup games and his weekly Bible study meetings, Hunter had the opportunity to hang out with Jesse Barlow or Joe Garza a couple of times per week. The other three guys didn’t attend Hunter’s church. Having never had a faith-related conversation with Rex, Hunter couldn’t determine where he stood on the matter. Hunter knew that neither Randy Gresh nor Matt Toenjes were Christians. Hunter had known Randy since childhood. Matt was a graduate student at Akron University.

  Hunter wiped his face with his T-shirt, which was drenched with perspiration. The October air chilled his skin dry. His palms, coated with dust and grime from the basketball, felt caked. He could smell the basketball rubber on his fingers. Hunter associated that scent with invigoration, a scent that had proven one of the few constants in his life, regardless of his age.

  Randy nudged Matt and said, “You coming tonight?”

  “Definitely. Last week was crazy, man!”

  “Where are you guys going?” Joe asked.

  “Last Saturday night, we met up with a couple more guys and decided to hit some clubs,�
�� Randy replied. “The ladies, man, I’m telling you what …”

  “Nice, huh?” Rex said.

  “And at one place, we met two girls who’d shown up together,” Randy spread his fingers, the way a bard might share an ounce of folklore with a captive audience. “These women had it all. One looked like a model, the kind of body you’d like to—”

  “Randy got her number,” Matt interrupted.

  “What about you?” Hunter asked Matt.

  “We’ll sharpen Matt’s skills tonight,” Randy said. With that, he took a swig from his water bottle and leaned back on the bench, his head resting against a chain-link fence behind them. “If you’re ever a bachelor in the near future, Carlisle, we’ll need to take you to those clubs.”

  “Oh sure, because random hookups at clubs are right up my alley,” Hunter joked.

  Though Hunter fit in well with other guys, he said little. Once he graduated college, he grew more introspective and found less need for ordinary banter. As a teenager, he’d proven much more vocal about his opinions on women and other topics.

  He couldn’t explain why, but his mind now turned to a random Friday night as a teenager. Hudson had won its football game that night. High school students had packed into cars, grabbed french fries and shakes at a fast-food drive-thru, then parked at a strip mall on Streetsboro Street, where shops had closed for the night. A fall breeze nipped at Hunter’s cheeks. He’d arrived with Rex, Rex’s girlfriend, and two other guys, all crammed into Hunter’s car. With a shout, the five of them climbed out and rested their butts against the car as they ate.

  As more cars arrived and screeched to a halt, whoops and hollers from football players and others in Hunter’s crowd combined in volume. Cheerleaders and other girls shrieked and cackled. Boyfriends and girlfriends groped. A car stereo blared, its subwoofer sending shudders along the asphalt pavement. Teenagers meandered from one car to the next, some to socialize, others in search of a significant other.