by John Herrick
“That was all true,” Hunter replied. “I never had sex with anyone else, and not with Gabe, either. We’d never gone as far as we did until tonight.”
“Gabe? His name is Gabe?” Kara mimicked. “So how long have you and Gabe been together?” She paused. A knowing glare shrouded her eyes. “This is why you broke up with me, isn’t it! It was him!”
“Kara—”
No sooner had he spoken, Kara started pounding her little fists against his chest. Though her punches didn’t hurt him, he figured he’d best stop her before she lost control and started to throw things. Careful not to hurt her, he grabbed her arms at the wrists and held them still.
“Kara, listen to me—”
She wriggled to get loose from his grip. Hunter pulled her closer so she wouldn’t twist her wrists and hurt herself.
“Let me go!” Kara shouted.
“Kara, listen to me,” Hunter said, struggling to keep a grasp on her arms until she showed signs of composure. His voice reminded him of a father nudging his child toward rational behavior. “You need to … calm … down.”
“I don’t need your advice! You’ve screwed me over, Hunter!”
“Kara, it wasn’t you—”
Hunter grimaced, holding on as Kara yanked him to her left, then her right. Finally, she thrust herself against his chest with a blast of force and broke free. Hunter watched rage burn in her blue eyes. She jabbed her index finger against his chest.
“You’re a liar, Hunter,” she said. Her voice had subsided to eerie composure.
Kara stepped back, took one long look at him from toe to head, and Hunter knew she meant every word she said. Wary, he watched each move she made. Not only had she recovered her composure, but he perceived a strange confidence about her, one which pointed to trouble ahead.
Lips pursed, Kara crossed her arms. She examined him once more.
“I don’t ever want to see you again,” she said. To Hunter, her words sounded like a statement of fact rather than emotion.
And with that, Kara turned around. She grabbed her purse from the floor—she had retrieved her scarf and put it in her purse while Hunter and Gabe had gotten dressed—and didn’t bother to wait for Hunter to let her out. She slammed the door behind her. The house thundered. Even the glasses on the coffee table clinked and shook. The house key, Kara’s former key, pinged on the coffee table and fell to the floor.
The ensuing stillness struck Hunter as foreign in the wake of their fight. His living room was silent except for the next sitcom on the television, which, amid the uproar, nobody had thought to turn off. A wave of audience laughter erupted. Hunter seized the remote control and shut it off.
CHAPTER 35
He didn’t know where to turn, but he knew he must turn quickly. Otherwise, he stood to lose whatever remnant of control over his circumstances he might salvage. Hunter foresaw a hailstorm ahead. Kara was furious and had no reason to keep quiet after last night’s fight. People would find out about Gabe and him in no time.
Hunter craved another Christian on his side who wouldn’t judge him.
Earlier that morning, he had called Pastor Chuck to see if he was in the office and to ask whether he had time to talk. Hunter had avoided mentioning the topic. Chuck had suggested Hunter come to the church around lunchtime. The more Hunter considered Chuck’s suggestion, the more he liked it: Fewer staff members would be in the office during lunch. At least Hunter could preserve some degree of privacy, no matter how fleeting it might prove within a few days.
Hunter stomped his feet on the doormat to shake the show from his shoes. As he entered the church building, he realized Pastor Chuck wouldn’t have heard about Gabe and him yet. He pictured Chuck’s potential response to Hunter’s revelation, the disappointment in his pastor’s eyes.
Hunter knew Chuck wouldn’t relate to him firsthand. But maybe he’d be willing to listen.
Hunter listened to the shuffle of his own footsteps along the carpeted floor of the deserted hallway. The church office was on his right.
He didn’t find the church secretary at her desk—out to lunch, he supposed. Since Chuck expected him, Hunter sauntered to his office and knocked on the frame of the open door.
Seated at his desk, Chuck looked up from his computer and lifted his eyebrows. His visage brightened. Instantly, Hunter felt welcome.
“Hey, Hunter! Feel free to shut the door if you want.”
Hunter was glad to do so. He shut the door and took a seat across from his pastor. The man wore a long-sleeved sport shirt and jeans, which complemented his graying hair in a way Hunter couldn’t put a finger on. Chuck carried a few extra pounds around the belly but not enough to cause concern about his health.
“I hope you don’t mind my stopping by,” Hunter said. “I don’t usually do this.”
Chuck waved off the remark with his hand. “No worries. Has it stopped snowing out there?”
“Flurries, nothing else.” Hunter decided to break the ice with casual chitchat. “Could be worse, right? We could be the Browns playing outside in Green Bay on a Sunday.”
“That’s for sure. They came so close to the playoffs, didn’t they?”
“There’s always next year.”
“You’re looking at a guy who believes in miracles,” Chuck grinned and leaned back in his chair. “How’s the job hunt going?”
“I’m plugging away. Interviews here and there, but nothing has worked out yet.”
“God has it figured out. He’ll carry you through to the other side. He’s been faithful to you all along.”
“Yeah, He has.” Hunter stared at his hands folded in his lap. His heartbeat accelerated and his palms grew moist. He gave Chuck a second glance. One last opportunity to back away, before he steeled himself and made the decision to trust. Hunter resolved to move forward. He returned his eyes to his lap, tried to appear casual as he wiped the perspiration from his hands.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Hunter said.
Chuck smiled again, the type that ushered kindness to his eyes.
“Something happened …” Hunter began, then determined that was the wrong way to approach the subject. He decided to start over. “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had these … feelings.”
Chuck said nothing. As he leaned forward, his chair squeaked, but he made a clear attempt to keep the noise down. He laid one hand over the other before him on the desk.
Hunter took note of his pastor’s eyes, which remained fixed upon him. They weren’t judgmental eyes, nor were they angry eyes. They were watchful eyes, the eyes of a protector. A guardian. A shepherd who cares about his flock.
When he perceived this aspect of his pastor’s gaze, Hunter found confidence to take another step forward. Though he felt uncomfortable, he also realized if he could muster the courage to talk, he would find support.
Resting his eyes on his hands, Hunter couldn’t yet bring himself to make eye contact as he spoke. Baby steps.
“I don’t know exactly when these feelings started, but it was back when I was a kid. And I don’t know why I feel this way. I just … I get … I get attracted to other guys, and …”
Hunter paused. He felt his eyes grow moist but forced it back. From his peripheral vision, he watched for a reaction from Chuck, but his pastor remained still, listening. So Hunter continued.
“This isn’t something I’ve told anybody. I’d hoped it would go away, like a passing phase. So I ignored it—the best I could—all this time. I dated girls over the years to try to get myself cured, and also because of the fear—I mean, fear of anyone finding out. But it didn’t work; it didn’t fix me. And I don’t know what’s wrong with me or how to make it better.” Hunter took a breath. The words weren’t coming through the way he wished, but it was the best he could do. “I never had anyone I could tell. I was too humiliated to tell anyone, because it’s one of those things where nobody can understand unless they’ve been there …”
As Hunter considered what he�
��d said so far, a wave of embarrassment washed over him. He raised one hand toward his eyes, to shield them.
“I thought it would go away with time,” Hunter continued, “but instead, it got tougher and tougher, bigger and bigger. And before I knew it, it became a mountain, too big for me to think I could ever confide in anyone. As the shame got worse and worse, I felt weaker and weaker, tired from the battle. It’s been a heavy burden to bear, keeping this inside, not telling a soul. And I wouldn’t have said anything now, except I finally hit a moment of weakness. I wound up in a situation where my ex-girlfriend caught me with another … guy …” Hunter hated the way that word sounded as he spoke it. “Now word will get out. And I didn’t know where to turn, so I came here …”
Hunter trailed off without finishing his thought. Perhaps he should have come into this meeting with a plan, a rough outline of what he would say, the way he would have handled a sales call. In the stillness of the room, he heard the hum of Chuck’s computer as the seconds passed. The heater kicked on for another round and Hunter detected a waft of warmth from a nearby vent.
Chuck broke the silence.
“That’s a long time to hold a secret,” Chuck said, his voice mild and even.
A voice of compassion, Hunter noted.
“But everybody has secrets,” Hunter said. “Why should this one be any harder than anyone else’s?”
“Because this isn’t a matter of having one rough experience on an isolated day, then moving on,” said Pastor Chuck. “This is a struggle that occurs inside you. It affects you body, soul and spirit. If the enemy can isolate you and keep you locked up in shame, he can hinder you from moving forward with God’s call on your life.”
Hunter considered Chuck’s words. “You’re right when you said it’s not just physical. It’s got all these mental and emotional sides to it, where it stays with you 24-7.” Although Hunter grasped for accurate words, he discovered new freedom here. Finally, he was able to talk and someone was willing to listen.
“I don’t want these attractions. I want to be normal like everyone else,” Hunter said, “but it keeps hanging on my life. I can’t shed it. It feels like an addiction—but worse, because you can never escape it. It’s not like a cigarette addiction you’re trying to shake, where you can remove a product from your house and endure a few rough days without it. You might crave those cigarettes, but if they’re not physically in your house, it’s impossible to smoke them because they’re not there. But these feelings inside me—I can’t escape them. The thoughts are in your head, and the attractions are in your heart. You carry them with you wherever you go. So it goes on and on, your whole life. You feel tormented, but you don’t see room to hope anything will ever change, so you never find a place to land. You spend your life drifting.”
Hunter paused, drew a deep breath, then continued. To his own ears, his voice sounded subdued.
“I can’t remember the last time I lived in peace—actual peace, the kind where you can totally rest. I must’ve been a little kid the last time I felt that way. Usually, there comes a point where you can see a light in the distance, and you know if you can just make it that far, you’ll reach the end and your problem will be resolved. But my feelings are different. There’s no end point. It’s like living in permanent purgatory, year after year, and there’s no relief. Ever.”
Hunter sensed hesitation in Chuck, as though his pastor wasn’t sure whether to offer input or just a listening ear.
“You might not know the right words to say,” Hunter said, “but that’s okay, Pastor Chuck. As embarrassing as this is, I thought pressing through and talking about it would help me process it. I didn’t know what all I wanted to say, but it’s a relief to take my time and sort through the complexities. Unlike analyzing it alone, running in circles and getting nowhere, maybe a listening ear would mean progress. Is that okay?”
Chuck blinked once and held steady. “Of course that’s okay.”
That simple allowance brought Hunter respite.
“God and I have had many conversations over the years,” Hunter said. “Sometimes I wonder if God made me this way. It seems easy for people to take a view on this: Some people will tell you you’re made that way; others tell you you’ve made a choice. And it’s confusing for me as the one going through it. If it’s a choice, then why does it feel like I never got an opportunity to choose? A thief who decides to burglarize a house—that’s a choice. But in my case, it feels more like an addiction that developed after someone laced a dessert with a drug: I didn’t even realize I was consuming anything, but wound up in a challenge I never would have sought if given a choice.”
Hunter realized he’d forgotten to keep himself in check when he felt tears spilling from his eyes. Now he sensed his face flushing and felt ridiculous for letting another man see him cry. He brushed the tears away. In his peripheral vision, he saw Chuck with his eye steady upon him, and regardless of all Hunter had said, he continued to sense compassion as his pastor listened. Hunter’s shoulders felt lighter as the weight of a long-borne burden dissipated. Yet, at the same time, what he had revealed to another soul settled in, the knowledge that his revelation conflicted with his pastor’s theological views.
Hunter felt emotionally deflated as he shook his head.
“God must be so disappointed in me,” Hunter said.
Chuck stopped him. “You’re wrong,” he said. “Dead wrong.”
Given the silence in the room and how still Chuck had sat as he listened, the sudden sound of the minister’s deep voice broke an invisible barrier and startled Hunter. Speechless at first, it took a moment for Hunter to respond.
“Wrong about what?” Hunter lifted his head and found Chuck looking him straight in the eye. Despite all Hunter had confided, Chuck didn’t appear afraid to talk; he seemed neither angry nor displeased. He was approachable. And though the man’s countenance remained steady, Hunter thought he caught a glint in his pastor’s eyes.
“God isn’t disappointed in you,” Chuck said, “and He’s not angry.”
Hunter searched Chuck’s eyes for signs of insincerity, indicators that his pastor’s words were empty or patronizing. But Hunter found none.
“He’s not?” Hunter said, unable to downplay his wonder at what he’d heard.
“God’s with you in this, step by step,” Chuck said. “He sticks with you forever. He puts His arm around your shoulder.”
Hunter’s nose had started to run. He reached for a tissue from Chuck’s desk.
Without intending to do so, Hunter had wrapped his arms around himself in a hug. Maybe it made him feel more secure as he considered his pastor’s response. To Hunter’s fascination, his tears represented neither sadness nor joy. Rather, he felt as though a cleansing process had initiated within him, whereby his tears ushered years of pain and rubbish out of his soul. He wiped his eyes with the tissue.
“An arm around my shoulder: Would you believe that’s all I’ve really wanted?” Hunter chuckled to himself. “When you boil everything down to the essence of what I feel, that’s what I’ve always craved, ever since I was a young kid. I’ve just wanted somebody’s arm around me to accept me for who I am. The arm of someone who knows me and wants me to know I’m loved. It’s the thing I longed for most and, strange as it sounds, the one thing I never received for as far back as I can recall.”
Hunter reflected upon his own words. Though he had the company of another individual sitting across from him, Hunter still felt the pang of isolation because, in the end, he knew he would leave Chuck’s office with the same struggle he’d faced when he’d walked through the door. Yes indeed, in times like these, he craved an arm around his shoulder most.
From the other side of the desk, Chuck studied him with the expression of a father watching over his son. Chuck looked as though he were considering his course of action, the next words to say.
“Tell you what,” said Chuck, “we can take care of that right now. Would that help?”
Would
it help? Hunter mused. It would mean the world to me.
Hunter couldn’t muster the words to respond, so he nodded instead. Yet that was all his pastor needed.
Chuck didn’t hesitate to make his way around the desk and hold out his arms.
If a stranger had made such a gesture, it would have struck Hunter as creepy. But coming from his pastor, something about the current circumstances fell into place. A trace of respite, however fleeting, hung within Hunter’s reach. Though Hunter never would have thought to ask for this, Chuck, as a pastor, must have sensed how to respond to one member’s unique needs. Yet another fact impacted Hunter more: Chuck, while knowing the truth about Hunter, wasn’t afraid to reach out and make contact with him.
Hunter’s father was never affectionate. Perhaps now, Chuck sensed Hunter had needed fatherly affection his whole life. Regardless, Chuck’s gesture fostered relief within Hunter’s soul. He didn’t have a chance to think about it or talk himself out of it. Before he could catch himself, he responded.
Hunter got up and stocky Pastor Chuck wrapped him in a bear hug. Hunter responded likewise, allowing himself the freedom to fall into the embrace, the innocent bond between a father and son. The affection Hunter had craved as a child. Hunter trembled as he allowed his defenses to fall.
They clung in their bear hug for a minute or so until Hunter began to calm. Soon Hunter drew a deep breath. Chuck patted him on the back, then returned to the other side of the desk. Each man took his seat.
“A little better now?” Chuck asked. “I know it doesn’t solve everything.”
“It’s better,” Hunter said. His muscles relaxed. The fear of looking into his pastor’s face dissipated. “Thanks, I needed that.”
Chuck picked up a pen, turned it back and forth in his hand, then set it back down. “Can I ask you something?”
Hunter nodded his permission.
