Caught in the Crossfire

by Juliann Rich

  The words gay man thundered in my ears. I cringed and nodded.

  “Have you read the Old Testament?”

  “Enough to know that it frowns on being gay, to put it mildly.”

  “True. Have you read the whole Old Testament?”

  “No, I guess not. I always meant to.”

  “It always amazes me how few Christians have actually read the whole Bible, especially the Old Testament. Did you know that the Old Testament also states that if there is mold in your bathroom you need to have a priest come into your home and examine it?”

  “No way!” The words erupted out of my mouth. “Where does it say that?”

  “Read Leviticus. You’ll find that there are lots of things in the Old Testament that most Christians don’t follow. For example, there’s a lot of stuff in there about polygamy and slavery being okay. Did you know that?” In the distance a huge flock of birds rose up out of the forest and scattered in different directions, cawing their warnings to each other.

  “Yeah, actually I did. I just never thought about it before.” My mind spun at Simon’s words. “How come you know all this stuff?”

  “You remember I told you about when I was in the hospital after my accident? Even though I was angry with God at that time, I still clung to my beliefs like a lifeline. One of those beliefs was that gay people were choosing a lifestyle that led them away from God. Of course, I had never known an openly gay person before. Then I was assigned a physical therapist named Sam. He was the most patient person I’d ever met. Every ounce of the physical strength and a great deal of the emotional strength that I have today, I owe to Sam. He pushed me when I needed to be pushed and he listened when I needed to yell. One day Sam’s boyfriend, Patrick, picked him up at work. They were going out for dinner to celebrate their twelfth anniversary. I remember thinking—twelfth anniversary? Weren’t gay guys just about casual relationships that were based on sex? But Sam and Patrick clearly loved each other. It got me thinking about why God would have a problem with two people loving each other. I had a lot of time on my hands, and I was already in a place where I was drilling God with some hard questions, so I threw that one in there too, and after a lot of praying and reading the Bible, I came up with one question that I just couldn’t get over.”

  “What was that?”

  “When did it become okay for the people who hold the Bible to be God’s absolute truth to choose which parts of it to enforce, like the sections about homosexuality, and which parts to write off as not applying to us anymore, like the parts about slavery or polygamy?”

  “I always thought that we had to take the Bible as God’s word. You know, literally. All of it.”

  “I did too, Jonathan, but the problem is that the meaning of words changes throughout the years. Take the word homosexuality, for example. Did you know that it never actually appears in the Bible? However, when the Bible was written it was quite common for a man to sodomize another man after defeating him in a battle. Some places, like Sodom, treated newcomers to their city that way. It was rape, not love—and yes, the God I know would absolutely disapprove of such brutality, then and today. He would call that an abomination. But two people, in love and committed to one another? No, Jonathan, I don’t see God calling that an abomination. Did you ever read 1 and 2 Samuel?”

  “Yeah, I read all about Jonathan and David.”

  “What did you think about their story?”

  “I think they loved each other.” Thousands of brilliant lights danced off the whitecaps on the lake and hurt my eyes. I had to squint to take it all in.

  “So do I, and many Biblical scholars agree with us. They believe that King David, a man after God’s own heart, and Jonathan shared a love that we would describe today as a committed, loving homosexual relationship.”

  “I thought maybe I was just seeing something I wanted to see. I guess I thought it wasn’t possible to be gay and a man after God’s heart. That’s what has been tearing me apart.”

  “For now I’m going to give you a different question to try to answer: What does God want most from you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

  “Think about it. I believe you’ll find when you can answer that question, you will see a lot of things more clearly. Now tell me this, what are you the most afraid of?”

  “That if I am myself, really myself, God, my family, and my friends won’t love me anymore.”

  “Because you’re gay.”

  “Yeah, because I’m gay.” I said the words aloud for the first time. The truth of the statement shook me.

  “In my experience, loving isn’t a choice. It’s a state of being.”

  One of the loons called out from across the lake, breaking the stillness of the moment.

  “Tell that to Ian’s parents.”

  “Yes, I know about that. I like to think that on some level, they still love him, but they just can’t stand by him through this. I don’t see what good that kind of love does a person, and I’m not going to pretend that I can understand them. Instead I’m going to ask you: If God’s love actually is unconditional, even if the people closest to you fail you, would it be enough?”

  “I’ll think about it, okay?”

  “Sure. I’ll look forward to hearing your thoughts when you’ve chewed on it a bit. There’s one other thing, though, that I would be remiss if I didn’t say. Being physically intimate with someone is a powerful thing. It is something that should only be entered into when you are ready. Understand?”

  “Thanks, Simon. I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t talk to you about this.”

  “Anytime, my friend, and I mean that. Now isn’t there someone else you need to talk to?”

  I groaned. “Do I have to?”

  “No, you could sit here, yakking at me all day until we turn into fish-flavored Krispy Kremes.” Simon grinned. “Or you could go face the music. Own up to Ian and ask for forgiveness.”

  “And if he won’t forgive me?”

  “You’ll still feel better knowing that you tried to make amends.”

  *

  I hurried along the lower trail of Spirit Lake.

  “Boozhoo, Needjee.” Dawn and Bear emerged from a connecting trail. “You missed the nature hike.” She stated it as a fact, without judgment. A stench rose off Bear who hung his tail and ears in misery.

  “Was it today? I’m sorry, I meant to go.” I stepped away from Bear and put my hand to my nose. “Whew, Bear, you’re ripe. What did you get into, fella?”

  “This stupid dog thinks he is a spaniel, evidently. He flushed out a skunk and, as you can smell, the skunk won. Makwa has no common sense.” Dawn grinned. I suspected she enjoyed Bear’s naughtiness as much as the rest of us did.

  “I don’t know, maybe he took the skunk spray so no one else would have to.” I looked at Bear’s rich brown eyes, the color of melted chocolate.

  “You have such a good heart. You always see the good in things. But you don’t have to give Makwa a tomato-juice bath!” Bear’s head swiveled up to look at Dawn. He let out a low whimper. “Don’t worry about missing the nature hike. You have had other things on your mind.”

  “Yeah, I have.”

  “It happens.” Dawn’s ability to speak truth in two words never failed to impress me. Acceptance came so easily to her. “You are on your own walk now, Needjee.”

  “I guess I am.” Light broke through the forest roof and highlighted a leaf, then a twig, revealing startling bursts of color in a world that could be mistaken as dark and dreary. “See you later, Dawn.”

  “Ayaangwaamizin—sorry, be careful. This dog has me thinking in Ojibwe again. Seriously though, I don’t like what I’m hearing in the wind. Keep an eye on the sky today.”

  “Okay, will do.” I left Dawn and Bear—who seemed to have understood the word bath and looked worried—and followed the trail that led to Porcupine Point. In the distance Bear howled his protest. You brought this on yourself, buddy. The thought made me uneasy.
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  “Hey.” I stepped into the clearing. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

  “What the hell do you want?” Ian stood at the precipice of the cliff. His eyes shone brighter than normal as if he had just finished crying. Oh my God, he’s even more beautiful than I remembered. I couldn’t breathe.

  “Ian, I’m sorry.” I crossed the clearing to where he stood, “I’m so sorry. After we, you know. Well, I freaked.”

  “Yeah, that’s a fair summation.” He squared off, arms crossed, and stared me down.

  “So, you understand?”

  “Hell no, I don’t understand. You ran. Two nights ago you left me here after what we shared, and you ran. I don’t need to listen to any more of your bullshit.” Ian began to walk away.

  “Wait, I need to tell you something.”

  He whipped around. “You need? What do I give a shit about what you need?”

  Heat rose up from the ground and pushed down on me from the sky above me. It reached out from the forest and up from the lake that had begun to churn and kick up a spray.

  “Did you give a shit about what I needed when I lay here, the taste of you still in my mouth, and you ran because you couldn’t handle it? And now you need to talk to me about something?”

  Guilty. On all counts.

  The blue sky disappeared as a wall of clouds rolled in from the north.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Too bad I don’t feel the burning need to listen.” Ian pushed past me. “Not anymore.”

  He couldn’t leave, not like this. I spun him around. My hands clamped on his triceps, and I pressed my lips against the hard ridges of his scowl, half expecting him to soften and yield to me and I took the punch full in the gut.

  “Leave me the hell alone, Jonathan.” He said my name the way he said fuck you. I hit the ground gasping as he disappeared into the bush that led to the forest.

  “Wait, Ian. Stay with me.” But it was too late. He was already gone.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “Why?” I yelled after Ian. “Why can’t you understand this? You see everything else about me, but you don’t get that these feelings scare the crap out of me.” I crouched on all fours on the hard dirt ground at the precipice of Porcupine Point. Sucking wind. Trying to catch my breath long after my gut had recovered from Ian’s punch. The air felt different. Heavier and thicker. The temperature dropped and the wind blew off the lake with the attitude of someone ready to pick a fight. The golden glow from the sun disappeared behind a thick veil of low-hanging clouds that churned in a way that made me nervous. Cold, clammy chills ran over my flesh. I was alone, staring at the small opening in the bush, willing him to come back.

  He didn’t.

  Each second that passed confirmed what I already knew. Whatever had existed between us was dead. I had murdered it.

  He can’t understand this because he doesn’t know Me as you do. The answer pushed itself into my mind.

  “That’s no excuse. He knows me.” I spat my anger out at God and immediately tasted the lie.

  In the distance the emergency horn blasted. All campers were to return to the safety of the main lodge. I pictured Paul searching the sky for signs of danger, leaning toward the radio, listening. The wind swept up the cliff and almost knocked me over. A low, rippling cloud ceiling rolled in, backlit and underbrushed like a charcoal sketch. I ducked through the small opening in the bush that led to the forest.

  My watch glowed 5:15 p.m., but the forest was oddly dark. I walked along the upper trail with my hands in front of me, groping for tree trunks to guide me. A bolt of lightning shattered the sky, lighting up the white birch trees. The only sounds in the forest were the wailing of the wind and the thundering beat of my heart. My eyes darted for signs that I was still on the right trail. Ian’s voice taunted me. You sing it and dance it and walk it and talk it. You hallelujah and amen in all the right spots. I stumbled over a root, toppled forward, and grabbed for a tree to catch myself with burned hands.

  Yup, that’s me. I winced. At least it was before I met Ian. I tried to swallow the blame I wanted to place on him, but my gut rebelled. A rush of acid filled my mouth and tasted of more lies. I stumbled on the offshoot to the lower trail and slid down the muddy decline to the trail that led back to camp and Paul.

  Under attack of the enemy…in bondage to sin…the man of the family now. Thunder crashed in the dark sky. Lightning flashed, scary close. The trees thinned and provided less shelter as I neared the camp. The heavy, thick air that had been crushing me relaxed. Fat drops of rain coated my arms and face, and I searched the sky that churned a sickening shade of green into the charcoal clouds, but there were no answers there either.

  The muscles of my chest cramped. I sucked the cold air in between my clenched teeth and blew it out. Short and hard and angry. Raindrops multiplied like broken promises and hurled their accusations on my head.

  “Please forgive me!” The howling wind drowned out my voice. The strong branches of the fir trees swayed wildly. A fierce breeze swept off Spirit Lake and rattled through the trees. Even the leaves fluttered their judgment of me as I pulled my thin shirt tighter against my body and leaned into the wind.

  I stepped out of the forest and into a world I didn’t recognize. The heavy split-pea sky hung low, bathing the camp in an eerie green light. Wind screamed, shrill and high pitched. The emergency horn blasted. Adrenaline pulsed through my body and my hands flew to my ears, but did little good. The strong trees thrashed in the wind. The young ones, not much more than twigs, snapped in two. Willow, my willow, tossed to a frenzied beat. The dark gray surface of the lake crashed in protest. The air tasted of dirt and exposed marrow from the twisted and downed trees that scattered the campground. Tucking my head, I ran against the wind and the rain, weaving and ducking to dodge the debris. A shutter flew past me. Shingles pelted me. The screen door to the boathouse wrenched off its hinges and flew through the air, just missing me. Even the camp buildings were out to get me.

  I blew into the lodge like a scandal. Rain and mud splattered anyone close to me. Simon, Dawn, and most of the Curtain Call cast were huddled by the crackling fire that filled the room with light and warmth. The smoke of burning applewood mixed with the spicy scent of Hannah’s chili and fresh-baked corn bread.

  “Jonathan, oh thank God.” Simon broke speed limits as he wheeled over to me. “We’ve been so worried about you and Ian.” He looked behind me.

  “Ian?” Simon’s words hit me like a second punch. Tremors ran across my body. “You mean he’s not here?”

  “He’s not with you?”

  “No. He isn’t. I thought he’d be here.” I scanned the lodge: people sat at the tables, stood by the fire, watched the storm from the windows as if it were a freaking reality TV show. Someone cranked the radio’s volume to unbearable. An obnoxious triple beep blasted through the lodge and silenced everyone. A newscaster began speaking:

  The National Weather Service in Cook County has detected a severe thunderstorm capable of producing golf-ball-sized hail and damaging winds in excess of sixty miles per hour. This storm is located near Grand Marais, moving east at thirty miles per hour. This is a dangerous storm. People outside should move to a shelter, inside a strong building and away from windows. Large hail, damaging winds, and continuous cloud-to-ground lightning is occurring with this storm. Move indoors immediately. Remember: if you can hear thunder, you are close enough to be struck by lightning. This warning is in effect until one thirty a.m.

  An explosion of chatter erupted in the lodge. Hannah rushed out of the kitchen with a large towel and wrapped it around my drenched body. “Go sit by the fire, honey, you’re freezing.”

  “I can’t, Hannah. He’s missing.” I shrugged the towel off and put my hand on the door handle.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” Simon’s eyes flew open with concern.

  “I’ve got to go find him. I can’t leave him out there. Not again.” My voice rose to a wail on par with the wind. Heads turned,
but I ignored them. Simon wheeled in front of me, blocking the door.

  “Now think this through. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  “In the forest. Maybe along the upper trail.”

  Dawn looked up from where she sat at the fireplace and spoke, “The spot where you were praying that night? I know where it is. I’ll go.” She stood, put on her raincoat, and grabbed a flashlight and a walkie-talkie. Bear howled in protest. She leaned down to the whining dog and whispered, “It’s all right. It’s just a lot of light and noise. Gego zegiziken, Makwa. There’s nothing to fear. Bethany, would you watch him for me?” Dawn held Bear’s leash toward her. “You’re going to have to hold his leash tight, or he’ll bolt out into the storm after me.”

  “I will.” Bethany took the leash from Dawn and turned to me. She looked scared. “You’re not actually going out in this, are you, Jonathan?”

  “Of course he’s not.” Paul strode from the window where he had been looking at the sky. Everything about him said his decision was final. I felt myself bending beneath his will. Images of Ian with hands curled into fists flashed through my mind. His spirit, his strength, and probably a big chunk of his stupidity seeped into me.

  I pictured my father, holding the Medal of Honor he’d earned on his first tour of duty for going back for the body of a fallen soldier only to discover the soldier was still alive. I just did what any good soldier does, he’d told me. Leave no man behind, that’s the Marine way.

  “Yes, I am.” I grabbed a raincoat and put it on. Took another for when I found Ian. I couldn’t even think the word if. Dawn handed me the second walkie-talkie.

  “Jonathan, Dawn, I forbid this. It’s dangerous. You will both stay here inside this lodge where you are safe.” Paul spoke with his best sermon-giving voice. It boomed through the room.

  “And what about Ian?” I spun around to face him. “Or don’t you care about him, Paul?”

  “I will not put the life of a person at this camp at risk by allowing you or Dawn to go out into this storm. It’s right on top of us! We will wait until it subsides, and then I’ll go out to find him.”