Pride Must Be a Place

by Kevin Craig

  “Thanks, Dad. Just don’t scare Ezra off with your intensity.”

  “No, I’m good. Really.”

  “Well,” Gary says. “At any rate, I’m glad this is happening. The world is different than the one we grew up in. And it’s infinitely better in the bigger cities than it used to be. But for us in the small towns and suburbia? We still have a ways to go yet. I’m excited for your generation, and the level of acceptance you’re seeing. And I know we can make it better for us hicks, too. With a little work.”

  “But it also means kids have to be more careful today,” Marc says. “The bigots and haters know they’ll be outed on social media or something if they’re too mean. So they’re careful about when and how they attack…So. I was thinking about something, Dad.”

  “Oh. Wait now. Am I getting wrangled into something here? I was wondering why you were calling me up here,” Gary says. He looks at me conspiratorially. But I haven’t got a clue. “Oh. I see how this is. You’re not in on it either, eh, Ezra? Well, let’s have it, son. What’s the what-for on this one?”

  “We’re going to need momentum at the beginning, to attract the less radical straights. I love that we’re able to sponsor the club, Dad. I do. But I think we have something way better. More valuable than money.”

  “I’m listening, Marc,” Gary says. To be honest, I’m listening too. Because I don’t know what he’s going to suggest.

  “Well. Your story. Hear me out. I know you don’t always like talking about it, and I know you’re not a public speaker or anything. But let’s face it, Dad, you can talk. I know it’s probably something you wouldn’t want to do, but can you just think about it so we can show what used to happen when there wasn’t support set up in high schools. I really think it would make the biggest impact on the student—”

  “Oh my God, Marc, of course I’m in. I would love to.”

  “This is perfect,” I say. I begin to tear up again, but I don’t care. And now I know I will love Marc Tremblay forever. This is getting harder and harder. I used to think he was perfect, now I know he is.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Well,” Mr. Reason says as he officially launches the first meeting of our new school club. Nelson High School will never be the same, from this day forward. “Who’s going to chair this meeting? I’m here as a faculty adviser. That means I sit here in silence unless you have special questions or anything I can help you with.”

  “We were kind of hoping you would help us figure things out, Mr. Reason,” Nettie says. “We’re kind of new at this.”

  “Well, I'll do what I can, Annette,” he says.

  “You can call me Nettie, sir. Everyone does.”

  “Sorry. Nettie it is. I’ll help in whatever way I can, but I don’t really know about this kind of thing either.” Mr. Reason winks exaggeratedly and we both catch it. I glance over at Nettie and we smile. I think we both wordlessly decide Mr. Reason is definitely gay. The suspicion has been confirmed.

  “I guess one of the first orders of business we should have is to come up with a name for the club.”

  I’m guessing now that Mr. Reason asking about a chair was just a formality. Dude is doing it. Yay, Mr. Reason.

  “Did you want to open it up to a school contest? That way, your first contact with the student body could generate a buzz. People could immediately engage and become involved. The kids would love the chance to put their stamp on it at the gate. Anyone have any thoughts?”

  “I love it,” I say. “It’s exactly what we want. To create a buzz and open a dialogue.”

  “I like the way you think, Ezra,” Mr. Reason says. “You know, when I was in high school a club like this would have been tantamount to high treason. It just would. Not. Fly. You realize that, right, guys.”

  “It’s me you’re talking to, Mr. Reason,” Marc says. Until now he’s been quiet, a wallflower just checking things out. “Of course I know what it used to be like. It’s a part of my history. Dads are educating me non-stop on this stuff. Which brings us to our next big thing, after the name and stuff are chosen.”

  “You’re skipping ahead, Marc. Slow down.”

  “Sorry, sir. I’m just excited to tell you what Ezra and I have secured.”

  “Whoa,” I say. “I had virtually nothing to do with the securing of these things. You’re amazing. All I did was recruit you.”

  “Well,” Mr. Reason says, “You recruited the exact right person.”

  “I know that now,” I say. “I didn’t know it at the time. Lucky, I guess.”

  “Anyway,” Marc begins. “We have a few amazing announcements for you.”

  “What the hell?” Alex says. “I thought we were a team. Why don’t we know about these things?”

  “Well, to be fair, Alex,” Mr. Reason says. “There’s going to be times when you’re all working on different projects. A committee often works independently of one another. It’s how it manages to get everything done at once.”

  Clearly, he’s trying to diffuse Alex’s obvious jealousy, or whatever it is. The boy who had no interest in doing this is going to be the one who complains the most. He is so high maintenance.

  “Dad said he would come to the school and talk at an assembly about the club. And about what hap—”

  “About what happened to him when he was in high school?! Marc. That’s perfect. That is the most incredible thing. Wow. That’s going to go a long way.”

  “I guess it depends on what happened to him, though,” Alex says as if blowing this insignificant news. Yep. He’s jealous. I wish, sometimes, that I could close his mouth before he speaks. Because in about three minutes he’s going to feel like a complete douchebag.

  “Well,” Marc begins. And I know he’s going to be gentle, just because I’m beginning to realize he’s the nicest boy who ever lived on the face of the earth. “My father was attacked when he was in Grade 11. They called it gay-bashing back then. Only, the guy used a knife and pretty much tried to cut his face off.”

  “Well, it’s not like I had any way of knowing that,” Alex says. He kind of barks it out. I’m sending him a telepathic message to shut his frigging mouth, but it’s not getting through. “And, yeah, it’s still called gay-bashing. It’s not like anything has changed.”

  “Actually, Alex,” I say, “Everything has changed. Apples and oranges. Right, Mr. Reason? You must notice a huge difference, right?”

  The question is out of my mouth before I realize its implications. I just basically outed a teacher.

  The room gets quiet for a minute, and I’m not saying everybody starts staring at me in the way that people do when they want to kill you and bury the body. But, yeah.

  “Oops. I didn’t mean anything by that. I mean, no. I just meant you were there…and…well, you would know—”

  “Relax, Ezra. It’s not like I’m busted. I don’t wear a sign, but I think most of you have probably figured out I’m gay. I was assuming that was the reason you handpicked me for the teacher liaison for the club.”

  Huge. Sigh. Of. Relief. And not just from me. I think my friends were all simultaneously eager to see me burned at the stake for asking the question and safe from repercussions for asking the question.

  “Still. Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that. I just got excited. I think Marc’s father is just incredibly awesome. His story is going to make people change their minds. I mean, right? It will, right?”

  I didn’t even realize I had started to tear up. I’m such a loser. Mr. Reason comes over and puts a hand on my shoulder. Marc passes me a tissue. I don’t know where he got it. Apparently, chivalry is also a thing he has in abundance. Thanks for the tissue, dude.

  “Hey, bud. It’s okay. Really, it is. My dad does rock. You’re right.”

  “I’m just starting to feel really hopeful about everything.” I can’t tell them about home. I try not to think about home, talk about home, be home. I don’t know how my father doesn’t know, but I’m certain I’d have to find a place to live if he were ever to fin
d out. I’m even more freaked out now, since Marc told me I can’t pass.

  “It’s the time for hope, Ezra,” Mr. Reason says. “Believe me, there was a time when I thought the world was never going to change. I was there when Gary was attacked. I mean, I wasn’t with him. I didn’t even know him. But he was another gay kid in my school who was dealing with shi—stuff every day, just like me. We were kindred spirits who had not quite met each other yet. I’ll tell you what, though, we met after the attack.”

  “What do you mean,” Nettie asked.

  “Well, that attack provoked the first pro-gay demonstration in this town. And it wasn’t just the six or seven people living here and brave enough to show up for a rally who showed up. I think the town more than doubled in population for a few hours after that day. It was three days after the attack. We still weren’t sure if Gary would survive or not.”

  “I thought the guy slit his face open?” I say. It doesn’t make sense that a wound like that would almost kill him, even though I could see just how bad it must have been.

  “There was more, bud,” Marc says. “I just told you about the scar on his face. The one you can see. The guy stabbed him in the gut while he was falling to the floor. And then he kicked his head in. He had swelling in the brain from the severity of the attack. Actually, the kicks to the head were the worst part, believe it or not.”

  “Wow.” I don’t know if I said that out loud or just to myself.

  “For the most part, nothing really happened to the guy who attacked him,” Mr. Reason begins. “Some were at the rally for justice to be served, some were there for gay rights, and some were there as gawkers just to see what the outcome would be. Didn’t matter, a sympathetic reporter spun it as a gay rights rally and it was one of those things that disrupted the status quo and made us think we might actually matter.

  “Gary came out of the coma about a week later to find that he was a new celebrity. Everyone wanted him to tell his story, but he had turtled like mad. After a long time in the hospital, followed by physiotherapy and, let’s face it, therapy, he was close to who he was before the attack. I didn’t know him before the attack. But those who did said it had taken his spark.

  “I don’t know about you, Marc,” Mr. Reason says. He looks at Marc and they exchange a short giggle. “But if that’s Gary without his spark, I’d be terrified to see Gary with his spark.”

  “Yep.”

  “Yep,” I say. I think I’ve seen enough to know that Marc’s father has the biggest spark of all.

  “Absolutely,” Marc says. We both laugh. Silent Alex gives me a dirty look. Whatever.

  “So, anyway,” Mr. Reason says. I can tell he wants to wrap up our first meeting. Also, I think he’s having a hard time keeping up the authority figure wall. But I could just be reading into things. Clearly he and Marc are friends outside of school. I even wonder if Marc might not call him uncle or something familial like that. “Can we have two people charged to the task of designing and promoting a Name the Club contest?”

  He finger-quotes Name the Club, and then brings the fingers forward and points to both Alex and Nettie.

  “Sure. I’d love to,” Nettie says. “Awesome.”

  “Awesome,” Alex says with negative enthusiasm, if such a thing exists. For no reason whatsoever, or maybe to mock the teacher who apparently is not shining enough of a light on Sir Alex, he finger quotes his awesome.

  Mr. Reason chooses not to engage with Negative Nancy. But I know he knows Alex is sulking. He’s no dummy. Mr. Reason, that is. Because I’m pretty sure, these days anyway, that Alex definitely is a dummy.

  “We have more, Mr. Reason,” I say. “Marc can tell you. It’s just that it’s something that can help with the naming contest, too.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “My dad wants to be our sole sponsor. And he’s giving us any money we need for the entire life of the club.” He turns to Nettie and Alex, but mostly to Alex. I can tell he’s trying to win Alex over. I’m guessing Alex is so stubborn, Marc will never succeed. But I’m hopefully optimistic. “So, we have an unlimited budget.”

  Even though I know now that it could never happen between us, it doesn’t lessen the power of his smile.

  “Oh my god, that’s awesome, Marc!” Nettie says. But Alex only offers him a small smarmy smile. It’s time to have a private one-on-one with Alex. I seriously need to talk to him about his attitude.

  “I wouldn’t put that past Mattieu, Marc. No surprise at all. He loves your dad. You don’t need to be a rocket scientist to see the connection. That’s so wonderful.”

  I can tell this actually chokes Mr. Reason up. And I can’t help it, but I’m feeling a little choked up myself. Even without Alex’s old vinyl copy of Rise Up playing on the turntable, I can hear it in the background non-stop these days. Its words empowering me to do something.

  I just wish I could arm myself with those words when I hit the supper table tonight. I’d love to get this off my chest and just tell my father. It’s killing me.

  “Well, I think we have enough to wrap up our first meeting. We’ll meet again in two days. That’ll give you guys enough time to formulate your contest. Meanwhile, I think Marc and Ezra are kind of killing that awesome list you came up with, Nettie. Each one of you is an invaluable cog in this wheel. Don’t forget it. And don’t get upset if you don’t see results right away. Some things take time.

  “It’ll even take some time for some of the LGBTQ kids to come forward out of the woods, so to speak. We don’t know what they’re struggling with here and we don’t know what they’re struggling with at home. But if we just keep raising the trumpet and putting ourselves out there, eventually even the most fearful deer will come into the light. Trust me. There are LGBTQ kids in this school you’d never take for LGBTQ. They’re on their little islands of despair hoping and wishing for something like this club. And though they may get excited right away about its existence, they might be skittish. Fear of being outed runs deep. But all we can do is make ourselves there for them.

  “Okay. So I think that’s it. Unless anybody has any questions or anything to add,” Mr. Reason continues. Marc puts up his hand like we’re in class.

  “Yes, Marc? No need for hands up.”

  “Oops. I just wanted to say, I don’t know what it’s like…so I can’t claim to know. I’m not gay. But I’ve grown up with my dads, so I have a perspective to offer. I just wanted to say that I’m grateful for your courage, Alex. And I’m grateful for yours, Ezra. I think you’re both amazing for coming up with this. And, more importantly, for going through with it. It shows a level of courage I could only wish to achieve. So, thank you. Actually, on behalf of my fathers, who didn’t have a safe-haven like I imagine this is going to be, I thank you. And thank you for inviting me, Ezra. I’m honoured to be here in whatever way I can be to support the club.”

  “Um. No. Thank you,” I say. “Your presence is going to send out a message to those guys who think it’s not safe to be friends with us in case they catch it. I had my selfish motivations for inviting you, but I’m just glad you agreed. Clearly, I picked the right person. Thank you.”

  “Okay, then.” Mr. Reason laughs. “Before we break into Kumbaya, we should break this thing up. I don’t think Marc will have more tissues to offer. We’ll have to just wrap up to avoid a total breakdown.”

  We all laugh and soon we’re dispersing. I find myself not leaving with my best friends, but with Marc. I avoid eye contact with Alex on my way out, just in case he has developed killer laser eyes or something.

  CHAPTER 9

  You know those times when you’re having a perfect day, but you know the very next thing you do is going to take that all away from you? And there’s nothing in the world you could possibly do but move forward into that very next thing? It’s inevitable. You see that perfect day bleeding itself of the magic it contains. You seriously do.

  I’m almost home when my heart begins to beg me not to continue the journey. If only my he
art had the strength to stop my feet, to stop the inevitable. I’m on a high from the club meeting, and from walking with Marc afterward. And from sitting in a public place with him at Elixir and having everyone else seeing us together, talking and laughing. Almost as if it was okay to be with this super hot guy and be friends with him.

  He opened up to me about the rest of Gary’s story. Hell, he opened up to me about his entire life. I like being the friend who doesn’t do the talking, the one who just sits and listens and nods and agrees at all the right moments. It felt good. It felt good to be that friend with Marc. Getting to know him is making me realize just how authentically good he is, and how incredibly hard his parents must have worked together to raise such a well-rounded gentleman. It’s silly, right. That I’m thinking like this. Gentleman? But it’s true.

  But with all the wonder of the club committee meeting and my time with Marc, I sat on the knowledge that something would come along and make this only an almost perfect day. I hate being one person in one place and someone else in another.

  As I approach the driveway, I try to slip into that someone else mode. Because when I go home every day I need to leave authentic me at the end of the driveway. Authentic me is not welcome in my home. Make that house because when you can’t be yourself where you live you can’t call it home.

  Trudging up the driveway, my shoulders sag, my smile fades, whatever effeminate tell-tale signs I might be displaying are one by one obliterated from my person and locked away. I put all these things into their appropriate compartments before reaching the front door. Even my bracelet comes off my wrist and gets buried in my pocket.

  My two brothers know I’m gay. Not that I ever told them. They were too young to have built up a resistance to authenticity when they realized it. They have yet to discover most people have different masks for different situations. Whenever I think about it, I kind of hate that they’re eventually going to be sullied by this fact. Heck, it’s already happening to Malcolm. His first year of high school is kind of teaching him it’s time to start shutting down and closing off.