The Crucifixion and Resurrection of Malachi the Queer

by Damian Jay Clay

  “You can settle in tonight,” says Porter. “Let’s go get lunch – I could eat a horse.”

  We go the dining room which has stopped serving but Porter had the good thought to get two meals set aside for us. It’s soup and sandwiches but I’m ravenous. Neither of us talk until we’ve finished our first sandwich. By that time we’re by ourselves in the canteen.

  “Did you want to talk about earlier?” asks Porter.

  “I’m not sure what to say. I’m still embarrassed.” Does it make a difference that what I feel about things is something that happens to a lot of other people who’ve gone through it? Yes, it does but it doesn’t take the shame away.

  Porter digs at the bowl of soup with his spoon and eyes it suspiciously. He pokes at a piece of carrot which is floating at the top and seems to be trying to make it stay submerged. “That’s understandable. Talking about sex makes a lot of people uncomfortable and I know you’re dealing with a lot of hard to understand feelings but let me ask you something, what food don’t you like? Other than this soup.”

  I laugh. “Raw tomatoes.”

  “If I held a gun to your head and made you eat raw tomatoes, would you feel guilty if it turned out you enjoyed eating them?”

  “That analogy doesn’t work.” I don't know why. It doesn't seem to make sense.

  “It works perfectly. Sex is something that’s meant to be enjoyable and give you physical pleasure. It’s meant to turn you on, that’s a part of the whole sex deal. Just because in retrospect you find one aspect of what happened sexually exciting, it doesn’t make you responsible for it. It doesn’t make you a weirdo. I’d go as far to say that it makes you human.” He tastes the soup and drops the spoon back into the bowl. “I hate it when they don’t serve chips.”

  I try to think of something to argue with but he has me. “That makes sense.”

  “Was your second wish to not feel ashamed?”

  I nod.

  “You need to intellectualise everything, don’t you?”

  “I need to understand it.”

  “Why?” he asks.

  “It makes me feel safer. More in control. I don’t understand violence. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Maybe if I knew more there might have been a way to stop everything that happened to me.”

  “I found out about something about you today.” He pushes the soup away to the centre of the table like he’s trying to deactivate a landmine. Then he picks up his other sandwich.

  “That you secretly fancy me?” Now I’m talking without thinking.

  “You are one cheeky little git, aren’t you?”

  I laugh.

  “No, you didn’t tell me you were an autodidact. Or that you have an unusually retentive memory.”

  “It didn’t seem important.”

  He takes a bite and talks with his mouth full again. “You have seventeen GCSEs and three A-Levels and it’s not one of the first things you tell people?”

  “I don't have the A-levels yet. How did you find that out?”

  “Well now, that brings us to something we’ve got to discuss. Your parents came in yesterday and got grilled by your treatment team.” He winces.

  “Grilled?”

  “I’m not supposed to tell you this. They came in to see how you were but because of your situation we had to subject them to an assessment. Remember the long chat you had with Doctor Black on your first day? They had to go through pretty much the same thing. Well, Mary grilled them so I’m told and Dr Black was there too. Mary was fuming when she came out, so were your mum and dad. So I’d say they were more deep fried than grilled, if I’m honest.”

  “My parents will do that to people.”

  “They gave us a letter for you to read.” Porter reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded letter, no envelope.

  “Did you read it?”

  “I did. Sorry, I had to – it’s policy. I had to make an assessment on if it was likely to upset you.”

  “Does it mention Jesus?”

  “A few times, yeah.”

  “Give it to me.”

  He hands over the letter and I rip it to pieces. “They want to see me, don’t they?”

  “They do but it’s entirely up to you. You have control, Malachi. You, not them.” He nods reassuringly.

  “Then, no, I don’t want to see them. Not yet.”

  “Do you blame them for what happened to you?”

  “Yes, partially. They sent me to that place. they won’t accept I’m gay. They’ll never accept I don’t believe in their god. Then there’s a problem with the attacks and by the nature of what caused them I don’t think they’ll ever be able to help me with them like Sam and Catherine did.”

  “Are you angry at your parents?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  Porter smiles. “That’s good. That’s very good – a good place to start.”

  I didn’t expect him to say that.

  He drums the table. “Listen up now. You’ve got to promise me that you’ll be honest with all the therapists, nurses and doctors here. If you’re having trouble saying something or you’d rather tell me, that’s fine but be honest. Do you promise?”

  I’ve already told him the worst. “I promise.”

  “We’re not in term time so there’s no school as such but there’s activities going on and I want you to join in with all of them, okay?”

  “Yeah I will.”

  Then he tells me the rules of the place. Nothing I didn’t expect, though we’re not allowed to have sexual relationships with one another and we’re not allowed in other people’s bedrooms. I’m only allowed supervised visits for the moment. I only get checked on once an hour and I can have a mobile phone and make calls.

  He pulls my mobile out of his pocket and hands it to me. “This came with your stuff. I charged it up for you. Isn’t there someone you want to call?”

  I take a swig of my drink and dial.

  “Hello. Hello? Sam, it’s me.”

  Porter takes me into the day room. Inside there are twelve other residents. There are two young boys, twelve or thirteen at the most, playing a racing game on a PlayStation. There are two groups of girls absorbed in their own sets.

  At the side of the room is a black girl, about sixteen, in skinny jeans and a green school sweater, talking to a thin Asian boy who looks older than me, wearing white hot pants and a pink crop top. Both of them have handbags sitting next to them.

  Porter walks me over to these last two. “Alim, what are you wearing?”

  “Don’t pass your judgements on me you big sexy man.” Alim is poised like a queen on a throne and flicks his wrist in dismissal. “It’s wash day.”

  I look up at Porter and try to convey with my face – you’re not going to leave me with him, are you?

  “This is Malachi.” says Porter. “I want you two to look after him.”

  The girl smiles at me and raises her hand. “Hi I’m Poppy.”

  “Come and join us,” says Alim, “Poppy is about to do my nails.”

  Porter gives me a hug. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  He goes and I pull out a chair and sit facing them. Poppy picks up a manicure set and gets to work on Alim’s long finger nails.

  “So another lost gay soul enters the houses of healing.” He looks at me with a serious face. I’m not sure if he’s going to like me or not. I have never met anyone so open with their sexuality before. He’s scary.

  “How did you know I was gay?”

  “Darling, all the boys in here are gay. Why else do you think they’d be here?”

  “That’s not true,” says Poppy, “those two over there are straight but he does like to exaggerate.”

  “Anyway,” says Alim, “I saw the way you looked at Porter.”

  I blush.

  “That’s how he gets you, you know? He makes you fall head over heels in love with him and then the next thing you know you’re blubbing about how your daddy never loved you.” He looks into the air. “Ah, Porter – the
one shag I so desperately want that I know I’ll never have.”

  I laugh.

  He smiles at me. “You are a cute little thing, aren’t you. Shame you’re thirty years too young and at least a hundred pounds too light for me.”

  “I’ll never get over it.” I smile.

  “No,” he says, “I suspect you never will. What are you in for?”

  I’m not sure why but I didn’t expect him to ask me that. “PTSD.”

  “You don’t get twenty four hour watch on the acute ward with Porter for PTSD.”

  “I tried to, you know…”

  “Kill yourself.” Alim completes my sentence. “There’s no need to be coy with us, dear.”

  “What about you two?”

  “I self harm,” says Poppy, “and I’ve got OCD.”

  “I’m here in hiding,” says Alim, “there’s a fatwa on me.”

  “You’re such a liar,” says Poppy. “He jumped in front of a car. Where are you from?”

  “Sudbury.”

  “Oh, in Suffolk?”

  Alim groans. “Can’t you tell by his accent he’s a North West London queen? He’s down the road from me. I’m Wembley.”

  “I’m from Shepherds Bush,” says Poppy.

  “So, Malachi, tell me, what are you favourite three gay films, in reverse order.”

  “What? I don’t think I’ve seen any.”

  “Allah have mercy! He’s a virgin!”

  “You must have?” says Poppy. “At least some musicals?”

  “Rent, Beautiful Thing, Wilde?” Alim seems incredulous.

  I shake my head.

  He brings his free hand to his forehead. “Oh it’s worse than I thought. Very well then, answer my questions. Have you ever worn a dress?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like to?”

  “I don’t know”

  “Stolen a copy of Gay Times?”

  “No.”

  “Hung out on Old Compton Street?”

  “No.”

  “Have you heard of Old Compton Street?”

  “No.”

  “Snuck into a gay bar?”

  “No.”

  “Danced to YMCA?”

  “No.”

  “Worn make up?”

  “No.”

  “Picked up a guy in a public toilet?”

  “Eww,” says Poppy, “that’s horrible.”

  “Definitely not.” I say.

  “We’ll have to get your started then,” says Alim. “After dinner. Movie night. I’ll ask Porter to set it up.”

  “Can I come?” asks Poppy.

  “Yes, hags are allowed.” He turns to me. “And she’s mine. I don’t like to share hags.”

  “I’ll bring coke and chocolate,” says Poppy.

  Soon after we go into the activities room for a street dance lesson. I feel so awkward and uncomfortable at the idea – it reminds me of the dances at school. I sit in a chair at the side but Alim drags me up and makes me dance. To be honest, the embarrassment doesn’t go away, even when it catches up to me that I’m having a good time.

  Then there’s another hour in the common room before dinner so I sit with Poppy and Alim again. We sit together at dinner as well, which is pizza, salad and chips. Salad and chips – I know it's low culture but you smother the chips in black pepper and eat them with the salad and mayonnaise – there's nothing like it.

  Porter comes in and argues with Evelyn that he needs more as she short changed him at lunch. He joins us with two plates in his hands.

  He asks how I’m doing but other than that and Alim asking if we can use a conference room for a film, it’s all small talk.

  After dinner Alim goes and gets his folder of DVDs and as promised Poppy brings in refreshments. I’m a little bit nervous waiting for them. What if I don’t like the film? Will Alim think less of me? Will it destroy my gay cred? I know I have none of that. They come back in and Alim pulls a DVD out of this case.

  “Rent,” he says, “a classic!”

  From the moment the film starts and the music kicks in I am enthralled. Then we see the gay characters meet and hold hands and I am in heaven. The songs are so amazing. I’ve never watched musicals before in my life and I can’t believe what I’ve been missing. Then halfway through the second act all three of us are in tears but the end of the film builds and builds and at the end I say. “Wow.”

  Then as the end credits roll the three of us form into a group hug. I don’t think any of us initiated it, it just happens.

  “I might have HIV.” It just comes out.

  Neither of them say a word. They hold onto me.

  Alim holds my hand and sings one of the songs as we skip down the corridor back to the bedrooms. Poppy laughs. I try to sing too and mumble the words I don’t remember. Alim knows them off by heart.

  We arrive at my door and they both hug me goodnight.

  I go in, but Alim holds the door back. He reaches into his handbag and pulls something out, then writes something on my door.

  “Night,” he blows me a kiss.

  The door slams shut and I see what he’s written in red lipstick:

  H.O.P.E.

  HOLD ON – PAIN ENDS

  Chapter Twenty Two

  When I wake up the sun is shining through the curtains onto my face. I look around my room and I feel something has changed. It’s not that I’m happy it’s that maybe I think I could be happy here.

  I look at the writing on the door and it makes me want to cry. Did I or did I not make two amazing friends yesterday? Why could I never do that at school? I have no idea.

  My thoughts turn to Noah, to Jacob, to Sam, Catherine and Warren and I start to feel a little guilty about what I’ve done. I pick up my phone and find Noah’s number. My thumb hovers over the call button and I can’t bring myself to press it. I don’t know what’s holding me back. I think it’s more shame. Noah’s going to ask me why I did it and I’m not ready to tell him.

  The door opens for my hourly check. “Medicine time in twenty minutes. You better get up.”

  I rush to get ready so I can see Alim and Poppy at breakfast. By the time I’m there they are already at the table and they both wave at me. I bring my mobile with me and get their numbers so I can text them at night if I want to. “Can we watch another film tonight?”

  “Of course,” says Alim. “We must keep up with your education.”

  “Rent was amazing. I have to get a copy.”

  Half way through breakfast Porter joins us with his six slices of Marmite on toast. “How was the film last night?”

  “Rent!” I put my hands by my head and make stars with them. “Have you seen it? It’s amazing!”

  “A few times.” He smiles. “I saw it on Broadway with the original cast.”

  “You didn’t!” Alim’s mouth hangs open.

  “I’ve seen them all,” says Porter. “Love the musicals.”

  After breakfast I have another appointment with Dr Black and we talk about how I’m feeling and I tell him I’m happy here. I feel I'm out of harm's way.

  He asks me about fearing going outside, so I know Porter has spoken to him. I’m not stupid, I know he has to. He tells me I have to come off my anxiety medication in a few days because there’s a danger of addiction but if I need extra help I only have to ask for it.

  He tells me to go get a drink and wait in the common room for Porter.

  I’m there for twenty minutes when Porter comes to get me and takes me to one of the consultation rooms.

  “How did it go with Dr Black?”

  “He asked me about the going outside thing.”

  “Good, because that’s what we’re going to try and do.”

  “Shit.”

  “I’m not going to let things get out of control and I’m not going to push you too far.”

  “I trust you.” I do trust him more than anyone.

  “We’re going to try a few things. First I want you to think about a scale from nought to ten. Nough
t would mean you’re feeling no anxiety whatsoever. Two would mean you were a little bit upset. All the way up to five which would be the most you could handle without having to do something about it. Six would mean you had to get back inside. Seven would mean you’re starting to freak out. Nine is when it would be unbearable and ten would mean you feel like you’re going to breakdown and lose control.”

  “I get it.” Nought to ten would have done.

  “So sitting here talking to me now, where are you?”

  “Two, a little worried about what we’re going to do.”

  “That’s understandable. But if you were sitting here normally what would it be?”

  “Nought.”

  He stands up. “That’s good. Now I want you to tell me when the number changes. Follow me.”

  We get up and he leads me into the quad. This is the place where people come to smoke. It’s a square of grass with some benches. Even though there’s no roof, there are walls all around it and it doesn’t feel like outside.

  “Any change?”

  “No. But I don’t think of this as outside.”

  So then we go through the main door from the unit, past the staff room and the admin areas, then through more doors to the reception area where double sliding doors separate us from the outside world.

  We’re close to the street. Outside, cars drive past and people walk by.

  Porter stands close to me. “So standing by the doors. How does it feel?”

  “A four.”

  He walks forward and the doors open. I can hear the traffic now.

  “Five.”

  “That’s good. Do you want to hold my hand?” He reaches out for me.

  I grab his hand like a lifeline. I know what’s waiting out there for me. I see Daniel standing out by the road waving at me. He skips around in his hospital gown.

  “What are you looking at?” Porter doesn’t take his eyes off of me.

  “It’s Daniel, my brother.”

  “What’s he doing?”