“I’ll be there. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.” He pauses and looks at me. The tone of his voice changes like he’s about to tell me a fact that’s interesting and yet unrelated to anything we’ve been talking about. “Did you know if you’re on death row in Japan, they only tell you you’re going to be executed on the day they do it?”
I shake my head. “This is happening today, isn’t it?”
“In about an hour.” He starts in on the big breakfast.
“You always do this to me!”
“I don’t want you to spend two days worrying about it, that’s all.”
“Will I get a last meal and a blindfold?”
Porter laughs. “See, you’re all right!” He shakes his head. “It’s time. You have to start thinking about the future again. Get excited about life and university ahead. This right here is not where you’re meant to be.”
“When I go, will you still be my friend?”
He puts his arm around me and growls as he pulls me in for a hug and I feel what I think are little bits of egg and sausage landing on my head.
Getting back to the unit is effortless because my mind won’t concentrate on anything but what’s coming. I haven’t seen my parents in over three months and I don’t know what to expect. I think Porter can tell because he doesn’t leave my side, even when we get back. He phones through to the admin department and cancels an appointment so he can stay with me.
Porter gets me into the meeting room early so we’re there before my family. Mary, my support worker comes in and then Emma, the family therapist, followed by Mum and Dad. Then Isla walks in, who I wasn’t expecting to be there. They sit on the opposite side of the circle to me. Porter sits on my left and Mary to my right, so I feel protected from them.
“So let me explain what we’re doing today,” says Mary. “This isn’t strictly a therapy session, though we’re going to be following certain rules when we speak to one another which Emma will enforce. We ask everyone to be honest and respect other people’s feelings, even if those feelings are negative. Emma is here because she will be seeing you for family therapy sessions proper. Porter is here because he’s worked closely with Malachi. What we’re doing today is getting a conversation started. It’s a conversation about Malachi and it’s conversation about all of you. Porter, do you want to bring us up to date?”
“Sure,” says Porter. “Malachi is doing well. He’s been working hard and pushing to get to where he can cope with his anxieties and I think he’s getting close to the point where we feel he’ll be able to cope on the outside. Now part of what contributed to everything that happened was the situation at home and we need to discuss that, openly and honestly, so that Malachi feels comfortable enough to get home and confident enough to cope.”
“So who wants to start?” asks Mary.
I don’t want to talk at all, let alone be first.
“Why don’t you tell Malachi how it’s been for you while he’s been away?”
My mum clears her throat. “We’ve missed you, Malachi. We’ve been worried about you. We feel sad that you’ve chosen to shut us out of your life while you’ve been here.”
It’s like my mum’s done this before. She knows all the language.
“What about you, Pastor Russell?”
“Peter, please. I’ve missed Malachi as well, of course.”
Emma pipes in. “Direct what you’re saying to Malachi, please.”
Rules enforced.
My dad looks drained. “Sorry. I have missed you, Malachi and I’ve been worried about what you did to yourself. It scared me.”
Scared, that’s not like my dad. I look at my sister and raise my eyebrows but she doesn’t say a word.
“Malachi,” says Mary, “how would you like to respond to that?”
“I’m glad that you missed me and I'm not at all sorry that I made you worry. I’m angry at you for sending me to that place. I’m angry at you for not accepting that I’m gay. I’m angry at you for not taking any responsibility for what happened to me. I’m angry that you put your belief in a fictional deity above my happiness. I want you to know that I will never believe in any god.” I’m shaking telling them all this but I feel good letting it go.
Then my mum starts to cry and that feels awful.
“I think that’s enough to be going on with for the moment,” says Mary. “Peter would you like to respond.”
“I feel like you want to punish us. I can tell you we’ve been going through hell for the past three months. I take responsibility for sending you on that camp. I admit it was an awful decision and I will live the rest of my life knowing how much it has damaged you. I am very sorry and I ask for your forgiveness.”
My mum pipes in through her tears, “So do I. Please forgive us.”
This is genuine; I can see they’ve been suffering and still are. I wish I could feel glad about that. I wish I could bring myself to make their pain worse. That’s my anger talking and at the moment it has a life of its own but what I feel inside is nothing but compassion, to take away their pain, even though they were the cause of mine.
I'm crying now. My body is not obeying my mind again. My body is crying because they are hurting, not because I am. My mind is angry and is enjoying watching them suffer. Oh, I want to punish them. I want to tell them I hope there is a god, because if there is he will send them right to hell for what they’ve done to me. I've a catalogue of barbs and insults I've kept for this moment. All the things I wish I'd been able to say since I knew I was gay, since I’d become an atheist. Now it comes to it I can't do it to them.
“I want to forgive you,” I say through fits of tears. “Seeing you like this is tearing my bloody heart out but I’m so damn angry.”
Porter puts his arm around me and gets me out of the room. He holds me in his arms and tells me how well I’ve done and how strong I’ve been. It takes me a while to calm down and Porter won’t let me go back in until I’m ready. We carry on about twenty minutes later.
My parents have also stopped crying when I go back in. Isla is looking bored.
“What we need to talk about,” says Mary, “is the practical situation about Malachi returning home.”
My mum is still a little teary. “I want him home with me.”
“What you want isn't the point.” Porter’s voice is strong and serious. He speaks in a way I’ve never heard him do before. It’s not unfriendly so much as unstoppable. “What Malachi has been dealing with is a major set of life events. For better of worse, he’s not the same person as he was before. He’s changed and grown and is so much stronger and self aware. He won’t fit back into the little slot you once had for him.”
“Porter...” Mary interrupts.
“No!” Now Porter is a little louder. “This needs to be made clear and I’m the one who is best placed to say it. Malachi has been working hard to get the point where he no longer needs our help but that doesn’t mean he should have to compromise himself and what he’s achieved because you won’t accept him as he comes. That’s the work you need to do.”
I love this man so much.
Isla laughs. She’s a good two foot shorter than Porter, yet she stills manages to be able to look down at him.
“All of you,” says Porter.
“I can accept,” says my dad, “that you’ve been having feelings about other boys but I won’t give up on you and I won’t let you give up on your religion. I think if you give it time and put your faith in Christ then you can be an ordinary, normal straight man.”
Cue the anger again. “I can’t win. I can’t win because you always have to bring Jesus into it. It’s your trump card. My opinions, my feelings can’t be real because they’re against Jesus.”
Isla laughs.
I shout at her. “And what are you here for? What’s so funny?”
“It’s the way you say Jesus.” She looks at her nails.
“Malachi,” says Emma, “I don’t think that’s helpful.”
I tu
rn back to my parents. “So what are you saying – that you will never accept the possibility I’m gay? The fact that I am gay and now have a boyfriend! That you feel sorry and all responsible for sending me to that place but not for the reasons that drove you to do it? Just tell me.”
My dad replies. “I will not drop my concern for the well being of either you or your immortal soul.”
“So there you are,” I say, “you want forgiveness but you’re not prepared to change the reasons you need it. I’m a queer. I’m not Christ, Dad. If you want my forgiveness you’ll accept me for who I am. You say it scared you and you feel guilty but it's not given you any forward movement. You haven't actually thought about how I feel.”
Mary interrupts. “I think we should leave it there for today. Malachi, do you want to hug…”
But I’m up and out of the room, slamming the door behind me. I stomp back to my bedroom with Porter chasing after me. I sit on my bed and do my breathing while Porter sits on the chair.
“So,” he says, “I thought that went well.”
I shout at him as loudly as I can. “Bloody McDonalds bloody milkshake machines never bloody work!”
“Yeah but you’ll never order anything but a frappe now.”
He makes me laugh. I hate it that he can do that even when I’m angry. “I’ve got to do that again, haven’t I?”
“Oh yes. Lots and lots of that ahead of you.” He has a wide smile.
“Can’t you tell them gay people don’t need fixing? They can’t be made to be straight.”
“Unless I’ve got this completely wrong, I’m guessing that’s what Mary will be telling them at the moment.” He laughs. “Emma too.”
“I can’t go back to being their perfect boy, Porter. It will kill me. I tried to hide it. I tried to lie and hold on till I could leave. I can’t do it any more.”
“I know but give them a chance and some time and they might figure that out as well. Besides, at least they’ve got the perfect daughter.”
“She’s a bitch, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, a total bitch.”
We laugh.
Porter claps his hands. It blows away the air which surrounds us. “Anyhow, I’ve got a surprise for you. I've organised for us to go on an outing. As long as you think you can handle it?”
“Where are we going?”
“That’s a surprise but I want you know it'll be hectic but only with nice people. You must let me know if you start to feel negative and we’ll come right back. There’ll be nothing lost as we can always try to do it again. We’re going at three this afternoon. Alim and Poppy are coming too.”
So I’m nervous about going out but I’m excited about it too. I know that with Porter, Alim and Poppy around me I’ll feel very safe and secure. They’re tied up in lessons after lunch so I do some reading and about half an hour before, I get ready to go out.
When we meet up ready to go, Alim is wearing his favourite dress, all purple and sparkly, and high heels and is fully made up – his hair like a lion’s mane.
We go out through the main doors and get into Porter’s car – a huge green car called a Zodiac, which looks very old and very American. We head into the city. I have no idea where we’re going. I recognise Baker Street then nothing else till we see Eros and Piccadilly Circus. Porter parks in an NCP and just about manages to squeeze the car into a space but we have to get out first.
“I think I know where we’re going,” says Alim.
“Poppy,” says Porter, “take care of Malachi.”
Poppy holds my hand and we follow Porter and Alim as they march off. The streets here are narrow and, even in the day, a little dark and uncomfortable for me but something about having Porter here keeps me feeling safe. We turn a corner and it opens up. Then we walk past a church and turn into a very busy street.
Alim stops in his tracks. “This is it. Old Compton Street – the gay capital of the UK.”
Even at that point I don’t know what he means but as we walk down the street I soon begin to get an idea. Gay couples, lesbian couples walk down the street hand in hand. They sit outside cafes and kiss like they don’t have a care in the world. I never knew a place like this existed.
We stop at a café and Alim wants to sit outside but all the chairs are taken so we get drinks and go downstairs to a basement room which is filled with old sofas. On the tables are gay magazines with very graphic pictures. Alim grabs a handful.
Porter tells him to put them back down. “I’ll buy you a copy of Attitude if you want but I can’t let you take those back to the unit.”
The basement is also full of people I assume to be gay. There’s something about being here that feels so right – like it’s the place I should be all the time, hanging out with my friends. “So this is what living feels like?”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Porter looks so serious. “You remember this, Malachi. You remember and hold onto this feeling. Because even when things are awful for you there’s still life to be lived and friends to love and look after. Nobody knows how much time they have left – make sure you have no regrets. Make a promise to yourself that you’ll enjoy every minute. Promise me you’ll never let fear get in the way living your life. That goes for all three of you.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
Alim and Poppy promise too.
We sit there for under and hour when Porter gets a text on his phone and we have to leave. We carry on walking down Old Compton Street then over the main road and through Leicester Square. We go into a posh burger restaurant where Sam, Catherine, Jacob and Warren are waiting for us. I run over to them and give them each a hug.
“This was Sam’s idea,” says Porter.
“I’m glad you could sort it out,” says Sam.
Then there’s a tap on my shoulder and I jump. I turn around to see Noah standing there. He’s wearing new jeans and a tight blue velvet t-shirt. His hair is jelled back and spiked and his skin looks so fresh and vital. So different from how I last saw him, how I’ve ever seen him. I grab him and we kiss and we don’t stop.
“Get a room!” says Alim.
“Jealous!” says Poppy.
“Only because Porter won’t give me any.”
We pull apart. I stare at him. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
We all sit down round the table and the waitress comes over right away to take our orders.
“When did you get here?” I’ve never been so happy.
Noah holds my hand. “Yesterday morning. It’s been brilliant. My support worker realised I wasn’t going to resolve things at home and, anyway, it was too dangerous for me to go back. She thought that at least staying with Sam and Catherine would be better than the home. They came and got me yesterday. We went shopping for clothes as soon as we got back. It’s been non stop.”
I am ever so jealous and Noah can obviously tell.
He frowns. “Don’t look like that. It’s going to be no different for you when you move in! When will you get out?”
“I don’t know. I think tonight is some kind of test.”
“It’s Porter,” says Alim. “Everything’s a test.”
Porter ignores his comment. “Tonight’s not a test, it’s a milestone – for all three of you.”
“I think I’m only a couple of weeks away.” I look at Porter and he nods. “I’m not sure where I’ll be living. We’re trying to work out things with my parents.”
“You’re still moving in when you’re sixteen though, right?”
“Just try and stop me.”
“And I’ll get to see you?”
“Just try and let them stop me.”
So, the burgers, about the most amazing I’ve ever had and a proper chocolate milkshake made with malt and ice cream. We have huge ice cream sundaes for dessert. The conversation doesn’t stop the whole way through the meal. I can’t remember ever having such a great time.
We leave the restaurant and walk back down Old Compton Street. I’m hand in hand with
Noah. We get sweet looks from almost everyone we pass. When we get to the car park I find out we’re parked on different floors. I grab hold of Noah again and we kiss for a few minutes. Warren, Alim and Catherine poke fun at us but nothing is going to stop this moment.
Chapter Twenty Four
Two days later I have the next session with my family, though Isla isn’t there this time. We focus on what we would expect from each other when living together and they won’t move on religion and church going or me dating Noah (even when I say I’ll only see him on weekends). Even with the small demands like wanting my room to be my own space where I can have things that I want and do the things I want to do – and that there be rules for knocking before entering, they only cave on the last one. I get frustrated and angry again but I control it until we are outside when Porter offers his opinion:
“You’re the one who's prepared to compromise here and it’s clear for everyone to see. I think we’re going to have to start looking for some accommodation for you away from your parents. I think Mary believes that too but you can’t run away from them, Malachi. You have to keep talking to them.”
Then, two days later when I head for breakfast it feels like there’s something going on. There’s a hush over the staff. Even Evelyn, the cook who runs the canteen, has got nothing to say when she hands us our toast racks and she always has something to say, even if it’s just a joke or a kind word.
Poppy arrives and sits next to me. “What’s going on?”
“Must be something dreadful. Did someone kill themselves?”
No one is there to tell us anything. The staff, all apart from Evelyn, are absent. Five minutes go by, then ten. Alim doesn’t turn up for breakfast and I start to get worried.
Poppy is agitated. “Do you think something’s happened to him?”
We leave our breakfast and run to his room. It’s locked and empty on the inside.
“Could he be on the acute ward?” My mind is scrambling.
“I don’t know. He must be.”
We look through the doors to the acute ward but there’s nothing to be seen. At long last a parliament of staff come through the main doors into the ward, Porter among them. None of them are looking happy. Porter puts on a fake smile as soon as he sees us.
The Crucifixion and Resurrection of Malachi the Queer Page 25
