School Was Almost Out
It was early June, the best
of summer closing in.
Surely time and lack
of proximity between
attackers and victim
would slow their drive
and cushion his pain.
Winter drizzle and spring
rain had left the hills green
beneath a warming crown
of sun. Creeks and lakes
teemed with hungry trout.
I’d take Luke fishing, just
like when we were little.
I’d make an effort to do that, even
though I was concentrating
most of my energy on Hayden.
But I didn’t mind splitting
my attention and giving a little
to my brother. Who knew
we’d never go fishing again?
I Shake Off
The memory, bring myself firmly
back into the present, and as I
straighten Luke’s bed, think about
how I’ve lately been splitting
my attention between Hayden and
Alexa. Why does Lex have to be
so much fun? Why can’t Hayden
be more fun, more like she used
to be? When did she get so serious?
I think it was even before this Judah
person became such a big presence
in her life. I’m really starting to hate
that guy. Can’t wait to meet him.
That is, if he wants to meet me.
Judah the Great and Powerful
“Absolutely” wants me to come
to a youth ministry meeting, so I can
“understand the power of God,
when many gather in his presence.”
Judah’s so anxious to impress, in fact,
that it’s three weeks before it can happen.
Apparently, he had some seminar
he had to attend back east, followed
by a visit to his parents. It’s a strange,
liquidy time—literally and figuratively.
The sun has disappeared again behind
a droopy, gray blanket, and a colorless
shroud has cloaked everyone’s mood.
Mom returned from her sister’s long
enough to pack more of her things.
Dad doesn’t give a damn about that,
or anything but his latest basketball
trophy and new/old girlfriend, not
sure in which order. It was weird,
but for the minuscule time frame Mom
and Dad inhabited the same room,
rather than two people there, it felt
like there were none, as if each
negated the other’s presence.
I suppose at some point they’ll
have to talk, if only to discuss who
gets what and who lives where,
because it’s obvious divorce is imminent.
I’m so used to hearing them argue
that the mutual silence was scary as hell.
Hayden is in a funk, and I’m almost
positive it’s because of Judah’s absence.
I’ve done everything I can think of
to cheer her up, from rubbing her feet
to suffering chick flicks to promising
something special for Valentine’s Day,
with only short-lived success. But
when I ask what’s wrong, she answers
with an inarticulate, “Nothing.” I leave
it there. What else can I do? My instinct
is to run to Alexa, dump everything
on her. But I can’t. Not fair to her.
Not fair to Hayden. For her part,
Lex has kept her word not to rupture
the fragile shell I’m tiptoeing across.
She smiles and says hi if we pass in
the halls, but nothing more, and her
smile is the saddest I’ve ever seen.
Arbitrarily
The day I finally get to witness
a youth ministry meeting happens
to be Friday the thirteenth. Something
portentous about that, I think.
Everyone takes their lunch, but I
seem to have no appetite, other
than for a good debate with the One
and Only Judah. His return has,
in fact, bolstered Hayden’s mood,
and that makes my own temper
prickly. We walk hand in hand until
we reach the media center, where
she shakes me off like a spider.
Prickly becomes razor sharp.
“Does Leviticus forbid holding
hands? Or do I embarrass you?”
Her sigh is heavy. It’s just not
respectful to the Lord, you know?
“Are you really worried about
what God thinks? Or is it Judah
who might be offended by us
showing a small sign of affection?”
She huffs, but offers no other denial
and I follow her into the library
meeting room, where maybe
twenty kids have gathered. Some
I don’t know. Too many I do, and
if anything should offend God,
it’s their presence. Hypocrites. Judah
notices Hayden, comes to greet us.
He shakes my hand, firming his grip
as if to prove a point. You must
be Matthew. Good name. His eyes
are aquamarine—blue, but barely—
and they study me earnestly, seeking
signs of weakness is my best guess.
Thanks for joining us. Let’s get
started. Our time together is short.
He goes to the front and everyone
nods their heads for the opening
prayer. I sit in back, observing, and
it’s soon obvious that motives
for attending this group vary.
The Female-to-Male Ratio
Is three to one,
and most of the girls
seem as enamored
with Judah the Charming
as Hayden is. Honestly,
his voice is rich and
his patterned speech
is almost hypnotic.
Brainwashing was his calling.
Barbara Rossi fidgets,
but that girl is pure ADHD.
Jocelyn scribbles
on a small piece of paper
balanced on her leg.
Taking notes, or
preparing to pass one?
About half the guys
are under the preacher’s spell.
The others, including
my no-longer-good friend Doug,
have obvious ulterior motives—
the girls, whom they study
like scientific specimens,
the kind you drool over.
Prayer over, there’s a quick
praise song, then Judah introduces
Matthew 5, otherwise known
as the Beatitudes.
In his well-practiced lilt:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger
and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God . . .”
There’s more, but I quit
listening there, bemused
by the way those assembled
here claim to be disciples
&nbs
p; and yet have no idea
what their Jesus was trying to say.
I Sit Listening
To Saint Judah explain it to them,
half in awe of his charisma,
half pissed off at his ridiculous
spin. My expression must
give me away, because he
says, You look confused,
Matthew. Do you have a question?
“First, it’s Matt. And second,
yeah. Well, no. It’s more of
an observation. You’re talking
about mercy. Did you know
that a few of these people right
here in this room were among
those whose unmerciful bullying
drove my little brother to suicide?”
The room hushes as I level
my gaze toward Doug, who looks
away, then at Jocelyn, who doesn’t.
Judah considers just how to answer.
I’m sorry about your brother,
Matt, but you can’t rightly
blame anyone else for his decision.
Luke was weak, and—
Boom! “Excuse me, but what
would you know about Luke?
You weren’t there to see the way
these hearts-overflowing-love
Christians brutalized him.
Luke took it as long as he could.”
Suicide is the ultimate weakness
of the mind, he argues. Homosexual
behavior is weakness of the flesh,
and a sin in the eyes of God.
The room buzzes again, and heads
nod agreement. I steady my voice.
“There was no ‘behavior,’ dude.
Luke never got that chance. There
was only the way he was born.
When a baby’s born, is that a sin?”
Of course not.
“When a baby’s born straight?”
Don’t be ridiculous.
“So how can it be a sin to be born gay?”
That Quiets Him
But not for long.
Most Christians believe
homosexuality is a choice.
“Most scientists say you’re wrong,
and anyway, who are you to speak
for ‘most’ Christians? There are
plenty with open minds, and
even more who don’t think
it’s their place to judge.”
We’re—I’m—not judging
anyone. Like God, I love
all sinners but hate the sin . . .
“Pulled straight from The Big
Book of Evangelical Truisms.
The seminary should teach
how to avoid clichés. Well, let
me tell you something about
my brother. Luke was the most
pure-in-heart person ever put
on this earth, so if there was
a God whose word was sincere,
he and Luke would be partying
down right now.”
There’s a Big Addendum
I’d love to insert
in this lopsided
conversation.
But if I did mention
how I’m pretty damn
sure Judah the Holy
has the hots for my girl,
said girl would for sure
disown me completely.
Already she’s staring
at me, disbelief in her eyes,
and not a small amount
of anger. I back quickly
away from the black-hearted
youth minister theme.
Judah backpedals, too.
Please don’t think we’re
unforgiving here, Matthew,
and if I seemed judgmental,
I apologize. It’s just, I try to live
by the tenets of my faith, and
adhere to the word of God.
The Bell Rings
Partially obscuring my reply,
but I’m pretty sure Judah hears
it. “You should totally give
that a try. Blessed are the meek,
after all.” You blowhard prick.
I don’t wait for Hayden, who
I’m sure wants to stay after
and apologize for her bad taste
in boys. Tomorrow is Valentine’s
Day. I’ll probably spend it alone.
I’m almost to class when footsteps
pound up behind me. I turn, sure
it’s Hayden, hungry to argue, or
maybe Marshall, with Presidents’
Day weekend party plans. But no.
Unbelievably, it’s Jocelyn. Did
you really have to embarrass her
like that? she snarls. Oh, and by
the way, Hayden agrees with
Judah about the gay sex thing.
“Y’all have interesting conversations,
but as I mentioned, there was no
sex involved, only self-awareness.”
Whatever. Thinking about BJs
is as good as giving them. Oh,
here’s another piece of information
you should know. The only reason
Hayden’s still with you is because
of what Luke did. She was going
to break up with you, but afterward,
she couldn’t. She felt sorry for you.
She. Still. Does. Each word is a slap,
and I’d really like to return every
one of them with a nonverbal,
totally physical, in-kind smack.
But what would that get me? Ten
seconds of pleasure, followed by
a little time in lockup, which would
only make her even happier. “I have
no clue why hurting me brings you
such pleasure. Probably because not
much else does, especially not your
Big Guy in the Sky, who I seriously
doubt you believe in yourself.
I know what you did, Jocelyn,
and if there’s a hell, I’ll see you there.”
I Leave Her
Standing there, stuttering.
What are you talking about?
I never did anything.
Come back here!
“Fuck off!” I call back
over my shoulder, amend,
“Fuck off and repent!”
Freaking bitch thinks
I don’t know the role
she played in the smear
campaign against Luke?
It was Vince who first listened
in on a private conversation
between Luke and me, then
shared that information
with Doug, who passed it on.
But when Jocelyn heard,
she felt compelled to tell
her brother. Cal is also
a churchgoing sort—why
wasn’t he at that meeting?
I would have loved to take
him on, too. To have accused
him right there in front
all those holier-than-thou
fakers of masterminding
the plan to drive Luke to suicide.
Okay, maybe that wasn’t the goal,
but that was the end result.
I really did think things
had to get better once school
ended, but June was a goddamn
nightmare, especially after
someone posted those pics.
Couldn’t prove who—not like
they bragged—but I knew
who was behind it.
Martha keeps telling me
that forgiveness is the path
to contentment, but some people
don’t deserve forgiveness.
I think I’ve just added Judah
the Sin Hater to that list.
I Fake My Way
; Through my afternoon classes.
Sit in the far back, pretending
to listen, when my mind whirls
Jocelyn’s words like fruit in a blender.
Hayden agrees. Hayden feels sorry.
The only reason Hayden’s still with
you. And my favorite: Thinking about
BJs is as good as giving them.
She can’t be right about Hayden
wanting to break up with me,
can she? We’d had a few blowups,
but nothing major, and after Luke . . .
Things did get better. I’m not sure
how I would have survived the pain
without her. She propped me up
at the funeral. Talked me through
the depression, the immense guilt
I assigned myself. Now I hear Judah
You can’t rightly blame anyone else.
Suicide . . . weakness . . . homosexual behavior . . .
How long has Hayden been confiding
secrets to Judah? Was he her confessor
before what happened? Did he have
anything to do with her wanting to
break up with me? Is she ready to do
that now? Because I won’t let her.
I sneak my cell from my pocket, text
carefully, under the desk, so as not to be
detected using contraband technology
in class: SORRY IF I EMBARRASSED YOU
TODAY. FORGIVE MY BOORISH BEHAVIOR?
CAN I SEE YOU TONIGHT? WE NEED TO TALK.
Her return text comes late in the day.
AREN’T YOU SICK OF ASKING FOR
FORGIVENESS? WE DO NEED TO TALK.
BUT NOT TONIGHT. GOING OUT WITH
MY PARENTS FOR MOM’S BIRTHDAY.
CALL ME TOMORROW. Ominous.
Tonight, It’s My Own Bed
Where sleep eludes me,
dipping in close to tease,
ducking just out of reach.
It’s a hard-rhythmed dance,
syncopated with words.
H words:
Hungry
Heart
Heaven
Hayden Hayden Hayden
S words:
Sin
Sinner
Sorry
Suicide Suicide Suicide
M words:
Mercy
Merciful
Meek
Mourn Mourn Mourn
B words:
Blessed
BJ
Breakup
Blame Blame Blame
The repetitions are the beat
of a telltale heart.
The Harder I Reach
For sleep, the more frantic
the drumming becomes.
Snippets of past dialogues
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