The room was quiet, except for Carla’s sobs. Vivian prepared to rise, to go over and comfort her sister. But the Lord stopped her. She heard the word no clearly in her spirit. She sat back…watched…and waited.
At first nobody moved. And then two ladies stood up together, and with great pomp and circumstance walked out of the hall. A couple more followed them, one murmuring about the Jezebel spirit infiltrating the church.
Then Mother Moseley, who was sitting in the front row, slowly rose to her feet. “I’ll help lift you, Sistah Carla,” she said in a loud, firm voice. She waved Carla down from the podium, and met her with a big hug. More voices rang out: “I’ll help lift you! We love you, sistah! Keep your head up, Pastor Carla!”
Several more people left the auditorium, but most of the women crowded toward the front, ready to use their love to help lift their fallen sister. Vivian’s eyes filled with tears as she witnessed the love of Christ in action, the unconditional love that His Word commanded. She understood why the spirit had held her back. He’d wanted His love to flow from the pews up, not from the pulpit down.
Into this swelling of God’s forgiveness came the melodious voice of an a cappella soloist. Her voice was as soothing as a balm in Gilead:
“Love lifted me. Love lifted me.
When nothing else could help, Love lifted me.”
Tori dabbed her eyes as she witnessed the powerful scene before her. How grateful she was that the MLM Network’s board had decided to keep Lavon as executive director over their inspirational programming division. Because he’d been right, Carla had that “it” factor. She was just what the network was looking for, their first nationally syndicated talk show host.
57
It’s a Start
Derrick and Darius sat in silence. For the past hour Darius had painfully, yet truthfully shared with his pastor the reality of who he was—a homosexual who had amazingly and unexpectedly developed a genuine love for a woman. He shared his experience from childhood on in realizing he was gay: how he’d been whipped, shunned, abused, and ridiculed because of his sexual orientation. For the first time, he shared the deep thoughts of suicide that plagued him for years, that even now sometimes whispered into his consciousness. But Bo’s love sustained him, and gradually he was learning to accept himself as his lover did. That’s why he loved Bo so much. And that’s what he told his pastor.
Derrick listened quietly, asking few questions. When he was confident Darius had emptied his heart, he spoke. “Darius, I want to thank you for manning up and being honest with me. When the member came forward voicing his concern with what he believed was a dangerous situation, both for the church and your child, I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I prayed on it for a long time before approaching you in the hospital. But since there was a child involved, I felt that I would be less than your pastor to turn a blind eye when I felt I could help steer you on to a more honest path.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t one of Shabach’s people?” Darius asked. “He’s been trying to out me for years.”
“No,” Derrick said. “It was someone in our ministry, someone, I might add, who loves you very much. He didn’t come to me with judgment, but with real concern for the future of our ministry, and your participation in it. And he was right. With your growing celebrity, especially with the VH-One nomination, and our getting ready to broadcast on the MLM Network, we had to have this conversation. I can’t have something hidden that can blindside me and this ministry. You see what just happened at Logos Word. I think they’ll recover, but they’re already experiencing financial difficulties with the sudden drop in membership and the cancelled subscriptions to their outreach ministry network.”
Darius took a deep breath. “Well, I might as well drop the real bomb then.”
“Your being gay isn’t the real bomb?”
“No, this is—I’m married to both Stacy and Bo.”
Derrick did not move for a full minute. Neither did Darius. “You’re kidding me, right?” the pastor asked finally.
Darius went on to explain the set of circumstances that led to his bigamist situation. “This situation is so messed up,” Darius moaned, tears in his eyes. “But I don’t know what to do, how to fix it.”
Derrick chose his words carefully. “My professional position,” he began slowly, “is that homosexuality is wrong. It is so stated in the Bible, and it is the position of the Christian community at large, that it is a sin.”
Darius hung his head.
“But my personal position,” Derrick went on, “is that I don’t have a hell to put you in and even if I did, I honestly don’t feel in my spirit that God is going to cast you in to the lake of fire because of something you didn’t choose.”
Darius’s eyes brightened. He could not believe that this Christian minister, this man of God, actually thought Darius could go to heaven. “Then…you’re not condemning me?” he asked in a whisper.
“I’m going to share something with you. You know my favorite uncle I lost recently, Charles Montgomery?”
Darius nodded.
“Aside from my father, he was the finest man I’ve ever met—smart, funny, wise beyond this earth—and he loved God with every fiber of his being. It was his example in my early life that led me fully onto the Christian path. I wanted to be just like him. I didn’t find out he was gay until I was in my twenties.
“When I decided to go into ministry, he was my staunchest supporter, heard all of my early sermons, paid some of my expenses. And earlier this year, as I watched them lower his body into the ground, I felt with every fiber of my being that I’d see him again on the other side…in heaven. I think you’ll be there too.”
“But why don’t you preach this, Pastor? Gay men and women are dying because of the church’s rejection. Churches are full of homosexuals. We lead praise and worship across the country every Sunday, we give our tithes, but we can’t come out. We can’t publicly be who we really are. And this has gone on for years.
“As Christians, we won’t talk about the famous homosexual men and women who worship openly but are forced to love privately, in a closet, on the down low…all because we want to stand next to our straight brothers and sisters and praise God.”
Darius wiped away tears, and waited for Derrick to speak. “You’re right,” the pastor said after a long pause. “It’s a conversation long overdue. And while I can’t tell you I’ll come out next Sunday and proclaim Homosexual Day at Kingdom Citizens I will bring this topic up at the next Total Truth Association meeting. I promise you I’ll do that. And I can’t say how you’ll be accepted by our members if you come out, but if that’s what you decide to do, you’ll have me and my wife’s support.
“Right now, you’ve got a bigger issue to deal with. You’re married to two people. You’ve got a child with one of them. Now if you asked my opinion—and you didn’t—I’d encourage you to stay with Stacy, raise your son, and let Bo be free to find love elsewhere.”
“I’m going to be in my son’s life no matter what happens,” Darius said firmly.
“I can’t tell you what to do; I can only give you my opinion. And I’ve done that. Now you’ve got to pray, search your heart, and do what you feel is right. But you’ve got to do something, Darius. I won’t toss you out because you’re gay, but I won’t let you stay if you continue living this double life with Bo and Stacy.”
“I’ll handle it, Pastor,” Darius said, rising. “And, Pastor? Thank you. Thank you for loving me, and accepting me for who I am.”
The two men hugged—one glad that he’d been able to show love and acceptance, even when it was uncomfortable; the other glad that he was receiving it, even if only privately. For both of them, it was a start.
58
Staying Alive
Darius sat in front of the duplex, warring with his decision. He’d gone back and forth a zillion times, and had taken a long walk on the beach to further delay the inevitable—choosing. But he didn’t want to put it off any longer, didn
’t want to go to bed with the matter unresolved.
Darius thought of Bo and smiled. Memories from years of togetherness played like a film across his mind: trips, parties, amazing home-cooked meals, devilish fights, raucous fun. Bo helped him be more of who he really was. He was his best friend, an ardent lover, and his number-one fan.
And then he thought of Stacy, and the son they’d just brought home. His heart flooded with love for them both. He’d never expected to truly love a female, in fact had believed it impossible. Most would consider him bisexual, but in thirty-plus years, Stacy was the one and only woman to whom he’d ever been attracted. He’d never been able to sustain an erection with Gwen, his ex-wife, which is why she’d left him. He’d been as shocked as anyone when arousal happened, and continued to happen with Stacy.
Each of his spouses brought something totally different, yet completely wonderful to his life. Which is why choosing between them was so difficult: Bo, arguably the love of his life, or Stacy, his more socially acceptable wife and the mother to his young son. Darius had been unaware one could love so deeply, so quickly, but that’s what had happened when he saw Darius, Jr.: love at first sight.
That was it, go with the deepest love. In that instant, his answer became crystal clear. Darius took a deep, long breath and got out of the car.
As he walked up to his future, the trepidation faded away and was replaced by an indescribable joy. Somehow, in that instant, he knew everything would be all right. He took out his key and slowly placed it in the lock. Before he could open the door all the way, he looked up and stared into the eyes of his tomorrow, of the person with whom he hoped to spend the rest of his life. He smiled and received a smile in return. He came in and closed the door behind him.
“Hey you,” he said softly.
“Hey, yourself.” Bo walked up and kissed him gently. “Come this way. I just made the most amazing Chilean sea bass with a bouillabaisse sauce to die for. I know you’re going to love it.”
Darius’s smile was bittersweet as he followed Bo into the kitchen. His news would probably make his lover the happiest person on the planet. On the other hand, things were going to get ugly when he broke the news to Stacy, that he was legally married to Bo and that his and her marriage would be annulled.
“Baby, I’ve got news,” he said to Bo after he’d sampled the mouth-watering bouillabaisse sauce. “Can we sit down for a moment?”
They did, and Darius shared with Bo his earlier conversation with Derrick. Bo was pleasantly surprised to hear Derrick’s personal views on homosexuality. His mood changed abruptly, however, when he learned of the pastor’s ultimatum: Bo or Stacy.
Abject fear showed in Bo’s eyes, but he remained silent. For a moment, so did Darius. “I’m staying with you,” he said finally.
Bo burst into tears. “I’m so glad I didn’t have to choose the Armani suit,” he said.
“What?” Darius pulled back, confused by Bo’s statement.
“After I killed you…that’s the suit I would have chosen for your burial.” Bo went on in mock seriousness. “Stacy, it wouldn’t have mattered what she wore, in fact I would have cut her up so tough hers would have probably been closed casket. But you…definitely the navy blue Armani.”
Darius pulled Bo into a loving embrace. “You nut…that’s why I love you.”
It was a little after nine in the morning when Darius put his key into his and Stacy’s side of the duplex.
Stacy was sitting in the living room, feeding Darius Jr. “That’s the first night you’ve spent over there since we’ve been married. He usually gets days…I get nights.”
Darius stood by the door, momentarily second-guessing his decision. The vision in front of him was picture-perfect: Stacy looking tired yet radiant in a white, satin robe, their tiny, six-pound baby suckling at her breast. Future photographs of the three of them flashed into his mind: Darius graduating from kindergarten, playing baseball, visiting Disneyland, being swung between his mom and dad.
But all too soon the vision faded. Those picture-perfect imaginings were a pipe dream. They’d never come true. They couldn’t come true. Husband to a wife, a female wife, was not who he was.
“There’s something I have to tell you, Stacy. I wish I didn’t have to tell you now, like this, especially with our son so young….”
Stacy’s heart leapt into her throat. This did not sound good. “What about our son, Darius?”
“Not about him…about us, really. And no matter what happens with us, I will always be there for my son.”
“What is it, Darius?” Stacy asked firmly.
Darius nibbled his bottom lip for a moment, his hands clammy from the sudden nervousness he felt. There was no way to say it except to say it. “We have to annul our marriage.”
Stacy laughed. “You can’t be serious. I know you love Darius Jr. too much to even think about leaving me. Leaving me would mean not seeing your son again so I know you’re not thinking some crazy shit like that.”
Darius took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. This was already hard enough without making a scene. “I’ll always have deep feelings for you,” he continued. “I’m hoping we can remain good friends as we raise our son together.”
“Hmph. That’s up to you.” Stacy placed Darius Jr. up on her shoulder and began to burp him. “As long as you’re here, we’ll raise him together. You leave me…I’ll raise him alone.”
“Our marriage isn’t legal,” Darius said, choosing not to argue visitation rights at the moment.
“What is it? Did Bo hit that booty especially good last night? Jiggle part of your brain loose?”
“Bo and I are married.”
Stacy laughed. “Whatever.”
“In November, in Canada,” Darius continued in a low, civil tone. “It was an official marriage ceremony recognized by Canadian law. The matching rings we wear are our wedding bands.”
Stacy rose from the couch and placed Darius Jr. in a basinet. She turned back to Darius, crossed her arms, and remained silent.
Darius went on, telling Stacy about his conversation with Derrick and the reason for finally telling the truth about the situation. “I was confused, didn’t know what to do. I was already married when you told me you were pregnant and I wanted to do the right thing, wanted to—will—raise my son…. I never meant to hurt you, Stacy.”
“Hurt me? Hurt me? You son of a—” Stacy picked up a vase of fresh flowers and flung it at Darius’s head. The vase clipped his shoulder and shattered against the wall behind him. Books, pillows, and a candy jar followed, before Stacy advanced with fists flailing.
“Stop, stop it, Stacy,” Darius said, working to control her violent thrashing.
Stacy was hysterical, a madwoman. She wanted to hurt Darius as bad as she was hurting right now. At six weeks, her C-section incision had barely healed. Now here came Darius making another incision—in her heart.
“I want you out, out! You’ll never see your son again!” she screamed. She raced over to the sofa table and began throwing picture after picture against the wall: pictures of her and Darius. Once she’d emptied the table of photos, she went for the DVD cabinet, X-Box, basically anything that wasn’t tied down, and wasn’t too heavy to lift.
“You think you’re going to dump me like yesterday’s garbage, nucka? Well…think again!” Dozens of CDs rolled out of their cases as the CD rack came crashing to the floor.
A banging from outside joined the interior cacophony. “Open up this door. Leave Darius alone, Stacy. Open up this door or I swear I’ll break it in!” Bo yelled.
“Oh, you want some of this?” Stacy screamed back. She ran for the door.
Darius intercepted her in a tackle that would have made any NFL coach proud.
“Owwwww!” Stacy screamed, clutching her stomach as she fell to the ground. Soon, Darius Jr. joined in, his cries an octave higher than hers.
“Go home, Bo!” Darius yelled over the incessant wailing of mother and babe.
�
�Not without you!” Bo screamed back.
“Get away from my door, punk!” Stacy shouted.
Darius Jr. cried louder.
“The baby,” Darius said softly, trying to break through Stacy’s hysteria. “We need to get the baby.” He was afraid to let her go, afraid she’d go straight for the door and Bo, who was still standing on the other side, banging furiously.
“Bo, if you don’t leave that door, I’m divorcing you too!” Darius screamed, totally exasperated.
Bo stopped knocking.
Stacy stopped wailing.
Darius Jr.’s cries turned to a whimper.
“Let me up,” Stacy said in an exhausted tone. He did, and Stacy stumbled over to pick up their son. “If you walk out that door,” she said, breathing heavily, “don’t come back. Not for your clothes, not for your furniture, anything you own in this house. If you walk out that door…you’re walking out our lives for good, me and Darius Jr.”
“Our marriage is over, Stacy. But we can be friends. We can be good parents. I don’t hate you. I love you. I just love Bo more.”
“You disgust me,” Stacy spat out. “Choosing a dick over your own flesh and blood. You and Bo deserve each other. Just remember, God don’t like ugly. You’re going to rot in hell.”
Darius left the living room and returned minutes later with a suitcase. “Good-bye, Stacy.”
Stacy followed him to the door, talking to his son. “There goes your faggot daddy, Darius Jr. He’s never going to see you again!” She screamed at Darius’s retreating back, as he walked next door to his home with Bo. “You want it to be over? Fine, it’s over. And I’m going to tell everybody why you left!”
“You won’t have to,” Darius said as he spun around angrily. “I’m going to tell them for you.”
Right then, Darius decided he would come out, admit his homosexuality. It was the twenty-first century. He was sick of hiding. He was tired of going the way of so many popular gospel artists, living one way in public and another in private. He was tired of being another Black Christian male on the down low. He was tired of living a lie.
A Preacher’s Passion Page 27
