a slight twinge. But then, I was watching for it, so maybe I imagined it. “There’s not much difference between the two at this stage. Your father tells me you haven’t yet engaged in fornication, so we’re catching things early. Confusion can be cleared more easily if sin has not yet occurred.” When I didn’t reply to his last volley, he said, “Is what your father told me correct? You haven’t yet fornicated?”
I ground my teeth. He could mean almost anything. “I’m not sure I know what you’re asking me. What do you mean by fornicated?”
“Fornication, strictly speaking, is sex outside of marriage. For our purposes, it indicates sexual intercourse that has not been blessed by God.”
“If I had fornicated with a girl, would that be okay?”
“Of course not, as you know very well. You’re no stranger to God’s laws. But because you’re saying that you’re homosexual, the most likely fornication would have been with another boy, or a man. Has that happened?”
I took a breath and tried to think while I let it out. He was being very patient, which meant I wasn’t likely to get out of this quickly. And I didn’t. I won’t go into all the back and forth with scriptural references, and me clenching my hands into fists to stop myself from trying to argue with him, because arguing would mean making this take even longer. It’s enough to say that he got more out of me than my dad had managed.
“There’s a program that’s designed for teenagers with problems. It’s called Straight to God. Have you heard of it?”
Oh God. Oh God. Please stop him. Please let the heavens open and—well, the guy doesn’t have to die or anything, but can’t you stop him from saying any more?
“They’re associated with our church only loosely, but they hold similar views when it comes to the importance of right behavior and how to reinforce it in troubled youth. The program can be especially helpful for boys like you, who are already trying their best to abide by God’s laws in every other respect. I’m going to recommend that you spend some time there this summer, Taylor.”
Trying to keep my voice calm, I asked, “So what do you expect them to do? Pray part of who I am out of me?”
“The confusion I mentioned earlier is causing you to think you’re something you’re not. Homosexuality is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord, and there’s no way he would have made you that way. Satan is responsible for this, but you are responsible for casting him out. Straight to God will help you do that.”
“Wait. So you’re telling me God let Satan plant something in me that God didn’t want there? I thought God was all-powerful. Is Satan stronger? Is that what you’re saying?” I knew this would get me nowhere, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“Taylor, God gave man free will. Something in your heart became weakened, perhaps by the godless influences around us all the time, and Satan took advantage of that. He tempted you, and through your free will you accepted what he offered. Because this can happen only when you’re weak, you need the power of specialists to help you. Straight to God is where you will find them. It’s where you will find the path back from sin.” He handed me a pamphlet, and I took it with a shaky hand.
My head felt like it was going to explode. Christ! Am I really this helpless? Is there really nothing I can do? My only hope was that my folks wouldn’t agree. And that’s where my next prayer went, since the heavens-opening idea had been rejected.
During dinner that night I said absolutely nothing. I didn’t trust myself. But afterward Dad dragged me into the living room. To talk about what he was going to do to me. Or, what Straight to God was going to do.
“Your mother and I have decided to take Reverend Douglas’s recommendation, Taylor. This Saturday, we will all drive up to look at the place and enroll you, and a week after that you’ll start the program.”
I’d had enough of helplessness. I exploded. “You’ve got to be kidding! You’re out of your mind! I won’t go. You can’t make me. And you can’t make me straight, you know.”
“You will go. And I don’t have to make you straight, because you aren’t crooked. What you need is God’s help so you can understand that you’re confused.”
Confused was one thing I was not. “That’s bullshit!”
“Taylor!”
“I mean it, Dad. That’s crap. I know exactly who I am.”
“You don’t know anything. You’re still a child.” I opened my mouth to yell again, but he took a step toward me. “Don’t you talk back to me or this will be worse. How do you think you’d enjoy attending a military academy?” I stepped back, dumbstruck. WTF? “So you have a choice to make, young man. Six weeks, minimum, depending on how well you do, at Straight to God. Or it’s military school in the fall.” He started to turn away from me like that was the end, but then he turned back and added, “And in either case, young man, you’re to consider yourself grounded until further notice.”
I felt nearly hysterical. Ridiculously, what flashed through my head was a series of images of King Richard on a crusade, sent to the Holy Land to fight the infidels and, while he was at it, to purge the devil that made him want men, and all the time he was surrounded by men. Made that idiot Ted Tanner’s comment a little less idiotic. I came so close to pointing out to my father that he’d be sending me to a place where all feminine wiles would be missing and I’d have lots of boys to choose from, but something stopped me—probably the fear that he’d be so furious he’d send me there anyway, out of spite. And if I couldn’t be with Will all summer, then I sure as hell wasn’t gonna let him be out of reach all next year on top of that.
I needed to kick something. Desperately. Maybe I was grounded, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t go into the backyard. So I headed for this big old maple tree that grows near the house, the one I’d broken my nose falling out of. I can see it from my bedroom window, and I’d always felt like it knew everything that was going on. So I knew it would understand. I kicked it till my feet hurt.
When I got up to my room, things looked different on my desk. Like someone had been here, searching. But—for what? Gay porn?
Then it hit me. If I was grounded, I couldn’t use my cell phone. I dived for where I’d left it. Gone.
I pounded on anything that wouldn’t make too much noise. I screamed into my pillow. Eventually I calmed down and sank onto the floor, right where Will and I had sat that first night we kissed. Touched. Loved. Fighting tears, I relived my interview with Reverend Douglas, trying to come up with arguments that countered his insistence that this wasn’t real. That I wasn’t real. I kept hearing Angela’s words, quoting her freethinking boyfriend: if you don’t have to make sense, you can say anything you want. The problem was twofold. Angela was quoting people who didn’t even capitalize the word God. And what Reverend Douglas had said made a certain amount of sense. He almost had me wondering if maybe I had allowed Satan in.
But then I thought of Will. And Will was no Satan, and this love was from God. It had to be. Reverend Douglas was wrong. After all, he wasn’t infallible. God did make me who I am, and he made Will who he is. Just thinking of Will, though, made me cry.
The worst thing in the short term was that I was, like, totally grounded. Which meant I could spend my time reading only the things they approved of. No phone calls, no computer time, no visits from friends—my folks would be suspicious of everyone male, maybe because I hadn’t told them about Will specifically—so I was losing my mind trying to figure out how to let Will know what was happening to me. I cried myself to sleep that night, and just before I fell asleep it came to me.
That Sunday, in church, I slipped a note for Will to one of his sisters. I watched as he read it, and when he looked over at me from way too far away, the look on his face nearly made me burst into tears on the spot.
And now I was here for real. My sentence had begun. The reverend was waiting.
Charles