Date: Fri, 25 Jun 2004 22:26:16 -0400 (EDT)
From: Sean Roberts <seanr_13@yahoo.ca>
Subject: The Silver Compass - 14

The Silver Compass
By: Sean Roberts

Author's Note: Please send all feedback to seanr_13@yahoo.ca It is very
much appreciated.

Strike 3

He became confident that she would talk to him when she was
ready.  Still he did not want to wait.  He began checking his
cellular phone compulsively to see if he had missed any calls
from her.  He checked his mailbox and his inbox every chance he
got to see if she had written him.  He missed her writing.  He
would watch her as she wrote him a note in class.  He watched
her hand move in circles to form letters; he never tired of
examining the curves and trails and dots of her hand writing.

He saw her every day at school.  He would always be looking
out for her so he would see her from the other end of the
hallway.  His heart would start pounding -- this will be the time
-- "hi".  He got the same thing back from her.  An insignificant
hi.  But he could not say anything more to her unless she was
willing to speak with him.



His dining room was airy.  The word came to his mind every
time he entered it.  It was decorated with light wood, carpets,
artwork with pastel greens and blues.  Large bay windows allowed
in a lot of light.  They were using it that day.  Michael and
Matthew were off for the Christmas break so they had time for a
proper meal.  Their mother wanted to make it special.  She
wanted Michael to feel good, to enjoy his dinner so he would be
more open to the conversation.

So she brought it up over dessert.  She had agreed with
Michael's father that she would be the one to say it.  They had
decided on exactly what to say and how to say it.  She had a
thin mouth; her lips did not stand out on her face.  She had a
timid voice but she spoke confidently.  "We know you're gay
Mike."  Michael and Matthew and their father all dropped their
spoons.  This was not what she was supposed to say.  She was
supposed to ask him, and then when he lied, tell him that she
already knew.

"Excuse me?" Michael said.  He brought his white napkin up
to his lips to cover his smile.  He did not know what he found
funny but he could not help smiling.

"You heard your mother," said his father, adopting a stern
tone of voice.  "So do you have anything to say?"  They had not
decided exactly what they wanted to say to Michael after the
confrontation.

"What would you like me to say?" Michael asked, withdrawing
his napkin and forcing the smile away.

"Maybe tell us if it's true or not?" said his mother.  She
was giving him a way out.  They had agreed not to give him a way
out.

"It isn't."  He allowed himself to laugh.  "Where did you
come up with this?  Oh, right.  Thank you very much," he said,
turning to his brother.  "I really hoped you wouldn't tell them;
especially since I didn't tell them what you did."  Michael
stood up suddenly.  He was angry -- more at himself than at
Matthew.  Then he realized his mistake.  His parents, though
they already knew, were looking shocked.  He saw their faces and
looked away, the faux Monet on the wall -- water lilies sitting
quietly on a stream.  He wished he was there, alone in the
painting with nothing but the water to keep him company.

"What did you do Matt?" asked Mrs. Miller.  Matthew looked
like he was going to be sick.  Michael knew that he should not
have brought it up.

"N-nothing," Matthew said, glancing up at his brother.

"This isn't about Matthew," said Mr. Miller.  "It's about
you Mike.  We know a therapist.  We've scheduled a session for
you tomorrow, at two o'clock..."

"Wait, a therapist?  What the hell for?"

"You're confused Mike," said Mrs. Miller.  "You need
somebody to talk to who can help you."

"I see.  You think that this is something that I can
change."  Michael smacked Matthew, hard, on the back of his
head.  "This is your fault you son of a bitch, so sort it the
fuck out before I tell them what you need therapy for."

Michael left.  From his bed room he dialled Sarah's number.
She did not answer.  "Sarah it's me, Mike.  I need to talk to
you.  I'll be at the field at nine o'clock.  Please come.  Or
call if you can't meet me."  He stopped by the dining room,
wearing his jacket, his keys clinking with every small movement
of his arm.  They were talking in hushed voices, he could not
hear what they were saying.  They stopped when he walked in.
With false politeness in his voice he said, "I'm leaving.  I'll
be home late so please don't wait up."  He walked away.  Nobody
tried to stop him.



Michael lit a cigarette.  He was walking around on a
baseball field two minutes from his house.  If they weren't
lying, almost naked, on a bed, it was in this field he felt
closest to Sarah.  They used to be on a team, playing baseball
in blue and white uniforms, pretending they were playing for the
Blue Jays.

When they got older they started going at night, when it
was empty.  He would throw the ball to her and she would throw
it back at him.  They did not play baseball; they simply used
their gloves and a ball.  They also had a black, spotted sky and
bright lights around the field.  And they had absolute quiet.
Nobody else came after dark.  They stood far enough away that
they had to use loud voices to talk to each other.  Yet they
would say anything to each other; he was secure in knowing that
only she would hear what he said.  They shared feelings; they
became closer every time they visited.

They became slightly older but had not grown up.  They
decided one day to start smoking, and they did it on the field.
Michael never stopped.  Sarah saw her parents kissing one day
and she wanted to try it.  It was the first time for both of
them -- the innocent kiss of a boy and a girl reaching puberty.
Whenever one of them needed to talk about something important,
they met on the field.



Michael was walking -- the snow in the grass providing a
cushion for his feet.  One minute past nine.  Two minutes past
nine.  Three minutes past nine.  She was not going to come.  Why
did I even try?  Why didn't I just call Cameron?  And then he
saw someone walking towards him.  He could not make her out
until she was close.

"What is it?" she asked him emotionlessly.

"Matthew told my parents.  They're trying to send me to
therapy."

"Therapy?  What for?"

"Because they think that some shrink is going to get me to
snap out of being gay."

"You can't be serious.  If I couldn't do it Michael..."  She
was grinning.

"This is serious Sarah.  They've already made the
appointment."

"I don't see your parents doing something like that."

"I never knew what my parents would have done.  That's why
I never wanted them to find out."

"Oh great plan.  They would have to find out sooner or
later.  You're never going to go out with a girl.  You're never
going to marry, well, anybody.  You would have to tell them."

"What makes you think I'll never marry?"

"Because you can't.  It's still illegal."

"I don't think it will be by the time I'm ready."

"Oh Michael you don't even know him that well!  You can't
be thinking about marrying..."

"Of course I'm not!  Okay fine, I am, but not right now.
Not until we're both ready.  I mean we're still in high school,
and...how do you know how well I know him?  You haven't been
around for me to tell you anything about him."

"I don't want to know anything about him Michael.  Don't
you get it?  I love you!  I don't want to hear or know about
other girls!  I don't want to hear about your dates or about you
having sex with anybody!  That's why we can't fucking be friends
anymore!"

"There will never be any other girls Sarah.  Or any girls
at all.  That's the whole FUCKING PROBLEM HERE!  Don't you think
that I would like nothing more than to be able to go out with
you?  But unfortunately I can't.  That day that we, that we, you
know!  The only reason I was able to do it was because you kept,
kept touching it!  And the only reason I even did it was that I
needed to know.  After that, I knew that nothing can change
this."

"I'm glad I could help," she said coldly.

"I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have done it but I can't take it
back.  Sarah I've been thinking about you so much and all I've
been doing was trying to think about how I could take it back."

"You're right Michael, you can't.  But what you can do is
leave me alone.  I need you completely out of my life.  It's the
only way I'm going to be able to deal with this.  And besides,
instead of bugging me, maybe you should try talking to your
brother."

"My brother?  What does Matthew have to do with this?"

"He has everything to do with this.  He's the one who told
your parents, he's the one who pissed off Cameron..."

"How do you know about that?"

"Because he told me, he was feeling badly about it...come on,
think about it, why are you talking to me about this?  There's
nothing I can do."

"I called you because you love me.  I know you love me and
I know what the sex meant to you.  I know that after what I did
you never forgave me, even though you said you did.  And I don't
blame you.  But I can't lose you Sarah.  You've been the best
friend I've ever had and...I can't deal with this stuff on my
own."

"Yes you can Michael.  You're a big boy now.  You'll figure
it out."  She leaned forwards and kissed his red, hard, frozen
cheek.  He felt a spot of warmth.  "You don't know how good it
feels to be able to do that."

"Stop calling me Michael, Sarah."

"Stop fucking around with me then."  She was becoming
angry.  "If you have a problem, Michael, deal with it.  All this
time we've been standing her in the freezing, fucking, cold, you
could have been at home with Matt or with your parents working
out this whole thing."

"Right.  Like it's that easy.  They all think that I'm
making it up.  They think I'm confused.  You're the only one who
knows that I'm not.  So tell me, what could I say to them?"

"Explain it to them; the way you explained it to me.  I
have to go Michael."  She turned around walked towards the
parking lot.  Michael watched her until she disappeared.  He
wanted to call her back, but he knew he couldn't.



When he got home he could hear Matthew's and his parents'
voices coming from the dining room.  They had not moved since he
left.  He took his time hanging his jacket, and then walked into
the room.

"I'll see the shrink tomorrow.  Not because it'll make any
difference but because it's probably the only way that any of
you will ever realize that this isn't something I can change."