Date: Thu, 3 Nov 2005 03:24:36 EST
From: RitchChristopher@cs.com
Subject: briarwood:far-from-the-crowd-36
All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or
are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language,
please exit now.
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"BRIARWOOD"
Copyright Ritchris, 2005
aka "Whence Cometh My Help"
Copyrigh Ritchris, 2002
Revised Version
A dramatic saga
by
Ritch Christopher
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BOOK THREE
"BRIARWOOD LOST"
Chapter Thirty-six
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"Someone is on your side.
Someone else is not.
While we're seeing our side,
Maybe we forgot.
Things will come out right now.
We can make it so.
Someone is on our side.
No one is alone."
"NO ONE IS ALONE"
by Stephen Sondheim
"Into the Woods"
Act II
Copyright 1987
Every seat in the Briarwood High School auditorium was
filled. Spectators and right-wing on-lookers were standing three-deep along
the side walls, straining their red necks to get a glimpse of the stage.
The big maroon velvet curtain, hanging there since World War I, it seemed,
was drawn closed, forming a backdrop for the two tables, one on either side
of the proscenium. At the table on stage right sat Chuck Brindley and his
father, the Reverend Winston A. Brindley. Opposite them, on stage left, sat
Jeff and Johnny. In the center was a chair for the moderator, Principal
Harold Bartolli. The local ABC affiliate in Briarwood was carrying the
debate, covered by two stabilized cameras and three more technicians with
steady-cams on their shoulders. In the auditorium, the front row of seats
was completely filled by reporters and photographers from all sides of the
political spectrum, ranging from the Church of Christ's "Advocate" to the
New York gay magazine, "The Advocate" and painting all viewpoints in
between. The TV director was counting down the seconds till
air-time. Mr. Bartolli was awaiting his cue. Johnny reached over and placed
his right palm over Jeff's left hand on the table, as a gesture of support
and good luck.
"Three...two..."
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, townspeople, students, and
visitors. Tonight, the Briarwood High School is sponsoring a debate over a
school matter...whether or not the gay students at the school should have
the right to be recognized by the student body and faculty and also be
allowed to form and maintain a service club for student gays and
Lesbians. The format of the debate is a little unconventional compared to
most debates, but it was agreed upon by both arguing sides. To my right are
Charles Brindley, better known to his fellow students as 'Chuck', and
Charles' father, the Reverend Winston Brindley, minister of the Universal
Pentecostal Church of Briarwood, representing those who are against the
club. To my left are Jeff Clayton, a student at Briarwood High, and John
Kane, the co-founder of 'My Right to Rights', a gay organization in
Summerville.
"The difference in this debate is that Mr. Clayton and Mr. Kane
have chosen to rebut any arguments or complaints that their opponents
choose to make against the founding of such a club. They have stated that
there are no charges or complaints they wish to make toward the
'cons'. Therefore, Mr. Brindley will challenge the 'pros' with a series of
questions which their opponents will answer with a given time of 90 seconds
per response. This is a rather delicate but heated topic in the community,
so I would like to ask the members of the audience to refrain from cheering
or jeering, regardless of the viewpoint you might support.
"Gentlemen, are you ready?"
All four debaters nodded in the affirmative.
"Then let's begin. The debate will last approximately two hours,
cutting off at 10:00 PM. Let me wish good luck to both tables."
Mr. Bartolli said as he took his seat center stage.
Chuck and his dad had a small stack of papers which they had
shuffled and reshuffled, finally haven gotten them into an order which
suited them. Jeff and Johnny sat quietly behind a bare table, which held
only two glasses of water...no papers, no notes. Chuck rose, holding a
sheet of paper, and faced his opponents.
"Lately, there have been articles in the news," Chuck began,
"stating that homosexuality is not a choice, but rather that gays are born
gay. How do you reply to that statement?"
Jeff arose and faced Chuck, "Choice? That's funny. A choice? Do you
think I or any other gay would CHOOSE to be the way we are, knowing how we
have to hide or defend ourselves in nearly everything we do or every place
we go? Do you think a gay CHOOSES to be the victim of hate crimes, being
called names such as 'queer', 'faggot', and, pardon me, 'cocksucker' in
front of friends and family? Do you think a gay CHOOSES to rent an
apartment, knowing he'll be evicted because of his bedroom preference? Do
you think a gay likes to be called an 'abomination' by churches who preach
love for all of God's children? In case you're having difficulty with my
questions, let me tell you, the answer to all of them is 'no'. A gay person
has no more control over his inbred behavior than a person who is born
left-handed or one who is born with red hair and violet eyes. A guy or a
girl doesn't just live their life one way and then when they reach puberty
suddenly decide. 'Oh, today's the day, I'm gonna choose to become gay.'
That's not the way it works. It's been proven that gay tendencies have been
found in all mammals. Dogs, cats, lions, elephants, they are known to be
born with gay traits. Animals don't have a choice over their
preferences...neither do human beings...gays in particular." Jeff sat down.
The second question was expected, as Chuck held his Bible and began
reading Leviticus, Romans, and First Timothy and emphasized, 'abomination',
several times. Jeff was well prepared for this one. He presented the same
viewpoint he had to his dad and brothers, ending with 'women who wore red
dresses should be outcasts'. Jeff almost laughed out loud when he looked
down from the stage and saw Chuck's mother wearing a red autumn frock, just
as he had hoped she would. There was a small rumble and tittering in the
auditorium as several women in the audience wearing red dresses had all
eyes turned to them when Jeff had made his statement. The women wearing
the red attire suddenly wished they were naked or that Chuck would hurry
and get to the next question. One woman wearing red, seated in the next to
the last row of the auditorium, actually got up and left.
"Please, please!" Principal Bartolli said, "May we please try to
maintain some kind of order?" He used his hand to pound the portable
lectern. The crowd quieted and again focused its attention on Chuck who was
ready with his next question.
"Isn't it true that gays and their gay organizations recruit
younger children, thus promoting pedophilia?"
Jeff turned red in the face as he began his reply. "I'd like to
know where you get your speculative information? In no way do gays recruit
children, their peers, or older adults. Sometimes a closeted gay or one who
has suppressed his homosexuality is made aware of his traits and comes
forward either to express his concealment or deny what he's running
from. But he is NOT recruited. As for pedophilia, check the criminal
records in any state or in any country and you'll see than in a majority of
all cases of pedophilia, the perpetrator is a straight person...sometimes
even a married person. The percentage of gays convicted of such a crime is
less than one percent. Check the police files if you don't believe me!"
Before Jeff could catch his breath, Chuck hammered Jeff with, "How
do you explain AIDS and the way AIDS is rampant in the gay community?"
"Chuck! Chuck! Chuck! Don't you read the newspapers or watch TV? As
far as the incidence of AIDS or HIV-positive cases go, gays are now in the
minority of people contracting the condition. It's straight kids that hold
the majority of newly reported cases. When it was announced in 1985 that
AIDS was a 'gay' disease, gays did something about it. They began
practicing safe sex and chose their partners more carefully. The largest
percentage of new AIDS cases is found now in young straight men from ages
16 to 24. Black heterosexuals lead the percentage over the gay crowd
now...especially straight black males who pass it on to their
girlfriends. So before you, and others who feel the same as you, start
making charges, you'd better investigate your facts! Next?!!!"
Chuck looked flustered and shuffled through his notes while bending
over as his father whispered to him. Whatever Reverend Brindley said to
him, it brought a smile back to Chuck's face as he regained his confidence.
"Jeff, I really don't want to get personal, but I've heard rumors
that it's your ambition to become a priest. I would like to know how you
could consider such a profession, knowing that in your private life you are
sinning, or doesn't your church teach from the Holy Bible and believe all
its words?"
"I didn't want to get personal either, but since YOU did, let me
say that you and your dad are 'something else'! Apparently you don't teach
the words of the Bible, only your interpretation of what you want the words
to mean. The texts in the Old Testament were put there to become law for
Jews to abide by, but nowhere in the New Testament does Jesus, not even one
time, preach against sex of any kind. He never brings up the subject. To
the woman at the well, who was a known prostitute, he didn't condemn her or
say she's was doomed for hell, he just calmly told her, "Go and sin no
more", never mentioning what her sin was. So show me where the Bible says
it's a sin. We've already discussed the 'abomination' verse in Leviticus,
but as I said before, how can you uphold this law and defy all the others
about eating shell fish, pork or rabbits. The same chapter condemns men
with short hair, trimmed beards, or tattoos. Leviticus condemns
near-sighted people, hunchbacks, and crippled people. In that bible, women
could be put to death for having sex while they were having their
period. You can't adhere to one law and ignore the others. The way I
personally see it, ignoring the rest of the book of Leviticus is an
abomination."
This remark sparked a small amount of laughter from the
audience. Jeff was scoring his points one by one, in spite of the angry
looks Reverend Brindley was sending to the members of his congregation who
were in attendance.
Chuck was losing his self-control now. "Oh, yeah? Gays want to get
married BUT they can't reproduce which is God's plan."
"Is that a question or are you making a statement to convince
yourself or your supporters?"
"I'm stating a fact!" Chuck said, his voice quavering. "But I'll
make it into a form of a question. How can gays procreate?"
"Jeff, they do it all the time."
Chuck looked puzzled as did some of the members of the audience. It
appeared that Jeff had backed himself into a corner and couldn't get out of
it. Everyone knew that gays couldn't procreate. They were anxious to hear
Jeff explain himself further.
"You'd be surprised at how many men get married because society
forces them to...not to another man, but to a woman. Statistics show that
20% of all married men have or have had overt sex with another male. Among
young married men, 40% of them say that they are bisexual. But married gay
men have children all the time with their female spouses. Thus, according
to the principal of passing genes from one generation to the next, they are
actually procreating gay babies. If you look out into the auditorium,
those figures represent about the first fourteen rows of the audience."
All over the auditorium, women looked at their husbands in a new
light. Jeff's remark was making each of them try to recall any event or
idiosyncrasy they might deem suspicious in their male counter-parts. Some
of the men couldn't help from squirming in their seats whether they were
guilty or not. Jeff had made his point and even the men looked at each
other askance. If Jeff was correct, for every ten male friends they had,
two of them were involved in gay activities and that was difficult to
believe.
"Are you saying that there are that many gays in the country?"
"Twenty percent." Jeff replied. "While I'm quoting statistics, let
me lay another figure on you that'll stagger you. In the latest journal of
sexual behavior, it's estimated that over 90% of all males and 55% of all
females have had at least one homosexual experience in their lifetime. It
might have only been an all male masturbation session around the campfire
with the Boy Scouts, but that counts. You're an Eagle Scout, aren't you,
Chuck?"
Chuck's response seemed to fluster him. "Well...yes."
"Then you must know exactly what I'm talking about."
Old Reverend Brindley slammed his Bible shut and stared lividly at
his son. He arose and spoke to his son.
"This debate is over. We're going home, and Chuck, I want to have a
long talk with you when we get there.!" Reverend Brindley stormed off the
stage. Chuck, feeling alone and deserted, looked left and right, not
knowing whether to follow his dad or to stay and defend himself and his
views. He chose to slink off stage right.
Principal Bartolli stood and said, "It would appear that one side
of the debate has forfeited. So it looks like Jeff and John have won!"
The audience broke into applause. Jeff was speechless because he
was prepared to answer more accusations and arguments. He raised his hands
to quiet the crowd. After a two minute ovation, the cheers subsided enough
for Jeff to ask a question to his principal.
"Mr. Bartolli, what about the club?"
"The faculty will discuss it at the regular faculty meeting next
Monday. Having won your debate will give added strength to your request. Is
there anything else?"
"Yes, I'd like for you and all the audience who have concerns that
weren't discussed here tonight, to go to the internet and log on to Google
dot com and type 'anti-gay arguments'...hit Google search and wait for the
download. From there, scroll down three or four items until you find one
that says, 'Turn Out', which will link you to the 'Turn Left' dot com page
of fifty-five anti-gay arguments and their rebuttal. I think all the
answers are there."
"Thank you, Jeff, we'll do just that!" Mr. Bartolli replied, "If
there's nothing more, then I declare this debate over."
Once again, the applause began as Jeff turned to Johnny and gave
him a huge hug.
"You did it, little guy!" Johnny said to him.
"I just got started good!" Jeff replied. "The little yellow-livered
chickenshit left too soon."
"Jeff, he couldn't beat you if he'd stayed all night and asked a
thousand more questions."
"Yeah, but I didn't make my case strong enough."
"What were you trying to do, change the world? or get your club
OK'd?"
"A little of both, I guess...but as long as we get the club
legalized, that's enough for right now."
"You've got a long time ahead of you in which to change the rest of
the world...but you know something? I think your logic and rebuttals will
still be safe and sound when you're ready to use them on a higher level."
The two of them were joined on the stage by Cliff, Jay, Troy,
Walter, David, Alex, Ted, Kyle, Ryan, Jeremy, and Matt. They clustered
around the little hero and his white knight. Of the group, it was Cliff
that Jeff hugged.
"I'm sorry, Father Cliff, I wanted to do better and say a whole lot
more."
"I know, I know, big fellow, but I'll help you now. We can do
wonders in our church...together. This was only a start...but a good one."
Cliff said, hugging him tighter. Cliff turned around to face the family
group. "Do you all want to come to my house for a little late supper and a
bit of celebrating?"
They all agreed and walked off the stage arm in arm in arm in arm.
Once Jeff was in his dad's car with David, Alex, and Ted, he looked
at Johnny and said, "I guess you're going home tomorrow?"
"Yes, there's a bunch of things I've neglected that I need to tend
to. But I'll be back." Johnny replied.
"When and for how long?" Jeff asked excitedly.
"As soon as I can" Johnny said, then added, "for how
long?...forever, if you'll have me."
"Uh oh!" Walter interjected, "Looks like we'll have to make another
permanent space at the dinner table."
"Dad?" asked Jeff.
"Yes, son?"
"You know what I wanna do?"
"No, what?"
"When I get the money Uncle Roger gave me, I wanna build a big
house for Johnny and me...right next door to our house."
"Son, that's a year or so off. but we'll see. It's your money and
you can do with it as you see fit. Very frankly, I can't think of any
neighbors I'd rather have than you and Johnny."
"Me neither," Jeff replied. "Alex, what about you? Are you moving
out too?"
"No, why should I? I can live at home and save the money I'd use
for rent." Alex said.
"You fucking cheapskate! You've got millions and you want to sponge
off Dad."
"Shut up, knucklehead. Don't forget, you're still my kid brother
and I can beat you up!" Alex joked, thumping Jeff's head with his finger.
"Ted?" Jeff said.
"Yeah?"
"Are you gonna marry Alex officially now?"
"Hell, no! You want people to think I'm after his money?"
"Well, if you do, Alex can buy you season box-seat tickets now for
basketball, football, and baseball!"
"Hell, with Alex's money, he could buy me a team if he wanted to."
"Oh?" Alex said, wickedly. "Do you want one?", he asked.
"Yeah, a swim team with all blonde swimmers with real tight
muscles." Ted replied.
"THAT'S one thing I'll never buy you." Alex said, smiling at his
mate.
"Ted, are you still planning to go into sports journalism?" Walter
asked.
"That's all I've ever wanted to do since I was a kid," Ted
answered.
"If there's anything I can do to help, let me know." Walter
offered.
"Just remember, 'Mr. Cosell', if you leave town to follow some
team, I'm going with you." Alex said to Ted.
"I wouldn't go anywhere without you, babe."
"It looks like in the near future our house is going to be rather
large for only two people," David said to Walter.
"Don't worry, love, by the time that happens, we're bound to've
adopted three or four more. Cliff always seems to attract stragglers and if
he doesn't take them in, we will." Walter replied.
By the time Walter and his entourage reached the Cole mansion,
Cliff. Jay, and Troy already had the house lighted. Earlier, Jay had strewn
crepe paper streamers, banners, balloons, and flowers everywhere, honoring
Jeff's triumph.
"How'd you know I was gonna win?" Jeff asked.
"I just know you and I knew you couldn't lose," was Cliff's answer.
Jay and Troy carried trays containing flutes of champagne, passing
them out to their guests. Kyle had arrived with Ryan whereas Jeremy had
come with Matt. Everyone was present to make a complete family
picture...all except for Timmy and Rob, in New York.
It would have been a difficult contest to judge who was the
proudest of Jeff, his real dad or Cliff and Roger.
Roger said quietly to Cliff, "It looks as if I've received my first
dividend of my long-term investment."
"I see so much of us in Jeff, the way we were when we were
younger. He has spunk, drive, determination and, if he follows his dream,
some church in some diocese in some state is going to have a wonderful,
caring priest," Cliff responded to Roger.
"He's more like Cliff 'Junior' than Walter Junior or Roger Junior."
"You think I don't already know that? I just hope he doesn't fall
in love with the same guy that I did."
"I don't think there's much chance of that, my love. I may not wear
a priest's vestments any longer, and I did suffer a slight stroke, but my
insight is as powerful as it's always been. Johnny is THE one for Jeff. I
hope they'll always be as happy as us."
"Dear God! Whoever gets Jeff for its rector is going to get a hell
of a package deal, what with Johnny thrown in as a bonus!"
Cliff tapped on the rim of his goblet to get everyone's attention.
"Guys," Cliff said. "I know we're here to celebrate Jeff's victory,
but I would like the Golden Voiced Orator, himself, to make the first
toast."
Jeff was taken by complete surprise. He sat frozen for a moment,
then rose, walked forward and turned to face his huge family. His eyes
surveyed the room. There was Father Cliff, his mentor, his best and wisest
friend in the world; Roger, his benefactor and second best friend; his dad,
Walter, for whom he thanked God, and his dad's new lover, David, who had
brought closure to his dad's loneliness; his brother, Alex, whom he had
always loved and admired, Alex's other half, Ted, with whom Alex had chosen
to spend the rest of his life. Then he looked at his 'adopted' brothers,
Kyle and Ryan, who had found a new meaning to the phrase, 'second chance';
and at Jay and Troy, who couldn't live without each other. Jeremy and Matt
weren't really part of the family, but their presence counted too. They had
been blessed to find their way into the selected group. At last, Jeff's
eyes focused on Johnny, his newly found love...the one who had come to him,
quite by accident, but whom Jeff considered as having been sent by God to
be with him for all time. Jeff was beaming as he looked on the large
gathering.
"I've never made a toast before," Jeff said, "I really don't know
what to say except I suddenly feel like Tiny Tim in Dickens, 'Christmas
Carol'. I guess all I can say is, 'God bless us, every one'!"
They all raised their glasses high.
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When the celebration party had ended, everyone left, leaving Roger
alone with Jay and Troy while Cliff returned to the church to check on his
phone calls and whatever items on his agenda he had to attend to. In the
hallway outside Cliff's office, a young man was seated all alone. The
unexpected guest appeared to be around twenty-five to thirty years old. He
was indeed handsome to say the least.
"How do you do? I'm Father Cliff. Did you have an appointment to
see me, one which I either accidentally overlooked or one which I foolishly
forgot?"
"No, sir," replied the young man. "I was driving through town and
noticed your church. I can't say for sure why I stopped, but I suddenly
felt an urge to come inside and pray. Afterward, I thought I needed to
speak with you."
"I'm very glad you did. The doors of St. Genesius are always open
to pilgrims."
The young man laughed. "I've been called lots of things in my life
but never before a 'pilgrim'! I guess in a way I am. Forgive me I didn't
introduce myself to you. My name is Christopher Curtis...Chris, if you
like."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Chris," Cliff replied. "Are you visiting
someone in Briarwood?"
"No, I know no one here. As I said, I'm just passing through."
"Are you headed north or south?"
"I'm not really sure. I just came from the south, however. Atlanta,
Georgia, to be exact."
"Your accent doesn't appear to be Georgian.?
"I was born and raised in New York. I moved to Atlanta to take a
work position."
"May I ask what line of work you're in?"
"I...I'm a...well, I used to be a priest...an Anglican priest."
"Your phrase, 'used to be', intrigues me."
"I was the assistant rector of a church in Atlanta up until a few
days ago."
"Then pardon my presumption, but are you running away from
something or running to something better?"
"I suppose I'm running away. I...I really have no place to go. I
resigned my position, got in my car and thought I'd let the Lord lead me
where he chose for me to go."
"And as of now, the Lord has led you to St. Genesius?"
"Perhaps, but I'm not certain if this is the destination He means
for me."
"Did you leave your church in good stead? I mean, no one is looking
for you for some felony?"
"Oh no! I'm guilt-free except for a lifestyle which wasn't accepted
by my senior rector."
"Would you care to give ma a few details?"
"Maybe, if you can explain where an openly gay priest can serve the
Lord and be able to attend to his parish without the condemnation of the
diocese?"
"That might be easier for me to explain than you think. Tell me
something, quite honestly, if you don't mind."
"I have nothing to hide since you know my basic secret."
"Did you know or did someone tell you I was looking for an
assistant rector at St. Genesius?"
"No, sir. As a matter of fact, I had never heard of St. Genesius
until I drove past a little while ago."
"I assume you have all your credentials?"
"Am I qualified? Yes. I'm a college graduate. I completed my
seminary and was ordained by the Atlanta diocese."
"Are there any black marks on your record? I mean, you weren't
accused of any crime such as molestation?"
"To be honest, yes, I was, but I was totally exonerated by the
youth involved and by his parents. But the humiliation I had to suffer to
clear my name.... I...I could have stayed at my parish, but when one is
accused of such a crime, it's all but impossible to have everyone believe
your innocence without casting a look of question, especially when you look
into their eyes while serving them bread and wine."
"Chris? Where is your next stop? I mean, where are you going when
you leave here?"
"A motel, perhaps...after I've eaten. I'm pretty tired from driving
and I am a bit hungry."
"Would you accept an invitation to come to my house for dinner and
then stay the night?"
"I don't know..."
"I think you'll feel very comfortable at my place. I live with my
longtime companion, Roger, and we have a couple of young men, about your
same age, whom my partner and I have unofficially adopted."
"Am I to understand that you're a...gay priest?"
"For years. Nearly half my congregation is filled with gay men and
women."
"Dear God! I don't know what to say!"
"Just say, 'yes'. I'm sure Roger and our two 'sons', Jay and Troy,
would love to meet you. After dinner, I would like to have a long talk with
you to see how you would feel, 'fitting in' at St. Genesius."
"Father Cliff, do you believe in divine intervention?"
"I lived by it all my life."
"You don't suppose it was God who led me here, made me stop, and
come inside to pray?"
"Wouldn't surprise me in the least."
Chris choked up and could hardly speak, "Then I...I will accept
your offer for dinner."
"I was hoping you would, Father Chris..."
"Just 'Chris' please, for now."
"Then call me, 'Cliff' for now."
"I'm sorry if I feel like crying, but I can't seem to help myself."
"Then go ahead and cry. I'm here to help you."
Chris broke down and the tears ran down his cheeks.
"Thank you, Cliff."
"Today is Thursday. I don't suppose you'd stay through Sunday and
help me celebrate mass, would you?"
"I...I have no vestments."
"Poppycock! There's an entire wardrobe of vestments in the dressing
room."
"Let's wait until after we talk tonight. Then if you still want to
ask..."
"Fine. But if you feel as if you're being 'ganged up on' during
dinner, don't say I didn't warn you."
"Cliff? If I kneel, will you bless me?"
"Nothing would give me greater honor, Chris."
Chris knelt before Cliff while Cliff reached in his pocket for his
small vial of oil. He tilted the small bottle to cover his right thumb with
the oil and signed the cross on Chris forehead. "I bless you in the name of
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Father Chris."
Chris took Cliff's left hand and kissed Roger's commitment ring
while Cliff placed his hand on top of Chris' head.
"Come on, now! Let's go eat. You and I have a lot of things to
discuss!"
Cliff was astounded by Chris' appearance in his office. Had Roger
set this whole thing up or was it an act of God? Everything had happened
just TOO perfectly,--- just as Roger had predicted.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
THE END OF BOOK THREE
(To be continued in "Briarwood" -- BOOK FOUR -- "Father Jeff" -- chapter
thirty-seven)
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