Date: Thu, 1 Nov 2001 16:01:50 -0800 (PST)
From: Mark Stevens <rustynail920@yahoo.com>
Subject: In the Direction of Happiness   Part 1

The following is property of the author.  Permission is
granted to Nifty Archives to post one copy.

This is a work of fiction.  Any similarity to individuals,
living or dead, is pure coincidence.  Do not read this
story if you are offended by man-to-man romance or
sex.  Do not read if you are underage according to the
laws in the country, state/province, county,
city/town/village or township where you live.

This is a love story.  As in all good love stories, there
will be sex.  But, before we get there, you will read
considerable plot and character development.  I hope
you enjoy the story.

I enjoy receiving e-mail and will attempt to answer all
messages.  Mail to:  rustynail920@yahoo.com


In The Direction of Happiness


Chapter 1 - A Chance Meeting

  My early morning drive to LAX was a nightmare.
Blinding rain obscured the southbound 405 and traffic was
backed up from the Santa Monica freeway north to Victory
Blvd. some 15 miles behind me.  Why I booked a flight out
of L.A. at 9:00 A.M. on a Monday morning is beyond
comprehension.  Having lived in the San Fernando Valley
most of my life I should have known better.  Every
commuter in Los Angeles County was on the road and, of
course, in a hurry.

  Without warning a myriad of red lights warned of danger
ahead.  Realizing that there was precious little I could do, I
braked and hoped for the best.  Fortunately my front
bumper stopped just inches behind the beige Nissan
Pathfinder ahead of me.  My rear bumper was not so lucky.
The sudden jolt was alarming but I knew immediately that I
was fine.  As I looked in the rear view mirror I could barely
distinguish, through the rain, the figure of what looked to
be a young woman slumped over the steering wheel of a
new Ford Ranger truck.  Jumping from my car into the cold
rain I quickly approached the driver. Oh please let her be
ok, I silently petitioned whatever gods might be listening.

  Looking through the closed driver's side window I didn't
detect any movement.  I began knocking and loudly asking
if she were hurt.  Slowly, as if coming out of a trance, she
turned to look in my direction.  I could tell that she was
stunned but probably nothing worse.

  "Are you ok? " I asked as she rolled down her window
and gave me a weak smile.

  "I think so, everything happened so fast," she replied.
"But, how are you and what have I done to your car and, oh
my God, to Miguel's truck?"

  I didn't have any idea who Miguel was, probably her
boyfriend, but looking over at my car all I could see was a
hefty dent in my bumper.  Driving a six year old Toyota
Tercel, I wasn't too concerned. The damage to Miguel's
truck wasn't much worse.

  "It doesn't look too bad," I said with my most assuring
smile.  I hate to see anybody cry and by now silent tears
were finding paths down her cheeks.

  "Step outside and take a look for yourself, I encouraged.

  My name is Steven Houston," I said as I extended my
hand.

  She returned my greeting and told me her name was Sarah
Ortiz.  Standing about 5' 4" tall, Sarah had long black hair
and the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.  Her eyes were
sad yet they radiated warmth that somehow captured my
heart.  I'm rarely at a loss for words yet here I stood,
dripping wet in the middle of a crowded Southern
California freeway, and all I could do was stare.  Now I
was the one in a trance.  Brought back to reality by the
incessant honking of horns I suggested that we get the
vehicles off of the freeway as quickly as possible.  Finding
an opening in traffic we managed to navigate our way to
the next off ramp and pull into the parking lot of a small
donut shop.  I knew there was no way I was going to make
my flight so I invited Sarah into the shop for coffee.

  We entered the shop wringing wet and stood fascinated as
we watched two puddles of water forming at our feet.  A
young and exceedingly handsome Hispanic man told us not
to be concerned as he retreated to the rear of the store,
moments later returning with a mop.  We ordered coffee
and donuts and took a seat near the window.  Once settled I
used my cell phone to call the airport to check on the flight
schedule.  To my delight I learned that my flight had been
delayed, not due to the heavy rain, but oddly enough, thick
fog.  It's amazing how weather conditions in the Los
Angeles area can vary, even over short distances.
California's unique geography accounts for this
phenomenon.  Within a couple hours drive you can visit the
coast, mountains and desert.

  Over coffee I learned that Miguel was Sarah's older
brother and that they had recently moved to Los Angeles
from their home in New Mexico.  The truck that Sarah had
been driving belonged to Miguel and he had only owned it
for two weeks.  Sarah quietly wept as she thought how
disappointed her brother would be when he learned of the
dent in his new and much prized truck.

  Their mother, Consuela, was born in Mexico City where
she lived until she was twenty years old.  Consuela met and
married Pedro Ortiz, a lay worker in a Pentecostal
denomination who was assisting in the construction of
missionary chapels across the Mexican countryside.  Pedro,
an American citizen, completed his term of service with the
church and quickly brought his new wife to his home near
Santa Fe.  Miguel and Sarah were both born at home and
lived in the same house until their departure for L.A., six
months ago. Their upbringing was strict and guided wholly
by the dogma of their church.  Evidently their father
believed in a very literal interpretation of Scripture and
there was no room for varying opinion or even discussion.

 Miguel loved Sarah deeply and was very protective.
Likewise, Sarah was devoted to her brother but implied that
his over protection was more than a little stifling. Be that as
it may, it was obvious that they were a team and were
facing life's challenges together. With the little information
offered I gleaned that their departure from New Mexico
was sudden and not by choice. I had the distinct feeling that
they left fearing violence and even here, in Los Angeles,
did not feel totally safe.  Looking into Sarah's eyes I could
see emotion welling up and she had become noticeably
uncomfortable.  I changed the subject.

  I told Sarah that I was heading to LAX to catch a flight to
Spokane Washington.  I was taking an overdue vacation
and would be visiting a long time friend who had moved to
the great Pacific Northwest.  I had not seen Mark and his
wife Barbara for over a year and was apprehensive about
the visit.  I explained that they had left California shortly
after a disagreement that nearly ended our friendship.  As I
was talking I noticed Sarah carefully watching my eyes and
somehow I felt she was looking deep within me.  The
intensity of her gaze became unnerving when suddenly, in
mid sentence, she interrupted me.

  "Steven, I don't think our meeting was by chance.  I
mean...the accident.  I think there is a reason the collision
occurred."  Sarah's voice was hushed, almost as if she
feared somebody was listening.

  "Yeah, there are too many damn cars on L.A. freeways
and when it rains Angelenos don't know how to drive," I
answered flippantly.

  "No, no, that's not what I mean.  Miguel says I'm a Bruja.
I know he's only teasing but Steven, he may be right.  I
know things people cannot know.  Even as a little girl I
knew I had a special gift.  Some say it's intuition, others,
like my father, say it's a curse.  That is part of the reason
why we had to leave our home."  Sarah's eyes again filled
with tears.

  "What the hell is a Bruja," I asked.

  "A Mexican witch," she tentatively answered.

  "A witch," I exclaimed loudly.  "Well, you're the prettiest
witch I've ever seen."

  By now my senses were reeling.  A participant in a traffic
accident on route to one of the busiest airports in the world,
while driving through Los Angles during a torrential
downpour, heading for a vacation that I was more than
apprehensive to take, was a little more than my mind could
fathom.

  "Sarah, what are you talking about," I said rather harshly.

  "All I'm saying is that I'm intuitive and I know with
certainty that we were meant to meet.  Unfortunately it took
an auto accident for the meeting to happen, but we are both
OK, and I don't believe this is the end of the story.  I feel so
strongly that we are going to help each other."

  I could tell that Sarah totally believed what she was saying
and perhaps she was right.  I was drawn to her the moment
I saw her in the truck.  We were already speaking like we'd
known each other for years and, I liked her.  I felt as if I'd
made a good friend.

  "Steven, I can prove it to you," she said with a grin.

  "Ok, shoot," I answered.

  "You're gay."  Her proclamation was delivered tenderly
but with authority.  "You're gay, aren't you?"

  To put it mildly, I was stunned.  As I regained my
composure my first reaction was anger.  Who the hell does
she think she is?  For God's sake, we just met.  She 'rear
ends' me because she was driving too damn fast and now
she tells me she's a witch and has the gall to say that I'm
gay.  And, as if to make matters worse, she's smiling at me.
My head was swimming.

  Sarah slowly reached across the table and placed her hand
over mine.  "Steven, it's OK.  Please, just listen to me for a
minute.  I know you're angry and I don't blame you.
Miguel always says I speak without thinking.  But just take
a moment and think about what I'm saying.  I've known you
for less than one hour yet I already trust you completely
and, unless I'm very mistaken, you trust me too.  I need
somebody that I can trust, somebody to laugh and cry with,
and Steven, so do you.  Let me tell you something else.
You are standing at a major crossroads and the decisions
you are about to make will direct a course of events that
will determine your future happiness, or perhaps,
loneliness.  You need to come to terms with who you are
and it's important that you do it now.  Steven, I want to be
your friend."

  As she continued to speak I could feel my anger slipping
away.  How could she know so much about me?  At 35
years old I'd still not come to terms with my own sexuality.
How could she know that I was more confused today then
at any other time in my life?  Until my fight with Mark I
had always had a clear sense of who I was and where my
life was heading.  I was optimistic, a bit idealistic and
always cheerful.  But lately I'd felt lost and without
direction.  Adrift in a sea of doubt and plagued with low
self-esteem.  What has happened to me, I wondered, and
how could she know?

  "Sarah, how can you know these things about me?  You're
right, I do trust you.  I have no idea why".

  I was desperate to understand my sexuality.  Perhaps she
could help me.  Now I was the one with tears in my eyes.
The last time I cried, Mark was driving away from my
house and I feared our friendship was over.  That time I
cried all night.

  Sarah's eyes were alive with compassion and warmth.
The sorrow that I had seen earlier was gone, at least for
now.  I marveled at her beauty.  I wanted her friendship.

  "Sarah, how do you know that I'm gay?  I honestly don't
know myself what team I'm playing on.  Tell me, please,
how do you know this?"

  I could hear the desperation in my own voice.  Until this
very moment I hadn't realized just how troubled I was
about my sexuality.  I knew that unless I came to terms
with this, the happiness I so longed for would continue to
elude me.

  "I don't know how to explain it to you Steven, I don't
understand it myself.  I trust my intuition; it has never
failed me.  I like to think it's the voice of God speaking to
my heart. You believe me, don't you?"

  "Yes, I don't know why but yes, I do believe you."

  As I answered I felt a strange assurance that indeed God
was speaking to me.  Now that was probably the strangest
thing to happen on this already bizarre day.  I had once
been an avid churchgoer.  As a child I thought that I wanted
to be a minister.  As I grew older I taught Sunday School.
This all changed as I began to see how the church, or at
least the churches I attended, used and manipulated people.
Worse, I began to chafe at the hypocrisy that was being
passed off as faith.


Chapter 2 - 'And Upon Her Forehead A Name Was Written'


  I remember clearly the last evening I attended a worship
service.  It was ten years ago.  I was part of a Pentecostal
group that stressed the use of God's miraculous gifts.
Speaking in tongues, healing, prophecy, the whole nine
yards.  I was totally in awe of the leader of the group.  Her
name was Connie Latham and she claimed to have served
in the ministry of the late Katherine Kuhlman.  Connie was
in her fifties and very attractive.  Slender and graceful with
flowing blond hair.  Hair that was obviously bleached that
color but nonetheless elegant.  She wore long white flowing
dresses and was the image most of us have of what an angel
looks like.  The trademark of her ministry was the spiritual
phenomenon called, 'being slain in the spirit'.  Simply put,
the Spirit of God would come upon you and you would fall
to the ground, 'rapt in glory'.  Of course this usually
happened when Connie was praying for you or when she
lightly touched your forehead or neck.  I must admit that it
happened to me on several occasions.  Whether it was a
genuine epiphany or my own personal spiritual hysteria,
I'm not sure.  All I know is that I believed it to be God
working through his servant, Connie.

  There were twelve of us at the core of Connie's ministry.
We would meet regularly for prayer and to receive counsel
from Connie.  I felt so honored to be part of this group.  I
was enthusiastic and dogmatic.

  Proof that God was blessing the ministry could be seen at
the monthly evangelistic and healing services that were
held at a large Protestant church in Sherman Oaks.  Connie
would deliver a sermon and at some point she would begin
to receive messages from God.  In the time honored
Pentecostal tradition she would announce that somebody in
the congregation was receiving a healing from God.
"Somebody is being healed of arthritis," she would
proclaim.  Or, "somebody is being delivered from the spirit
of alcohol, come forward and receive your miracle," she
would plead.  And of course the aisles of the church would
fill with the sick, weary and troubled. All looking for
tangible proof that their faith was genuine and to witness
the spectacular. One by one they would come to the stage
to receive their miracle, dispensed through the hands of
God's humble servant, Connie Latham.

  You have to understand that, at least in our ministry, God
worked with all the dramatic flair you'd expect to see in a
carnival sideshow.  When Connie prayed, she prayed
loudly and within moments most recipients of God's favor
would find themselves flat on their backs as the ga-loooo-
ry of God washed over them.  Some nights Connie would
announce that God had opened the floodgates and the entire
congregation would flock to the stage and drop like flies.  It
was deliverance at its finest.

  I was a 'catcher'.  It was my job to stand at the foot of the
chancel area and greet the faithful as they waited for their
turn to receive prayer.  One by one I would ask their names
and what they would like Connie to pray about.  I would
individually escort them to Connie and cheerfully make
their introduction.  As Connie began her prayerful
supplication I would quickly position myself behind the
person and prepare to catch him or her when the Spirit of
God 'came upon them'.  Generally this operation ran
smooth enough, but on occasion, the Lord would act faster
then I could move.  All I could do was helplessly watch as
the poor soul crashed to the floor with a thud.  It was also
my job to be sure that, when the ladies fell, that they did so
modestly. On more than one occasion I found myself
discreetly trying cover legs and thighs with dresses that had
somehow hiked well above their waist.  One evening a
rather large middle aged woman hit the floor before I had a
chance to even introduce her to Connie.  To my horror, I
realized that her skirt had completely lifted above her waist
and she lie sprawled flat on her back, spread-eagle, and
facing the congregation.  Try as I may, she would not
budge.  Putting on my most pious face I sat down directly
in front of her and pretended to pray.

  I was part of the ministry for over a year when I began to
question the validity of what was happening.  I began to
notice that the same people would come back month after
month requesting prayer for the same malady, each time
claiming victory over the illness.  I became alarmed when I
realized that Connie or her brother Joel, who acted as her
manager, increasingly observed our personal lives.  We
were told how to behave, on and off the stage, and even our
home life was open to scrutiny.  It was an election year and
we were counseled how, as "committed Christians," we
should vote.  Connie would continually exhort us to "live
lives above reproach."

  One Saturday morning I received a phone call at home.  It
was Connie and she asked if I could have coffee with her
that afternoon.  Her voice was quite serious and I asked her
if something wrong.  She assured me that there was not a
problem but she really wanted to see me about an issue of
some urgency.  I agreed to meet her at her home in Studio
City.  I live in the Santa Susanna Mountains just north of
the San Fernando Valley so it was a forty-minute drive to
her home.  Not exactly the way I wanted to spend my
Saturday afternoon, but it was for the ministry so I obliged
her.  What else could I do?  I arrived at her house and was
greeted by her housekeeper who told me that I was
expected.  I was escorted into the family room where
Connie and her brother were waiting for me.  Joel stood up
and walked across the room and extended his hand.  "So
glad you could join us today Steven, of course we would
never ask you to take time away from your work if it wasn't
of some importance," Joel said with a look of feigned piety.

  It was more an inconvenience than anything else.  I work
at home and set my own hours.  I own 25 acres of land and
use it to grow trees and shrubs that I sell to retail nurseries.
I have two employees that manage just fine when I'm away.
Smiling at Joel, I walked over to greet Connie who
remained seated.

  "Hello Steven, thank you so much for coming, we have
exciting news to share with you," Connie flashed a radiant
smile as she spoke.

  "Good afternoon Connie,"

  I smiled nervously as I reached out to take her extended
hand.  For some reason I always became bashful when
Connie spoke to me.  I think in part she intimidated me.  I
was a relatively new convert to this brand of Christianity
and in the presence of a beautiful woman who wielded the
power of Almighty God.  I thought she could look right
into my heart and mind and see all of my sins and
insecurities.

  "Please sit down and relax.  We have much to discuss so
I'll get right to the point.  Steven, we've been asked to
become a regular part of the televised worship service at
the Pentecostal Tabernacle in Westwood.  Our ministry of
healing and deliverance will be televised monthly
throughout Los Angeles and much of Southern California.
Do you understand what this means?  This is the answer to
our prayers.  The anointing of Almighty God is upon us."

  I sat there as if struck by lightning.  As she spoke her eyes
stared right into my soul and I felt as if I was about to
suffocate.  I tried to smile, I tried to look joyous, but I'm
afraid I merely looked like I was getting sick.  I could see,
from the corner of my eye, that Joel was laughing.

  "Steven," he spoke, "you look like you've seen a ghost.
Don't worry son, I felt the same way when I heard the
news.  But Connie reminded me that this is a work begun
by the Almighty, and if God is with us, who can be against
us?  This is all to His glory.   Am I not right?"

  "Well yes, of course, but...  I don't know what to say.  It's
wonderful but I don't think I can do it."  I realized I was
making absolutely no sense.

  "Of course you can. God has told me so," Connie spoke.

  "He what."  I gasped.

  "His hand is upon you Steven."  Connie's voice was clear
and strong as she spoke to me.

  "You are God's choice to lead my ministry.  God always
raises up a strong man in the time of need.  Steven, you are
that man.  Joel's job is taking him to the East Coast.  He
and Mona will be leaving for New York in two weeks and I
need you.  Our ministry will move to the Tabernacle in two
months and we don't have much time to get ready."

  I sat there in silence for what seemed an eternity.  I heard
Connie tell Joel that God was dealing with my doubt and to
give me a few minutes.  I don't know why, I knew deep
inside it was wrong, but I agreed to do it.  Fear and doubt
gripped me, but if Connie said God had spoken to her, then
who was I to doubt his plan?

  "Steven, you don't know what a weight you have taken off
my shoulders," Joel said.  "I need to make preparations to
move but I couldn't, in clear conscience, leave my sister on
her own. I've given this much thought and you are the one I
want to replace me."

  At that point I wondered who indeed had chosen me, Joel
or God, but I didn't say anything.

  "There is only one other item we need to discuss and it is,
well, somewhat delicate."

  "I didn't know what they were going to say but I felt as if
a cloud had just passed between me and the sun.  A feeling
of foreboding seemed to fill my senses.  "What is it?" I
said.

  "Steven, you are a man possessed of many talents, not the
least of which is leadership," Connie spoke softly.  "As a
leader in God's army you will be watched by many.  Some
will view you with respect, some with jealousy and some
with the intent of bringing you down.  Satan will do all he
can to destroy this work of God and we must be prepared
for his assaults.  Steven, please don't take this the wrong
way.  Everything I say is with love and respect for you as a
coworker and as a friend.  You have one flaw in your
otherwise sterling armor."  Connie paused as if waiting for
me to speak.

  "What is that," I managed to say.

  "You are without a wife or even a girlfriend," she said.

  "Is that a flaw?"  I was more confused than ever.

"You really don't know how handsome you are, do you?
Aren't you aware that the single women on our team, to say
nothing of the women in the congregation, all have their
sights set on you?  None of us have ever seen you with a
date and you never speak of anybody special in your life.
Steven, this can cause many complications for you and for
the ministry.  Some have wondered, and please forgive me,
but some have questioned whether you might be a
homosexual."

  "This creates two problems Steven," Joel was quick to
add.  "The lesser of the two is the potential for competition
and jealousy between your female coworkers in the
ministry.  It's obvious that both Darlene and Brenda are just
dying to get you in the sack," Joel said with a wry smile.  "I
guess you haven't noticed that most of the young women
who come forward for prayer always stand in your line.
Good Lord Steven, they all want you to catch them when
they fall."

  "My heart tells me that you are oblivious to the problem.
But that doesn't alter the fact that a problem exists.  With
you as the head of my team the problem will only escalate
if it is not corrected. We cannot have strife within our ranks
and during the healing services all hearts, minds and eyes
must be focused on the glory of God," Connie added.

  Before I could say anything Joel looked me straight in eye
and asked, "are you a homosexual?"

  Once again I was thunderstruck.  I didn't know what to
say.  I wanted to hide.  I suddenly felt dirty or perhaps
shameful is a better word.  I answered as honestly as I
could.

  "I've never had sex with a man.  I've only had sex with
one woman in my entire life and that relationship ended
three years ago."

  I spoke a slightly stretched version of the truth and it was
painful to do so.  I had always felt embarrassed that I had
not had more sexual experience.  Most of my friends
bragged about how many women they had screwed.
Somehow it made me question my manliness.

  "We are so relieved to hear you say that," Joel said while
looking over at Connie.  "We can work with the girlfriend
problem, but if you were a Sodomite, there would be no
place for you in God's ministry."

  "So it's settled," Connie said as she stood up and walked
over to where I was sitting.  "Let's thank God for the
wonderful things he is doing and ask for his guidance."

  Connie led us in a prayer that I don't remember a word of.
When she finished she told me that she would like me to
meet with her again the following Saturday to begin
making plans for both our move to the Tabernacle and my
promotion to head of the ministry.  In the meantime I was
told to pray for guidance and admonished not to say
anything about our conversation to anybody.  Our last
service at the Sherman Oaks church would be Wednesday
evening and at that time she would make a public
announcement.  I left for home, dazed and wondering what
the hell had happened.

  The last healing service held in Sherman Oaks began as
usual.  The ministry team assembled one hour early for
prayer and last minute instructions from Joel and Connie.
After prayer Connie announced to the group that God was
opening new and wonderful doors for the ministry and she
explained, with much joy and excitement, that the ministry
would be moving to the Pentecostal Tabernacle and that I
would be taking over Joel's responsibilities.  The reaction
was much as I expected and amidst the many exclamations
of "praise God," I was congratulated and hugged.

  Connie's sermon that evening was, "living the victorious
life in Christ."  Connie is a very good public speaker and
she knows how to 'work' a crowd.  She can deliver the
gospel message with both fervor and tenderness.  She also
has a keen understanding of both Scripture and human
nature.  Her delivery that night was exceptional and by the
time she began calling out 'healings', the level of
expectation was higher than I'd ever seen it.  I took my
position at the base of the chancel on Connie's left side.  I
glanced at the long lines forming on either side of the
sanctuary and realized it would be a long evening.

  About thirty minutes into the ministry I turned to greet the
next person in line and I looked into the eyes of a very
nervous young man.  He was probably 18 or 19 years old
and I could tell immediately that this was his first service.
His name was Eric and he told me that he had recently
accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior.  I welcomed him
into the family of believers and asked him what he would
like Connie to pray for.   He was reluctant to say anything
and his anxiety was growing.  I took him aside and
encouraged him not to be afraid.  I remember saying
something like, "God knows what is in your heart and he
knows exactly what you need."

  After a few minutes Eric told me that he was gay.  The
friends that had led him to the Lord told him that being gay
is a sin and that he needed to repent and seek God's
forgiveness.

  "Is that why you're here Eric?" I asked.

  "Yes sir," he softly replied.  "I've asked God to forgive me
but I still feel the same inside, you know, the same desires.
I don't know what to do and I'm hoping the minister will
pray for me."

  "Of course she will pray for you Eric."  I could tell that
Eric was extremely nervous and I asked him if something
else was troubling him.

  "My family and some of my friends are here tonight and
they don't know that I'm gay.  I'm so afraid of how they will
react when they find out.  Will the minister pray for me
without saying anything out loud?"

  "Yes, she will.  Nobody wants to humiliate or embarrass
you.  When we go forward I will whisper your request to
Connie and she will lay her hands on you and pray silently.
You can expect the Spirit of God to touch you in a very
special way Eric."  I put my arm around his shoulders in a
gesture of friendship.

  As I spoke I could visibly see him start to relax.  We
talked softly for another few minutes.  I liked him instantly.
I felt his apprehension and realized that I shared his
feelings.  Never comfortable with my own sexuality I often
wondered if I too should ask for prayer and guidance.  I
knew that I was attracted to men but still could not bring
myself to consider the possibility that I might be gay.  After
all, I'd had a two-year relationship with a woman that
involved sex.  Not necessarily satisfying sex but I had
nothing to compare it to.

  I led Eric to Connie when she turned and looked in our
direction.  "Whom do we have here?" she said.

  "Connie, I'd like you to meet Eric.  He has only recently
joined the family of God and this is his first visit to our
ministry".

  "Welcome Eric," she said as she took his hands in hers.
"What would you have me pray about?"

  I leaned close to Connie's ear and whispered, "Eric is gay
and he would like you to pray for him.  His family and
friends are here tonight and they don't know that he is gay.
He has requested that you pray silently for him because he
is concerned about their reaction."

  Without warning Connie dropped Eric's hands and jumped
backward while yelling into the microphone, "In the name
of Jesus Christ I command the spirit of homosexuality to
release this man.  Unclean spirit you must leave and never
return to this child of God."

  It was one of those moments when time momentarily
stood still.  The congregation became silent as they
watched the spectacle unfold.  Connie dramatically thrust
her right hand forward, stopping only inches from Eric's
chest.  "I plead the blood of Jesus over this entire room,"
she roared while beginning to sway from side to side.
Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as I tried
to comprehend what was happening.

  There was a look of abject terror on Eric's face.  I will
never forget his eyes as he turned to look at me.  Fear,
sorrow, bewilderment, it was all there and I felt my own
heart break.  I wanted to take him in my arms and tell him
how sorry I was.  I wished I could switch places with him.
I wanted to protect him from this woman and the horrible
deed she had committed in Jesus' name.  I started to reach
out to Eric when he suddenly bolted down the center isle of
the sanctuary, through the narthex and out the side door.

  A very real epiphany occurred for me at that moment.
There were no angelic voices to be heard nor did the
heavens open to display the wonders of God.  Yet, probably
for the first time, the truth of the gospel was clear to me.
True humility and vile self-righteousness was displayed for
the entire congregation to witness and I wondered how
many had the eyes to see.  I knew beyond doubt that I had
no place in the Connie Latham ministry.

  I looked over at Connie and her face was contorted into a
shape that made her look haughty.  Her eyes were closed in
what I imagine was prayer and I doubted that she even
realized that the man she was praying for had left the
building, and possibly the faith.

  I followed Eric's steps down the center isle, stopped in the
narthex to retrieve my jacket, and walked out of the church.
Other than a handful of weddings and funerals, I have not
been back in a church since that night.

  I tried in vain to locate Eric.  I so wanted to tell him that
what happened was not of God.  Who knows what he has
endured since that fateful night when he asked the body of
believers for prayer? I pray that God in some way has
touched Eric's life with amazing grace.  I pray the he has
found peace with himself, his family and his sexuality.  I
pray he has one hunk of a boyfriend.




  "Steven, where did you go?"  I was brought back to the
present by Sarah's voice.

  "Sorry, I momentarily got lost in a memory," I answered
her.

  "Sarah, I don't know what is happening but I believe that
you are right.  We are meant to be friends and I don't want
us to part company wondering if I'll ever see you again.
You're right, there is unfinished business here."

  "Steven, that is what I'm trying to tell you."

  "Sarah, if I have any chance of making my flight I'm
going to have to leave now, but I want to see you when I
return from Washington."

  "I want to see you too," she replied as she began writing
her address and phone number on a napkin.  She had a Los
Angeles address.  Over an hour from where I lived.

  I asked her if she had auto insurance and she told me she
did.  As I mentioned earlier I wasn't overly concerned about
my Toyota but felt badly for Miguel.  I took out one of my
business cards and wrote Mark's phone number on the
back.

  "If you or the insurance company need to speak with me
before I return, you can call me at Mark's, he won't mind."

  We stood together and hugged each other.  It was a warm
embrace and it somehow reinforced my feeling that
something spiritual was happening.  Sarah stretched up on
her tiptoes and gave me a kiss on the cheek.  Flashing a
beautiful smile she simply said, "see you soon," and we
walked to our newly dented cars.





Chapter 3 - A Lesson Learned

  I arrived at the airport with time to spare.  The fog had
been dense enough to close all air traffic for over two
hours.  When my flight was finally called I was anxious to
be underway.  My morning seemed more like a dream yet I
felt a strange excitement as if something important was
unfolding.

  I boarded Alaskan Airlines flight 205 at approximately
11:30 A.M. and expected to arrive in San Francisco in
about one hour.  Fortunately I didn't need to change flights
and the hold over in the 'City By The Bay' would only be
35 minutes.  From there it was nonstop to Spokane.  I'm a
tall man, 6'4" and flying in coach is difficult.  I stowed my
overhead luggage, wrapped my legs into pretzel and
prepared for flight.  As the plane taxied down the runway I
closed my eyes and tried to make sense of the bizarre
morning and prepare myself for my visit with Mark and
Barbara.

		--------------------------------

  Mark and I met when we were in college.  I was 20 and he
was 19. We had so much in common that our friendship
developed quickly and we soon became roommates.

  I had just started dating Kathy Williams a pretty girl that I
met on a field trip to the Carizzo Plain, a rather desolate but
fascinating valley about 45 minutes east the city of San
Luis Obispo.  At one time land developers tried to
subdivide the area and touted it as the next great land
opportunity in California.  Some lots were sold but due to
the lack of available water the scheme rapidly feel apart.

  In the center of the valley is a large body of water called
Soda Lake.  The lake is home to many bird species
including the Lesser Sandhill Crane. At one time the
magnificent California Condor included this region in its
limited range.   It is still too early to tell but it appears that
the bird may have been saved from extinction by capturing
the last few wild birds and breeding them in captivity.  In
recent years, birds hatched in captivity were released.  They
have been observed from the Tehachapi Mountains to the
east and south across the Los Padres National Forest.
Ornithologists and environmentalists are hopeful that the
birds will return to the La Panza range, just west of the
Carizzo Plain.  The area is also home to the endangered
Burrowing San Joaquin Kit Fox.

  Along the east side of the plain the Temblor Range rises
dramatically from the valley floor.  The field trip was part
of a geology class I was taking and we were studying the
San Andreas Fault.  This section of the fault zone is
particularly interesting because evidence of movement is
obvious and often dramatic.  Creek beds suddenly change
direction and the surrounding Temblor, Elkhorn and
Panorama mountain ranges are creased and scarred from
immense pressure exerted over geologic time.  The San
Andreas Fault is the point where the Pacific and American
plates collide.

  After we had been dating for a few weeks Kathy wanted
me to meet her mother and brother.  She lived in
Northridge not far from the college campus.  Kathy's father
deserted the family when she was only two years old.
Neither child had any memories of their father.  As a result
the three were very close and totally supportive of each
other.

  Dinner was planned for a Sunday evening when her
brother Mark could be there.  As I mentioned, we became
fast friends.  Mark is intelligent and has a marvelous sense
of humor.  Because we have so many common interests we
talked all evening.  We are both amateur meteorologists
and enjoy all aspects of nature and science.

  At some point my relationship with Kathy became
serious.  That is, it became sexual.  Kathy was my one and
only woman.  I had dated a few girls in high school but
because of my timidity and apprehension the relationships
never evolved beyond kissing and simple petting.  Each of
the girls soon tired of getting nowhere with me and moved
on, usually to my great relief.  Kathy was different.  I really
cared for her and although sex with her didn't fulfill me, I
didn't want to lose her. We had so much in common and
were very comfortable with each other, except for sex, and
that was my hang-up, not hers.

  Our relationship lasted two years and I'm amazed she
stayed with me that long.  I was a terrible lover.  Partly due
to childhood religious teaching about sex outside of
marriage and partly because I was not being honest about
my sexuality, each encounter was absolute anguish for me.
I wasn't sure what to do and I usually didn't want to do it.
It's a miracle that we were able to have intercourse because
keeping an erection was not easy.  Don't get me wrong, I
enjoyed certain aspects of our lovemaking, especially if I
thought I was pleasing Kathy, but overall it was not a good
experience for me.  Oddly, I enjoyed her breasts.  I loved
feeling them and sucking on her nipples.  They would
always become hard and I could tell she enjoyed it very
much.  When it came to oral sex, well, I enjoyed receiving
it but couldn't return the favor.  Poor Kathy, I know she felt
badly even though I tried to assure her that it was totally
my problem and not hers.  Kathy is a beautiful woman,
inside and out, and she deserved better.

  She must have known that it wouldn't work.  Arriving at
my apartment one evening, she asked if we could take a
walk.  By then Mark and I were roommates. Our apartment
was only two blocks form the Cal State Campus so we
decided to walk across the manicured grounds.

  "Steven, I want to talk with you, about us," she said softly.
"What I'm going to tell you is breaking my heart.  I love
you so much and I always will.  In the two years we've
been together I've learned what it means to have a friend.
You are my friend, probably my only real friend.  But I also
understand that you are not, and will never be, my lover."
She paused and I knew she was quietly crying.

  "For a long time I thought there was something wrong
with me.  Maybe you didn't find me attractive or perhaps I
was doing something wrong.  But I know now that it isn't
me.  Steven, it's you.  You tried to assure me all along but I
still thought it was me.  I'm not angry Steven.  You've been
so good to me and I cherish you beyond words, but I don't
understand you.  Maybe you don't understand it yourself.
All I know is that we are both hurting badly.  If we are
going to have any hope of sustaining our friendship then we
have to break up.  I'm so sorry and I don't want to hurt you
Steven."

  Of course everything she said was true.  I understood that
our friendship was the real gem in the relationship and if I
were ever going to come to terms with my sexuality it
would have to be done honestly and alone.  What I was
doing was a charade and Kathy was paying an emotional
price for it.

  I walked Kathy back to her car and we parted tearfully,
but as friends, good friends.  She remains a dear friend to
this day.  Kathy married a year later and moved with her
husband to Chicago.  We talk regularly on the phone and
get together whenever she visits her mother.  I don't regret
my time with Kathy.  She taught me about honesty and was
another stepping stone in my path toward self-realization.

  Mark understood our breakup and was expecting it.  He
loved his sister deeply and I think he loved me too.  He
knew this was the best for both of us.

  My friendship with Mark continued to grow and I began
to realize just how much I loved him.  Not just as a friend,
although that certainly was true, but romantically as well.
He appealed to me on all levels.  We were intellectual
equals, we laughed at the same things, and the same things
made us cry.  Physically I think Mark is just about perfect.
He stands six feet tall and weighs 180 pounds. He is in
great shape but not muscle bound.  His hair is dark brown
and his face is rugged yet strikingly handsome.  His chest is
moderately covered with brown hair, as are his legs.  At
home I'd seen him naked on a couple of occasions.  His
cock is cut and about four inches when soft.  At that time
I'd still not seen him with an erection.  His balls are large
and his pubic hair is thick and dark.  His ass is covered with
fine brown hair and nicely shaped.  I wanted him badly yet
I said nothing.

  Although we had never talked about homosexuality I
knew that Mark liked women.  He dated frequently and
often told me about his lovemaking.  And, to further
complicate matters, I was still not being honest with
myself.  I refused to consider myself gay.  I had always
been taught that it was wrong.  A sin and morally
reprehensible.  I convinced myself that I was bisexual and
if I tried hard enough I would learn to enjoy sex with
women and forget about men.  Maybe not Mark, but men in
general.  So I continued to live a lie and now this young
attractive Bruja was calling me on it.

  Flying high above the clouds, I thought about everything
Sarah had said to me.  Why couldn't I just admit it?
Wouldn't my life be easier if I lived the truth?  Sarah had
stirred up memories and I continued to reminisce.


Chapter 4 - Red Rock Canyon


  After graduation, Mark and I quickly found employment.
I took a job working for a Pesticide Company in the small
town of Arvin, located about 100 miles north of the San
Fernando Valley.  I was involved researching the impact
various insect control treatments had on the
microenvironments in the San Joaquin Valley.  I loved the
job.  The company was progressive and environmentally
sound.

  Mark moved to Edwards Air force Base where he worked
as a civilian aeronautical engineer.  Edwards Air Force
Base is located about 35 miles southeast of where I lived in
the small mountain town of Tehachapi.  Because we lived
so close we still spent much of our time together.  We
hiked and camped throughout the Tehachapi and Paiute
Mountains and the Mojave Desert.  One of our favorite
places is Red Rock Canyon, an incredible geologic feature
in the high desert.  If anything, we became closer.

  In those days I grew a small amount of pot.  Mark loved
smoking "herb" and so did I.  We made an agreement that
we would only smoke when we were together so most of
our hiking trips were enhanced by the use of weed.  Those
were joyous times for both of us.

  The details of one particular weekend camping trip will be
forever etched in my mind.  Mark and I had been very busy
with our jobs and hadn't seen each other for about a month.
We were so excited when we realized that we both had the
coming weekend off.  We planned to camp at our favorite
Red Rock Canyon campground.  Red Rock Canyon State
Park is located about 40 minutes north of Edwards Air
Force Base on highway 14.  For Mark it was an easy drive,
due north on 14.  Coming from Tehachapi I would take
highway 58 east to the town of Mojave where 58 intersects
with 14.  The plan was to meet in Mojave at 8 A.M. at the
Denny's restaurant for breakfast.  We would then take both
cars to Red Rock Canyon.

  The always punctual Mark beat me to the coffee shop by a
few minutes and I found him at a table drinking coffee.  As
I approached the table he stood up and held me in a strong
hug.  "I've missed you so much Steven," he said.

  "I've missed you too Mark.  I'm so excited for this
weekend," I replied.

  Mark was in an incredibly good mood.  He talked
constantly, not about anything in particular, just talked.
Mark has the sexiest grin.  He would flash his best smile at
me every few minutes and I became totally lost in the
beauty of his face.  I remember very little of what we talked
about but that sexy grin will always remain in my memory.
Mark ordered something called, `Moons Over My Hammy',
and I ordered a `Grand Slam'.  We laughed at the names of
the dishes on the menu.

  Finishing our breakfast we drove to Stater Brother's to
pickup food for the weekend.  Mark loves beef so we
bought a couple of Porterhouse steaks, corn on the cob,
baking potatoes, apples, large slabs of beef jerky, milk and
cereal for breakfast, aluminum foil, spray butter, paper
plates, plastic utensils, ice and charcoal.  Our last stop was
the liquor aisle.   We bought our usual camping potables,
twelve bottles of Lowenbrau Special Reserve and a bottle
of Jack Daniel's Whiskey.

  As we turned off of the highway into the State Park the
stark beauty of the desert struck me.  Tall, eroding cliffs,
that display every shade of red and orange imaginable, rise
upward from the desert floor.  The cliffs provide nesting
sites to many local raptors including Prairie Falcons and
Golden Eagles.  Contrasting dramatically against the
cerulean blue sky, the cliffs, as always, held me in wonder.

  Driving the one-way dirt road to our campsite I noticed a
Roadrunner ambling slowly across the bottom of a small,
dry streambed.  Life abounds in the desert if you take the
time to look for it.  Numerous ancient mesquite bushes
grow here, as do groves of Joshua trees.  Walking through
dry ravines you will see an occasional Opuntia cactus
flourishing in the arid soil.  The endangered desert tortoise
may make a rare appearance.  Many species of snakes and
lizards can be seen but not usually during the heat of the
day.

  Summer temperatures can soar to 115 degrees or higher
while evenings generally cool off rapidly and can, on
occasion, be chilly.  If you are lucky you will be treated to
a spectacular summer thunderstorm.  They generally begin
building early in the afternoon and by evening will fill the
sky with exciting electrical displays.  Flash flooding is
common here so it is important that you stay clear of dry
streambeds during the summer monsoon season.

  We arrived at our favorite campsite and immediately set
up camp.  It didn't take long.  Mark had a small two-man
tent and I a Coleman stove and lantern.  I also brought a
collapsible table and two chairs.  Mark brought a large ice
chest.  Once set up, we decided to take a hike.

  We have a favorite spot that is a moderate distance from
the campground and accessible only by foot.  Wearing
small backpacks we headed in a southeasterly direction and
followed a trail that ascends a rather steep cliff.  The left
side of the trail is barren igneous rock, a testimony to the
volcanic activity that shaped this region eons ago.
Reaching the summit we stood silently enjoying the vast
360-degree panorama.

  "I never tire of this bud," Mark said to me.

  "We live in a remarkable part of the country.  All of this
and so much more right in our own backyard," I replied.

  "Steven, let's sit and talk for a minute,"

  "Sure, whatever you like."

  We sat down in the shadow provided by a large boulder.
"Did you bring any pot with you Steve?" Mark asked rather
sheepishly.

  "Don't I always," I answered.

  "I'm glad you did but I want to tell you something before
we light up."

  Mark's handsome face had turned serious and I felt a
momentary sense of concern.  It must have shown on my
face because Mark smiled and said, "no, nothing at all
wrong, but I want to tell you something I should have said
a long time ago.  I want to tell you now, before we smoke.
I don't want you thinking that it's the weed talking."

  I looked into Mark's eyes and could see they were full of
sincerity and possibly a tear.  "What is it Mark?"

  "Not seeing you this past month has been very hard for
me.  I miss the days when we lived together.  I miss coming
home to our apartment and finding you there, waiting for
me. Somehow you always made me feel good about
myself.  I felt complete and safe knowing you were there.
Steven, I've come to realize something about myself and I
want you to know what it is.

  He paused for a minute and then reached over and took
both of my hands and held them tight.  I could tell he was
nervous.  "Mark, it's ok, please tell me," I said very softly.

  "Steven, I love you.  I've loved you for a long time.  I
don't know what it means, I don't know what the
implications might be, I just know that I love you and I
would be a very unhappy person if you weren't in my life."

  The tear that I had seen in his eye found its way out.  I
leaned over and caught it with my finger as it silently rolled
down his cheek.  I didn't know what to say.  I had hoped
that Mark loved me.  I was certain that I loved him.  At that
moment sex didn't enter my mind.  I was content just to
hear him tell me those simple yet profound words.

  "Mark, I love you too.  I've wanted to tell you for so long
but was afraid what it might do to our friendship."

  "We have so much more than friendship Steve.  I don't
know what paths our lives will take but please promise me
that you will always love me."

  With those words he leaned over and kissed me tenderly
on the lips. He lingered a moment then looked into my eyes
and smiled.

  I completely melted.  I had died and gone to heaven.
"Mark, I will always love you.  Wherever life takes us, I
will be there for you," I said as I returned his smile.

  We sat, side by side, for a long time.  We held each other
and said very little.  Words weren't necessary.  Eventually
we got up and continued on to our special place.  We
descended the opposite side of the ridge into a very wide
streambed.  Walking south through deep dry sand we came
to large craggy rocks that took some caution to navigate.
Without warning we arrived at the very edge of a precipice
where, when water is flowing in the stream, transforms into
a spectacular waterfall.  We sat down in a small cave that
overlooks the valley far below.  This was our place.  This is
where we would smoke the 'herb'.

  Mark packed a small amount into a pipe that he had made
and I produced a flame from a lighter I carried in my
pocket.  Then we inhaled.  Almost at once we were taken to
a place where our senses became acute, and reality
changed.  The slightest brush of wind against my cheek
became significant.  I thought I could actually see the wind
as it moved across the arroyo beneath me.  A Red-tailed
hawk soaring above us moved with the grace and majesty
of an angel.  Even the sand, as I let it slip through my
fingers, moved with a deliberate purpose.  All was well
with the universe that glorious afternoon as we sat, side by
side, in a small cave overlooking the vast California desert.

  We probably sat there for an hour, not talking, just being.
Smoking pot always produces a Zen like awareness for me.
Something I wished I could do without smoking but
without much success.  At one point I looked over at Mark
and I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh.  That was
all it took.  For no apparent reason we became hysterical
with laughter.  Everything was funny and I have no idea
why.  Mark began seeing shapes in the rocks and he would
point them out to me.  He pointed at a large piling of huge
rocks that had evidently slid down the mountainside long
ago.

  "Steven, those rocks look like an enormous elephant.  Do
you see it?"

  I did, but before I could say anything Marks says, "look at
the size of his cock!"  Sure enough, positioned in just the
right spot there was large rock formation that resembled a
huge penis.  We laughed until our sides ached.

  Eventually the effects of the weed began to wear off and
we were ready to head back to camp. As we walked Mark
took my hand and he held it until we were back.  We
always chose a campsite that is reasonably close to the
showers and toilets.  Not too close mind you but close
enough to be convenient should we need them during the
night.  Tired but feeling wonderful we decided to shower
and then fix dinner.  I started the charcoal while Mark
showered. He wrapped the corn and potatoes in foil while I
took my turn cleaning up.  By the time I was finished the
coals were hot and Mark buried the corn and potatoes in
their fiery bowels.  I opened a bottle of beer for each of us
and prepared the steaks for grilling.  Mark walked to his car
and returned with his boom box and CD's.   Some of the
sites have electrical hookups and this was one of them.  We
both love all kinds of music but Mark is passionate about
Aerosmith.  So with Steven Tyler wailing in the
background we sat side by side, drinking beer, totally
content with our world.

  A spectacular sunset blazed in the western sky as we ate
our dinner.  The large portions of food we ate helped
temper the buzz we felt from all of the beer we had been
drinking.  "Are you up for some Jack?" Mark asked as he
reached for the bottle of whiskey.

  "You bet," I said.  Mark took a long swig from the bottle
and passed it over to me.  I followed suit.

  By 9 P.M.  we were both tired and pleasantly buzzed.
"I'm ready to turn in," Mark said.  "How about you buddy?"

  I agreed and after brushing our teeth we slipped into the
tent.  It was a warm evening so we slept in our underwear
on top of the sleeping bags.  After I extinguished our
lantern we both became comfortable.  Softly Mark said to
me, "Steven, I really meant what I said earlier.  I love you
with all of my heart."  He then leaned over and gave me
another tender kiss on my lips and said, "good night my
love."

  "I love you too Mark, so very much.  Goodnight."

  We were very tired and we both fell asleep quickly.
Sometime in the early hours of the morning I awakened and
was cold.  The night, as is so common in the desert, became
chilly.  I stood up and quietly unzipped my sleeping bag
and covered both of us with it.  Mark, at that moment, put
his arm around me and pulled me to himself.  He quickly
fell back asleep while I nuzzled my face against his hairy,
beautiful chest.  We slept peacefully the rest of the night.

  I was wide-awake by 6 A.M.  I had been so content
sleeping against Mark's warm body that I was apprehensive
to change positions.  As a result I was pretty stiff.  Not
wanting to wake Mark, I quietly got up and walked to the
showers.  The whole time I showered I worried that Mark
might feel differently today.  After all, we slept in each
other's arms and straight men don't normally do that.  My
fears were all in vain however.  As I returned to camp Mark
was up, sitting at the entry to the tent, and watching me
return.   "How long have you been up honey?" he asked.

  "About 20 minutes is all, I couldn't sleep any longer."

  "Come over here Steven," he said.

  I walked over to him and he pulled me down to himself
and kissed me passionately.  "Don't ever leave me without a
good morning kiss," he said with that killer grin on his face.

  "Mark, I want you to know that yesterday was the best
day of my life.  I still can't believe what happened."

  "Why not sweetheart?  You must have had some idea of
how I felt about you."

  "Let's just say that I hoped and prayed that you felt the
same way about me as I have about you. And by the way, I
love it when you call me sweetheart."

  "Steven, if you had a cunt I'd fuck you."

  I didn't know what to make of that remark.  I could see
mirth written all over that gorgeous face but still I was
confused.  I wondered if sex would ever be part of our love.
I hoped so, but for the time being I was very, very happy
with the situation, just as it was.

  Sunday was spent exploring the area.  Mark was in a silly
mood and it seemed like he just wanted to be close to me
and laugh a lot.  That was fine with me.   We broke camp
around 3:00 P.M. and said goodbye.  Mark needed to be
back at the Base by 5:00.  We kissed, hugged and got into
our cars.  Mark rolled down his window and called to me,
"Good bye sweetheart, I love you." and drove off.

  We continued our camping trips every opportunity we
had.  If we couldn't get away for the weekend we would
meet for dinner or go to a movie.  The closest movie theater
was in Lancaster about 30 minutes south of Edwards,
which meant I usually got home late.  It didn't matter to me.
Just being with Mark was all I needed.  He would hold my
hand whenever he could without making a public scene.
Neither of us said anything about taking our relationship
any further.  The thought of having sex with Mark was
thrilling but I didn't want to do or say anything that might
frighten him.  He probably felt much the same.  I could live
without sex as long as Mark continued to love me.  Life
was good for us, absolutely perfect, but change was on the
horizon.



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