Date: Wed, 1 Apr 2009 18:30:43 -0500
From: Cieran Hughes <cieranhughes20383@gmail.com>
Subject: Cieran and Marcus, Part 6

	I awoke from my nap with Marcus to find that he had rolled over
onto his back. Our legs were intertwined, and my arm was still resting on
his chest, which was now in full view. Knowing that I am a very heavy
sleeper, this change in our position didn't phase me in the slightest. His
eyes were barely open, though he was staring at me carefully.

	"You look so peaceful when you sleep," he said softly.

	I gently craned my neck forward and rubbed my nose lovingly against
his. Our lips met in a delicate kiss as he turned his head slightly to meet
me. I sighed contently and gently slid down the bed to rest my head on his
chest; I began tracing delicate patterns of nothingness across his smooth
skin with my fingertips. We spoke softly to each other.

	"Cieran?"

	"Yes?"

	"Are you out? You know, have you told anybody you're gay?"

	"Other than you, no."

	We found ourselves lying in silence for several more minutes, or at
least it felt like several minutes. Then Marcus spoke again.

	"How long have you known you were gay?"

	"Well, since high school, I guess."

	"And you never told your parents?" he asked with just a hint of
surprise.

	"Hell no! I never told my parents. My mom might not care, but my
dad would freak out."

	My parents had been divorced since before I could remember. My
father is a very conservative man, and a firm (albeit misguided)
Christian. My mother, on the other hand, is a relatively liberal
person. I'd guess that their different ideologies played some part in their
divorce, but they certainly played a role in shaping me. I knew I was gay
by the time I reached my sophomore year of high school. I had suspected it
for years before, but it wasn't until then that I admitted it to
myself. Inwardly, I bucked religion and accepted the fact that I was gay,
but I never came out.

	As many of you readers no-doubt noticed in the early chapters of
this story, I am rather exceptionally talented when it comes to
compartmentalizing my feelings. Growing up decidedly gay whilst remaining
in the closet was relatively easy for me to do. And I only got better at it
as I grew up; during my freshman year of college, I didn't think twice
about setting off to one of Boston's gay clubs alone, without telling
anyone.

	All that said, you could imagine my complete and utter discomfort
about the prospect of revealing my secret to my parents. I could imagine
the scene in my head:

	"Dad, I'm gay and secretly have been for years. Surprise!"

	Yeah, right!

	Nevertheless, Marcus persisted with his questions, completely
unaware of my internal struggle.

	"Why would your dad freak out?"

	"Well, he doesn't exactly condone the whole
guys-who-have-sex-with-guys thing. Actually, that is a gross
understatement. If he knew that I was gay, I don't think he'd hesitate to
tell me I'm going straight to hell."

	"Oh, I see. I'm sorry."

	He was starting to understand. As close as I was with Marcus, this
was unfamiliar territory for us. We'd certainly talked about my parents
before, but never in the context of being gay. Marcus had just discovered I
was gay a day ago, after all.

	"You haven't told your parents, have you?"

	"No," he replied.

	"I didn't think so. I'd have been really surprised if you had. I
mean, you just realized it yourself a few weeks ago."

	"True."

	I continued to trace my fingertips across his smooth skin. He
seemed to be thinking carefully.

	"I actually don't think my parents would care that I'm gay," he
said.

	"Really?"

	"Yeah. I mean, they always taught me growing up that people were
people; that it didn't matter if they were gay or straight, black or white,
man or woman. My dad would always say, 'Everybody deserves to live their
life the way they want.' And besides, I have an aunt who's a lesbian and
she's always been accepted in the family."

	He genuinely believed what he was saying; I could tell that by his
tone. This was one time when Marcus being naïve wasn't attractive. I found
myself more than a little annoyed.

	"Yeah," he continued, "I think they'd be okay with it."

	"Well, that's great," I said, cynically, "but not everybody is
lucky enough to have parents like that."

	He gently turned my head so that I was looking directly into his
eyes. He stared at me with such focus and intensity. I knew what was
coming; I wish I could've taken back those words. When he spoke, though, it
was with tenderness in his voice.

	"Hey," he said, "I'm sorry. I can tell talking about this is hard
for you. Please don't be angry with me."

	Marcus' soft, tender words seemed to sweep aside my defenses. He
was right; I had no place being angry with him. After all, none of my bad
experiences with my parents were his fault. Suddenly, I felt very small.

	"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten angry. It's great that you
have such a good relationship with your parents. I wish I could have that
with mine."

	Silence, once again, crept upon the room. It was uncomfortable to
talk about my parents, but being with Marc, lying there with his arms
around me, made me feel safe.

	After a while, Marcus spoke again.

	"Do you want to tell your parents?"

	I thought about it.

	"Yes," I said, "but when I'm ready."

	He paused. I could tell he was choosing his next words carefully.

	"Please, don't get upset, but do you think you'll ever be ready?"

	"No," I said, "probably not."

	It was true. I could admit that to myself, at least.

	"What if you just did it? You know, got it out of the way?"

	"What?!"

	"Well, it's your decision to make, not mine. I want you to do what
you want. Just know that, whenever or whatever you decide, I'll be there
for you."

	I rested my head on his chest once again. I didn't say anything. I
couldn't say anything. For the second time since I had met him, Marcus
Calvani had managed to sweep aside all of my internal resolve. I would
never be ready to tell anyone, the time would never be right to come
out. But what if I did it? What if -- could I even let myself think it
-- what if Marcus was right? What if I just said it and got it over with?
What would happen if I came out? Would I lose my parents over this? My
friends? Tears began to form in my eyes as the frightening possibilities
raced through my mind.

	But then, this could be my chance to start being honest with the
people I knew. This could be my chance to stop compartmentalizing; I
wouldn't have to constantly calculate everything I did or said around other
people. Skilled though I was at juggling conflicting feelings and
expectations, doing so exacted a heavy price. Maybe I could stop all that
and be true to myself inside and outside. I could just be.

	"Marcus."

	"Yes?"

	"Please hand me my phone."