Date: Sun, 9 Jul 2000 18:19:08 -0700
From: David Cross <dcross1@home.com>
Subject: shane-and-robin 3

The usual disclaimers apply - ie. no reading this if you're not of age to
read it, and no peeking at this if you can't stand gay people (which would
bring to mind the question of what the hell you're doing reading this
anyway).

A warning to the faint of heart: This chapter isn't all sugar-and-spice. No
one gets hit, though.

All questions etc can be directed to dcross1@home.com

----

Shane mused about the incongruity of events on the way home; something
didn't fit, but he couldn't put his finger on it... he decided to turn the
problem over in his head as he drove home from school.

Shane parked the car in its usual spot, pulled his backpack from its spot
on the front passenger seat, and stepped out of the car. He checked the
mailbox; just the BC Tel bill. He tossed the envelope onto the kitchen
table, and went straight to his bedroom. After tossing the backpack onto
the bed, he sat down at his table and mused again about the events after
school; suddenly he realized what didn't fit: Robin's reactions weren't
entirely typical for that of a supposedly 100% straight teenager. He'd
seemed oddly distracted after the battery boost, and he wasn't expecting
Shane to yell out that question about jumper cables. Almost as though... as
though Robin had been thinking about something important enough (to him, at
any rate) that it momentarily overshadowed the immediate problem of getting
his car started. Was Robin gay? Shane trembled at the thought. He'd always
assumed the only gay person in the known universe (meaning: Campbell River)
was himself. Dejected, he realized there would be no known way to test his
theory, and turned to his homework...

"Shane! Dinner!" His mother's voice broke in upon his consciousness; he'd
been so wrapped up in the first draft of his English essay on the character
dynamics of _Lord of the Flies_ that he didn't register at first what time
it was. 5:30! Time flew when you were concentrating, all right.

Shane sighed, put his pen down, and reflected that he particularly didn't
feel like eating with his parents that night. Nevertheless, family
obligations being what they were...

Shane trudged into the kitchen, and saw that his father, Don Wilson, was
already at his usual place, at the head of the table. His mother, Nancy,
sat on Don's right and he sat on Don's left. After all three had put food
on their plates, Don nodded slightly to his wife and son, and said grace.

After having said "Amen", a suitable interval passed upon which the three
commenced to eat dinner in semi-silence. Shane noted his father seemed
slightly irritated; odds were that Don had probably read something in the
newspaper recently about the NDP government's intention to alter the
provincial Human Rights Act to include homosexuality as a protected
category, meaning you couldn't discriminate against gays or lesbians who
were trying to get jobs or apartments. Sure enough, about halfway through
the supper, his father began to pontificate.

"Nancy, I read in the paper today that those Godless socialists are going
to allow those abominable people, those... gays and lesbians, to have equal
rights with the rest of society! This is an outrage against God's will, and
a victory for Satan's forces of darkness!" And he went on and on about that
subject for some minutes as Shane abstractly noted the vein throbbing near
his father's forehead. The words rattled in Shane's ear and out the other.

Nancy replied, "Honey, I'm sure that the government will stop when they
realize what they are doing. AFter all, many other people are also telling
the government what a bad idea they think it is." Shane idly realized that
his mother always acted the part of the soothing, "reasonable" housewife,
calming down the man of the house as a woman was supposed to dutifully
do. Of course, if put to the test, his mother would probably gladly shriek
out "faggot!" right along with his father's bass yell of that same coarse,
disgusting word. It couldn't be helped, though; his parents were simply too
imprisoned in their own inability to consider any point of view except that
laid down by a book named the Bible.

Almost as though his own thoughts had been broadcasted... "Shane, you're
not one of those fags, are you?" Shane, startled out of his reverie by this
unusual question put directly to him, stammered, "Uh, no, Dad. Why would I
be?"

"You better not be, because if you are, then you are not my son, because
Satan will have your soul!" Shane had to stifle a gasp, and quickly noted
that his mother did NOT look at all disapproving of his father's bald
statement, but in fact seemed to reflect and reinforce it tenfold.

Shane spoke the words, but there was no feeling behind them. "May God
protect us from all that is evil. May I be excused?" A curt nod from his
father, who was obviously steaming over a decision the rest of civilized
society seemed to take in stride, was the only answer.

He'd grabbed his plate and put it in the dishwasher along with the knife
and fork. Shane thought to himself, "I'd have lost my appetite if Dad had
asked me that rude question in the middle of dinner!"

By now, it was 6:30, and Shane didn't feel like going back to his
homework. He closed his bedroom door, lay down on his bed, and asked
himself why his father's bluntly prejudiced opinions and questions seemed
to bother him more today than usual; didn't the usual pattern work so you
became "immune" to these things over time? It had to be the fact that he'd
touched Robin's hand (albeit by accident) earlier that day. It was
awakening something within him he didn't realize existed; the concrete
feeling of sexual and emotional attraction for another man, as opposed to
the concept only.

He raged inside at the unfairness of a world that wouldn't allow him to
openly state that he wanted to get to know other gay guys, and begin the
long process of understanding what love between two men was. Instead he was
trapped inside the household of a father whose love for his son was
conditional on his fitting a certain mold, and a mother who would forever
remain her husband's unseen shadow.

Faggot. Queer. Cocksucker. Those words and others battered at Shane's mind
as he tried not to let the loathsome words define who and what he was. He'd
thought he'd done so well for himself - allowing his father's words to
slide off him as they had so many times before, and affirming within
himself the unshakable conviction that _he_ was right and his father was
wrong, and that he would get to prove it the day he graduated from high
school and went on to university. Yet one question, put directly to him,
crudely asking him if he was a homosexual, almost totally undid the careful
groundwork Shane had laid for preserving his own self-esteem. He felt a
tear begin to run down his cheek as self-pity began to take over.

Maybe he _was_ just a good-for-nothing faggot, or else why would his father
harp on it so? Maybe his father could pick up on those clues and stoked the
fires of his self-righteous anger with that evidence he had. Shane had a
momentary vision of himself whoring on the street to whoever would pay him
money, and being told "Fucking cocksucker. Take this money and get outta
here," and dying before the age of 30, ravaged by the years spent on the
streets, denied the ability to turn the tables on all those who would see
him on the street and think "He knows his place, just like the rest of
those filthy queers."

By this time the tears were flowing freely, but ironically, amidst the dark
thoughts and ocean of self-pity, Shane realized that it was not truly his
mind speaking to itself, but rather his unpreparedness for an attack at his
blind spot that spoke. He'd always assumed that his father would never
question his sexuality, because it wouldn't be within his father's compass
to conceive of such a thing. Yet he'd been proven wrong that night, and
that had shaken him more than he'd realized.

Shane wiped his face, sat up on the bed, and resolved there and then that
he would never allow such a blind spot to exist again. Something burned
within him that had never been there before; years later, he would look
back and realize what it was - it was a deep anger; anger that he had been
nearly caught without an adequate defence, and that he wouldn't have had
the presence of mind to stand his ground had the scene turned ugly. If he
had seen his face in the mirror, it would have appeared to be set in stone,
showing his anger to the world forever had that been his death mask. That
night, he examined and re-examined everything that remotely touched his
sexuality and his plans for escape, starting with the most fundamental
assumptions he'd made about the way people close to him would behave, and
ending up on how he would stay under his father's radar...

10:00 PM

Having spent an hour before bedtime putting the finishing touches on his
homework as well as his thought processes, Shane turned off his bedroom
light, and quickly changed into pajamas and went to bed.

September 10, 1992

7:00 AM

Shane woke up, again, to his alarm clock's insistent ring. He decided to
make short work of this morning and just get to school as soon as possible,
even though it would mean killing time doing nothing while waiting for
classes to begin; better that than have to stay more than necessary in that
house. He knew he was still somewhat upset and that this was a reaction to
his father's question. Eventually, maybe he could forgive his
father. "Forgive him, for he knows not what he does." Ironic that a line
from the Bible should run through his mind at that moment.

7:45 AM

After having done his morning ritual in record time and getting to school
early, Shane decided, for lack of anything better to do, that he would see
what the library had to offer. He browsed the fiction rack along the far
wall of the library; it stretched from the southwest corner along to the
fire doors. His eyes, having almost glazed over at the rows upon rows of
fiction, locked onto a book he hadn't seen before: _Bad_Boy_, by Diana
Wieler. He pulled it out and looked at the back; hmm! The blurb on the back
made a cryptic reference to "teenage sexuality". If that wasn't a code word
for homosexuality, what was? He decided he'd be safe enough reading that
book in public, since you couldn't tell from the cover that it was about a
gay guy unless you knew what was in it.

Shane quickly signed the book out, and got to his locker to put away his
backpack and get out the books he'd need for his first class of the day,
which was... check the timetable... ah! Chemistry would be first, followed
by Social Studies, English, French and Metalworking. Darn. Only one class
with that dreamboat, Robin.

The would-be atom-smashers to his right broke in on his thoughts. The topic
of discussion today seemed to be analyzing why creationism didn't
work. This seemed to grab Shane's attention more than would be normal - he
was just so sick of his dad's narrow-minded interpretation of religion that
hearing a contrary viewpoint to a centerpiece of his theology felt almost
like he was getting away with something, like other guys in his school
would if they had snuck a beer without mom or dad knowing about it.

David C. cursed and said, "Damnit, don't these guys know the Second Law of
Thermodynamics isn't violated? The Earth is an open system!"

David H. replied, "Yeah, and also what about the fact that those dumbasses
don't even take into account nonrandom changes in molecular patterns over
time?"

"What you really mean is the simple obvious fact that you do not get
infinite chemical combinations of any element with any other element. Any
grade 9 science student knows that!"

"You wouldn't know it listening to these guys."

Shane piped up, a little confused, "Um, what _is_ the Second Law of
Thermodynamics?"

The two Davids looked at him as though he'd said the sky was red. Shane
instantly felt a little abashed - he didn't have anywhere near the esoteric
knowledge these guys seemed to have; his energies were focussed on things
far too practical, such as evading his father when he could, and trying not
to let his father's narrow-mindedness infect him. Sure, he read a lot, but
it was mostly fiction, as a way to fill his mind with stories to escape the
drabness of living at home. It had simply never occurred to him that
science could also be a fascinating area of interest for its own sake.

The two Davids looked at each other, and seemed to come to mutual
agreement. David C. said, "The Second Law of Thermodynamics can be given in
a variety of forms. One way of saying it is simply, 'entropy rises to a
maximum in a closed system'. This is because a closed system can't have
matter or energy go in or out of it. The Earth isn't closed, though; it's
open."

David H. nodded in agreement and added, "Where creationists go wrong is
they agree that entropy rises to a maximum, but leave out the part about a
closed system. So they argue that evolution couldn't happen because it
implies a decrease in entropy."

Shane said, "Oh, I see." He then locked his locker and quickly strode to
Chemistry class, with Mr. Mitchell. Put simply, that guy was the BEST; he
also taught Physics, which Shane had been in yesterday. He could teach the
courses in a way that was entertaining, yet informative. He also radiated
an aura that indicated from the get-go that he would tolerate no
nonsense. But in return for giving no nonsense, he rewarded the fact that
if given the right tools, students would be honestly curious and
inquisitive; he didn't give a load of BS when answering questions - if he
knew the answer, he'd explain clearly, but if not, he'd say so and say he
would find out the answer.

As this was the first day of Chemistry class, Mr. Mitchell was mostly just
going over what the lesson plan would be, and the ground rules. Since they
were similar to what would be true for physics (except that he wouldn't be
as strict about graphing, since chemistry didn't depend on graphs as much,
at least initially), Shane's mind began to wander. Should he begin "coming
out"? He'd read of the expression in the newspaper when reading a little
article on gay youth. He didn't know who the hell he'd come out TO,
though. This entire town seemed to be chock-full of people who would love
to get in a few punches to his head or his body if he said he was gay, not
to mention life at school could probably be measured in weeks, if not
days. It was six years before the death of Matthew Shepard, yet somehow he
presciently realized that he could, literally, get killed for being what he
was if someone took a beating too far. Maybe those two Davids would be good
to start with - he had no romantic interest in either of them and they
seemed so wrapped up in the Promethean heights of theoretical science they
wouldn't care about his sexuality. Yet he was still scared of the thought
of even saying three words: "I am gay."

Shane's other classes flashed by quickly, except for English; Robin sat
directly beside him on his right. All through the class, Shane kept
sneaking looks over at Robin's beautiful face. His heart broke at the sad
reality that Robin, like the rest of the world, seemed to be straight as an
arrow. He was wearing another great outfit - a medium-blue shirt and dark
blue pants, with a shiny black leather belt. "How does he manage to look so
great in those CLOTHES?" Shane wondered. Once or twice, it seemed that
Robin was looking at Shane as well, but the looks were so furtive it could
easily just have been his overactive imagination.

Was there a way to test the assumption that Robin was gay? The riskiest way
would be to directly ask him, which didn't seem all that appetizing; what
if Shane was wrong? An anonymous note might work, but it would have to
leave enough hints and yet not give the game away entirely... Shane rapidly
began getting wrapped up in possible avenues of indirectly letting Robin
know he had a secret admirer.

All too soon, it was the end of the day, and Shane was at his locker again,
grabbing his books and wondering if he should take about a half hour to use
the weight machines near the gym.

As it happened, the two gurus were once again running off, this time about
quantum mechanics. How the HELL did they manage to carry on so volubly day
in and day out?

Shane suddenly felt a strange compulsion; it was like he was on a freight
train, accelerating to ever-higher velocities. He _had_ to tell someone
today what he was! Maybe his father had let loose a bigger can of worms
than he would ever know; he hadn't just caused his son to re-evaluate
himself, he'd also caused his son to decide to take a stand and not be
intimidated into hiding himself.

Shane looked over at the two Davids, and tapped David C. on the shoulder,
knowing the other would be interrupted as well.

David C. looked at him and said, "Yes?"

Shane suddenly found his body trembling and he had to take a deep breath to
settle his nerves. "Um... I'm... I'm gay."

"Oh. Ya hear that, Dave? He's gay, he says."

David H. said, "Oh. cool."

Shane just boggled at the two of them and said, "You're OK with this? I
mean, I just blurted this out to you here, after classes are done for the
day. You don't care?"

The two Davids just looked at Shane and shrugged simultaneously. Without
missing a beat, they resumed their heated discussion about Heisenberg's
Uncertainty Principle.

"You can violate conservation of energy!"

"Are you on crack?!"

"Can too! Read this, Delta-E times..."

Shane just tuned out at that point and grinned like a fool, realizing that
the two soon-to-be theoretical physicists really didn't give a damn. They
probably would have hated his guts if he'd popped off with some inane
scientific theory instead. He looked up once more and realized he needed to
know the answer to one more question.

"So, you see, you can transform the energy-time uncertainty into the
momentum-position... Uh, yeah?!"

Shane had tapped David C. on the shoulder again and hesitantly said, "Look,
can I count on you guys to let me talk to one or both of you if I ever just
need to get something off my chest?"

Both of them looked at him like he'd stated the absolutely obvious. He felt
foolish for having to ask, and just waved goodbye.

They were still arguing as he left: "Planck's constant over two pi means
that there is a fundamental limit..."

Shane, still shaking in the aftermath of saying he was gay, quickly walked
to the weight room. Relieved at the lack of anyone else in the room, he
stripped off his pants to reveal gym shorts underneath, and began warming
up in preparation for the 30-minute workout he'd planned...

----

That ends part 3. Let me know if you like the scientific vignettes. ;) I'm
a chemical engineer by education, with a lot of self-education in the more
abstract theories of physics, if you're wondering where I get all the
fancyass language from. If part 4 isn't already up, it'll be up shortly and
you can see how Robin's evening and day go =)

For those who are wondering, the book _Bad_Boy_ by Diana Wieler does exist;
it's real. The short version is that it's set in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan
and is from the perspective of a straight teenager who finds out his
oddball friend is gay.